This little story started out in an email reply to my friend Bryan, before I decided I had written enough to make a blog post of it. I don’t know if I’m going to start posting here again or not, but <shrug>
I have given money to a homeless person once since moving to the city, and it was earlier this year. I see a lot of bums on the way home from the train station, but this guy was new. He was sitting on the ground at a busy intersection, with a sign that said, “Travelling. Need supplies.” They never just ask for money anymore, because people ignore them–they need to find an angle. This guy, in particular, completely ignored me. His attentions were completely occupied by a dog that sat on his lap. It was some kind of brindle thing, maybe a pit. It seemed like regardless of his dire straits, he was happy just to have his friend there with him. I thought of all of the entitled suburbanites who left their foreclosed McMansions, their family companions still chained in the back yard, and of our little brindle girl Ruby. I walked on, but the images stayed with me, so I turned left instead of right at the next intersection, hit an ATM, and withdrew $40. I walked back with a weird mixture of elation and transgression. “I don’t know where you and your friend are going,” I told him, as I handed him the folded twenties–our eyes carefully averted, as they always must be–”but I hope this helps get you there together.”
So was I a savior or a sucker? I never saw him again. Maybe I picked well, and he didn’t turn that $40 into Mad Dog or black tar. I like to think so.
On Saturday, Kristy and I participated, with many of her coworkers at LAFMC, in the eighth annual AIDS Run & Walk 5K. This event, in addition to being a successful fundraiser for LAF’s AIDS Project, which helps those who suffer from both the disease and poverty, was also my first-ever race. Although I was not able to raise as much money as Kristy did with her brilliant yarn raffle, I scraped together more than I expected to thanks to my coworkers.
The morning of the race was beautiful–sunny and in the mid 70s. We all met up at Grant Park a little after 9:00 to get ready, meeting with Kristy’s team members. Many of them, including Kristy, had elected to walk the course, and Kristy even brought the girls (Sybil even in a velour track suit) to join in the walk. All too soon it was time for the runners, who got a 5 minute head start, to take the starting line. Before I knew what had happened, I was on my mark, then set, and then listening for the word “go” as something other than a spectator.
Thanks to the clever use of a timing RFID chip on my shoe, I didn’t have to worry about jockeying for position–my crossing of the start and then finish lines was silently recorded. High tech! Having ditched my wallet and keys with Kristy, and using her borrowed iPod shuffle, I was travelling very light around the course. We jogged first south along Lake Shore Drive, then under and around to the Museum Campus, then along the lake shore itself next to the yachts at anchor in the harbor. As I breezed along to the first mile, I found myself regretting that the race was already 1/3 over and wishing it were longer.
At mile two, I was still feeling pretty good, and when Boris’ Pink came on, I got overconfident (and maybe carried away by the fast music) and really started to haul ass. By around 2 1/4mi, I was brought back to reality by a nasty cramp just below my right lung. I stopped fretting about the shortness of the race and began wishing that it would be over soon.
I had to stop once to catch my breath (and maybe cough up a little bile, shh) after the cramp reduced my lung capacity, but other than that I ran the whole race and finished the race running, which was my only goal for the race and which I am so proud of. As I made the final turn and could see the finish line ahead, my vision narrowed to the inflatable blue plastic novelty arch and, within it, the vertical plane that meant I could stop running. I gasped a last gulp of air and ran flat out with everything that was left in my legs. So intent was I on passing the line and falling down on the first patch of grass I could find that I didn’t even see my time as I passed. I lay on my back, looking up at the sky through the yellowing leaves, trying to absorb what had just happened.
After a while, I got back up, drank some water, and retraced the course to meet Kristy and the dogs. They were taking a break in the shade at the mileandahalf marker when I found them. We started walking again after a little while, but Ruby suffered some sort of injury to her paw and we decided to cut the walk short for her sake. Later on, after returning the weiners home, we met up with some of Kristy’s coworkers for a much-needed pizza lunch.
And what ever became of my time? Well fortunately, although I wasn’t clever enough to look up at the clock, it was recorded for me by my chip. A quick email exchange with the organizers led me here, where I learned that I had missed a registration step that would have associated my number with my name. No worries, I can still search for my number, pictured above…
I finished the 3.2mi race in an astonishing (to me) time of 23:28. Not only did that place me within 6 minutes of the race winner (a position I was realistic enough to never aspire to), but it also ranked me 97th out of 1,143 finishers, and 18th of 90 in the fairly competitive 25-29M group. I am so proud!
I’m not sure yet when my next race will be, but I’m sure it will be soon. The cramp was pretty agonizing, but I suppose added a great deal of character to the experience. I’ll never forget the run. And I’m so grateful to Kristy for setting me up with her team, because otherwise this probably would have been on my to-do list until after it was too late to register. Thank you Kissy!
Before going, I’ll leave you with a playlist to run your first 5k to:
Happy running
The wifi connection here at the hotel leaves a lot to be desired, so updates are not going t be forthcoming, but Kristy and I are still alive and well in the Dominican Republic.
Today’s post title is attributable to me. We went snorkelling today, and not only did I avoid losing my snorkel in terror, I actually did pretty well at it. I’ll give more details later because the trip deserves its own post, but during the past week I taught myself not just to snorkel properly, but even how to “free dive” by sealing the snorkel with my tongue while underwater. On our third of three snorkels today, a school of bright blue and purple fish about the size of my hand swam below us, and I couldn’t resist giving it a shot. Tongue in the snorkel, bend in half, kick, and I had joined the school! Kristy hung above watching, and when I surfaced (after some spluttering) the best I could do to express my astonishment was to exclaim, as above, “I was a fish!”
So exciting. Snorkelling today was one of the most exciting things I’ve done in quite a while.
…in which I pick up the title theme from my last post to wish Kristy and I a happy first anniversary. As Kristy says at her place, it’s been an interesting year, but we’re both still here and happier than ever. Here’s to many many more. *mwah*!
We have fun things planned, as she says, and we had a great weekend, thanks in part to Kristy surprising me with Cubs tickets for us. Thank you! Tonight we get to find out how year-old unfrozen cake tastes
Aside from the game, some tasty sukiyaki tonight, and a new purse I bought Kristy that should arrive this week, we’ve booked a vacation in the beautiful Dominican Republic at the beginning of next month, and are finally replacing a 9-year old TV in our living room. Huzzah!
Anyways, I have a lot of practice remembering our anniversary, because we’ve been celebrating it together for seven years (for varying reasons). Those seven years have been some of the best of my life. I love you Kristy!
for a new reason to be ashamed of the state I grew up in:
Over 20% of white voters in Ohio say that race was an important factor in voting and they went 3-to-1 for Clinton. That’s the margin of difference.
Fucking pathetic.
The good news is that it looks like Hillary will make up less than 10 of Obama’s 157 delegate lead on the night, no thanks to the Buckeye state.
Update: It actually looks like things are going to tighten up a bit, if CNN can be believed (they probably can’t, but are gesturing in the direction of the truth). Apparently Obama is going to see his lead cut to about 90.
Hillary’s comeback does not much affect me, because there is nothing that could ever make me vote for another Clinton, including her nomination as the Democratic candidate. Lots of political parties aren’t running a former Walmart board member as their nominee.
or Why I Just Voted for John Edwards.
Yes, I know that John Edwards officially withdrew his candidacy last week. And yes, I did vote a straight slate of Obama’s electors after my symbolic Edwards vote. I like him a lot better than the bought-and-paid for HRC, but there are lots of things about both of the remaining candidates that don’t appeal to me. I voted for Edwards because…
Hillary seems to me like more of the same, and I don’t think that Obama’s conciliatory kumbaya is going to make things happen. Edwards understands that we need to stand up to conservatives, not suck up to them.
And the only candidate talking about class in America right now is John Edwards.
Not only does Hillary support the slowest withdrawal of any candidate, she has yet to admit that her vote on AUMF was a mistake.
When Obama had a chance to vote “no” on a bill banning dilation and extraction (the so-called “partial-birth abortion,” he merely voted present. A woman’s sovereignty over her own body is not a chit to be spent in political maneuvering.
Both of the front-runners voted to confirm Condoleeza Rice for Secretary of State, 3 years after her tenure as NSA was marred by the September 11 attacks. This is neither explicable nor excusable.
What will your vote tell people about what matters to you?