The Power of Angels

I am wrapping up three weekends of marathons in 22 days. If you know me well you know that I've had similar schedules before without much trouble. My lovely supporter and biggest hero Gary has taken care of me in some marvelous adventures. We have gone out west twice for a total of six marathons, camped, backpacked, climbed mountains and hiked with bears. This weekend in New Jersey and last weekend in New Mexico with work in between held more challenges than I expected. You would think that sleeping on the ground, bathing in mountain lakes, and eating fast food and Mountain House freeze dried rations would wear me out, but my best finish times have been on those weeks on the road. I felt wonderful for ten days after Lower Potomac River Marathon and kept up with my training schedule. Then on the Tuesday night before New Mexico my throat began to hurt. By the next morning I was coughing. For years I have taken Echinacea when I feel the first symptom of a cold. I still get sick but it lasts three days instead of three weeks.
With my schedule of two races in eight days I knew that it would be a great testimony to the benefit of my new nutritional system. I've been taking reliv shakes under the supervision of Marco Riolo, my reliv coach. I feel strong and more annoyed by the tickling in my throat, than anxious. The friend who I caught the cold from texted and said that her cough had turned into a bronchial and ear infection. Gary and I said goodbye as I headed to New Mexico for my 49th Marathon in my 42nd state.
I felt badly for the person that had to sit next to me on the flight to El Paso, but she was a lovely young woman from Cincinnati who followed her dreams and got a degree in music and is a professional piano accompanist. She was going to be working in El Paso for three weeks on a production of "La Boheme."
There were many service men and women on the flight and I imagined that they were going to be marching in the Death March on Sunday.
They were such disciplined dedicated people. Our country is blessed by their service. I deplaned in El Paso and headed for the hotel kiosk and dialed the hotel. They had no record of my reservation. I thought I might have not remembered the name of the hotel and tried another property with Wyndham. I was not in their system either. I tried the first hotel again and Juan found my reservation... I reserved the room on the wrong weekend! I was scheduled to arrive the following week! Juan was wonderful and gave me the room for the same price. I checked in at 10:30pm and went to bed. As I lay there over stimulated by my near debacle, I sat up in the dark. I realized that I probably did the same thing for tomorrows reservation in Las Cruces, La Quinta. I got out of bed, logged on to the internet and checked out my reservation. Ugh!! I did make the same mistake.
Let it be known that La Quinta's on-line reservation system is wonderful! It let me change from next weekend for two nights, to tomorrow for one!
Disaster averted! I'm meeting John Points at the airport tomorrow and I am sure plan B would have been to stay with him, but that would have been uncomfortable and awkward. Of the many runners that I have met on my journey, my Oklahoma friends are precious to me. They form a community for me like a church home. I have not been successful finding a place in Manistique to worship. Gary does not attend church and I feel exposed and vulnerable going to church in our little town by myself.
Integrity and principles provide the fortitude to endure and the marchers on Sunday had an exercise in both. The directive from our commander was to be at the staging area by O-five hundred. Anyone attempting to access the arena by then would be denied entry. We parked the car at 4:55 and needed to find a porta-pottie ASAP. The line was moving forward slowly because one door was closed with no one inside. We tried to Jimmie it open but it wouldn't cooperate. Maniac Dave persisted and found us later to let us know that he got in. It was about 45 degrees as we waited for the toilets, but we went to the coral for civilian marchers too early. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped to 38 degrees. It was spectacular to see the American flag blowing with the granite hills ikn the indigo dusky light. Calories were flowing out of our shivering limbs for two hours before the official start. The ceremony was amazing and the 6700 marchers huddled together began our shared challenges together with the memory of four years that the"Battling Bastards of Bataan" endured at the hands of the Japanese.
I came prepared to face the desert heat and I feel that I was flirting with hypothermia. I put my arms in my tee shirt and my buff on my head and we slowly began to run. On our right at the start was some disruption in the movement.I heard someone say that there were some of the survivors there wishing us well. The soldiers in their camo were shaking hands with them. I had bright pink colors on and the ninety four year old survivor saw me and reached for me. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and thanked him for his sacrifice.
I shuffled along with the camo clad service men and women. They were carrying fifty pounds and were marching shoulder to shoulder. This made running difficult. I don't wear a Garmin during races, but I would be curious to find out how far I really ran. Between zig zagging around them and trying to find firm ground to avoid soft sand and gravel oh, and my g.i. track was acting up so I took a few detours in the desert to find a bush large enough to squat behind. My bright pink shirt gave my intentions away. Most of the marchers were looking down at the rocks and sand, but I still felt exposed.
The first eight miles were a big rectangle of sand and gravel then we came to a highway. I kept up a pretty good pace to this point, but it felt good to be onto the asphalt. I began to feel out of breath. I was hoping that the dry desert air would help with the drainage from my cold. I slogged along, John and I caught up with Angie another marathon maniac. We walked for a while with her. I couldn't believe how exhausted I was feeling. Then we looked back at where we had just been an we had climbed up to an amazing view of the missile base in the valley framed by granite hills. It made me feel better to know that my fatigue was justified by a climb. We got to the twelve mile marker in three hours. We headed back into the desert and the rolling hills were a welcome change. We ran for a while with a Coast Guard service man, and some paratroopers, some German troops and tons of National Guardsmen. At mile fourteen there was an oasis in the desert. We were told to bring money for a burger and soda. John got a burger but with my tummy issues I thought a hot dog sounded better. I got a can of Gatorade and a bag of Sunchips. The electrolyte drink that they were serving on the course was horrible and the sugar in the Gatorade gave me a burst of energy. The next six miles were beautiful rolling hills. We kept hearing people talking about the two miles of sand. We hit it at mile twenty one. It was very hard for me. The dry sand that you slip back on as you plod forward. I walked the two miles and was exhausted by the time I got through it. John was looking strong and I encouraged him to go on ahead. He refused and stayed with me to the end. About a mile from the end he noticed that if we ran the last mile in twelve minutes we would be under seven hours. I don't think I managed a fifteen minute mile, but my official time was 6:59:28. Yeah!! Amazing experience. There was a survivor at the finish line. I kissed him on the cheek and thanked him. I want to march again. Hopefully I will be healthy and I will bring a blanket to the opening ceremony. I still see camo when I close my eyes.