And now for my next disaster…

Four years ago I watched the women’s 2008 Olympic Marathon Trials race on television and, noting that a few of them were over the age of 40, thought maybe. Maybe. About six months later, when I ran a 3:19, I again thought maybe. Maybe. I embarked on the pursuit of a 2:46 marathon time, believing there was some outside chance I could run that fast one day, despite all evidence to the contrary. I went through two coaches, about 9,000 miles, lots of shoes, and bouts of overtraining and injury. I finally gave up in May.

Over the years this pursuit turned into a chronicling of expectations that have gradually lowered over time. Scratch one race, target another one in six months. Hope I come back from injury. Okay, so I wouldn’t run a qualifying time at all. But maybe I could get the first masters award in the 5K race in Houston that weekend. At least I could go interview some professional elites. But I got turned down for a media pass. Okay, so maybe I’ll just interview some of the amateur elite runners I know who will be there. Or at least meet them for dinner. Drinks? Anything? Okay, if not, I’ll just go watch the Trials then.

In the meantime, my partner in running, travel and life was beset by his own injuries and setbacks. A rock placed in his path by some mischievous running valkyrie on a 20 miler resulted in a sprained ankle mid-training cycle, then a compensatory injury in his quad. This was on top of years of injuries. So rather than running the stellar comeback marathon he’d planned, his sights were on just running a halfway decent pace and finishing in one piece.

We got to Houston on Thursday the 12th. Had dinner. Slept. Got up. Had breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Went out to buy groceries, $92 worth of food and drink for a long racing weekend. We even bought extra beer to host people with, just in case. Entering our hotel room, I saw the red message light blinking on the room phone. I figured it was hotel management pushing room service or something, but it was a terse message from my sister to call her as soon as possible. I put down the phone and said to Jonathan, “Something terrible has happened. I am about to get some bad news. You need to prepare yourself.”

And I did indeed get bad news, on Friday the 13th. My father had been killed in a car accident near his home on Long Island while we were out buying $92 worth of groceries.

I won’t go into all of that here.

We left immediately to come back east and spend the long weekend closer to home, with family and family friends. On Tuesday afternoon we got back to our house in Yonkers. That evening, in a daze, I watched the Marathon Trials coverage, dutifully recorded for us by Tivo. I looked for my Houston Hopefuls, the runners whom I’d interviewed (or just meant to interview),  the handful of women who had both carried and achieved the dream. I didn’t see them, but that didn’t surprise me because they wouldn’t be in the front of the pack. Then I looked at Jaymee Marty’s blog post about the Trials. Jaymee (whom I had so hoped to meet up with in Houston) finished last, and she ran most of the way with Susan Loken, who had also been hobbled by injuries. Both started the race with Ruth Perkins, who was running with a sacral stress fracture, the same injury I had in 2010. Perkins would drop out early.

Marty, Loken and Perkins

These two women, Loken and Marty, bookended my experience as a Trials wannabe. Susan was the first masters runner whom I followed, as the face of the now-defunct More Marathon, the late-starter masters runner, someone who took up jogging in her thirties to get in shape, who went on to run in the 2004 Trials (at the age of 40) and 2008 Trials and win multiple masters championship titles. Jaymee was the second masters runner I followed and my first Houston Hopefuls interview — the woman who inspired the series, really. I have followed Jaymee’s running career for at least three years and was elated when she qualified for the trials in Chicago in 2010, the third-oldest first time qualifier in history (sorry, Jaymee; that’s not a backhanded compliment, just a fact). Not only did both of these women make the Trials, but they are also both phenomenal runners when they are running well. But now, here they both had been, struggling just to finish.

And, you know, I’m really proud of them both for running and finishing. But at the same time the whole thing — marathoning, the Trials, setting goals — it just seems like such a giant cosmic joke. You can make all the plans you want, but in the end life is going to happen. And just when you thought you’d lowered your expectations as much as you possibly could — “I’ll just race the 5K and watch the Trials…” — you end up having to lower them even more.

Why do we strive? Why do we set goals? Fate laughs at them sometimes, reminds us of how temporary we all are, and renders our grand plans totally trivial. But what else are we to do?

6 Responses

  1. And just when you thought you’d lowered your expectations as much as you possibly could — “I’ll just race the 5K and watch the Trials…” — you end up having to lower them even more.

    And this is why I never expect anything anymore, particularly running wise. It means never being disappointed. Of course, it means a lot of other things too, occasionally good, but often not. But I suspect you know that…

    I’m sorry about your father. I saw the news come up on FB and the timing didn’t escape me, but I’m never good at coming up with the right thing to say in these situations. As evidenced by this comment…

  2. I’ve lowered my expectations to be smaller and more immediate. Not that bigger things can’t happen, but taking it in smaller bites is the only logical way for me to think any more. After the newbie stuff wears off, improvement is no longer linear, so best to go for one goal, then the next, then the next. As long as you enjoy the journey, it doesn’t matter where you end up.

    Again, so sorry about your father. Life sucks sometimes in big, scary ways. Take care.

  3. What a great and heart-wrenching post. I mean that in all the gentlest ways, because you are one of those wonderful people OUT THERE in the world that one day I’ll have the chance to meet and tell you how much the internets do not suck because they let us feel connected like this.

  4. That’s the phone call we dread. The CBS tribute you posted on FB was moving — he had a great career. Didn’t realise he was in Vietnam.

    We’ve got to keep striving and setting goals. There’s no other option. As a famous marathoner once said: “you’ve got to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.”

  5. Of the many disappointments for me leading up to and including the Trials race, not getting to meet you was a pretty big one for me. My heart sunk when I saw your tweet about your Dad. I knew what you were going to be feeling, and my heart broke for you.

    I’m honored to be a book end to your Trials experience. I assure you that, despite all of the challenges I faced, I would not change any of it. How boring would my life be if all I did was have perfect marathon training cycles followed by spectacularly perfect races? Life’s richness comes from experience, both good and bad.

    As Ewen says, We have no choice but to keep striving and setting goals. Just as the last bad experience starts to fade in our memories
    we, without even thinking about it, start to dream again and sally fucking forth.

  6. Raw, heartrending, real post. Thank you for spilling it out there. Life can be rougher when you want something from it. What are we to do? Run like we live, I guess. Run down some devils and demons.

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