The Rock had no chance

After..... 3 months of going out to White Rock Lake on Saturday mornings at 8am.... to run for half an hour while my friends PUITA and THE PERUVIAN trained for 3hours plus in training for the WHITE ROCK LAKE MARATHON.... the moment finally arrived on Sunday December 11 to Run the Rock! What exilhiration! What inspiration! I can't say enough now, really on how these two individuals are my heroes for going through what they went through on this day.

As we arrive into the American Airlines Center we call the Peruvian, on the way? Check. We call Puita's brother, Jorge, "On the Way?" Check. He's doing the Half marathon. PUITA has been just the living replica of a Mexican Jumping bean for the past 24 hours... She is a nervous wreck. We pull into a parking spot... suddenly we hear a massive cry from PUITA, " THERE"S FATHER DOUG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". Our FAVORITE priest from St. Anne's Life Teen Mass, Fr. Doug pulls in front of us to park. He is just cute as a button with his ear piece in as he checks in with whomever he is 10-4ing with on the other end of the wire. PUITA, totally out of character, runs out of the car to tell Fr. Doug we go to St. Anne's and she is running the marathon. "I thought you guys were laughing at me because I had a NY license plate, he tells us". He meanders off wondering why he is being stalked by the Life Teen Paparazzi. However, this is the sign for PUITA that all will be o.k. The Mexican Jumping Bean is gone. She is calm. It is a miracle.

Somehow we manage to find Jorge and the Peruvian in the Din of thousands of people. Jorge meanders off to the half marathon start and the last thing we see is the Peruvian dragging PUITA up close to the 4 Hour pace people.

The Crummster and I spring into action... We have five places on the route to get to and we are off to get to the first cheering station at mile 8. As the folks filter by looking damn strong with these sub 4 hour people, I am just amazed at the human body that could look so fresh and strong for people who have been running for 8 miles. I look like crap after 1 mile! Finally, The Peruvian and PUITA come into the viewfinder of my camera. They look Great! They are laughing and having a good time and they smile and wave at us. How imppressive!

Off to mile 12 at the top of the lake. Here there is a great crowd and we get each other and all the runners all keyed up to where we sound like the cheering section in a small stadium. We have made a narrow corridor for the passers by and someone starts the tradition of high fiving all the runners as they pass. We have a line of twenty hands to high five and the runners seem to particularly enjoy "running this gauntlet..." There is a small moment of crisis when an elderly woman looking very perturbed that her Cadillac cannot pass through the race, actually honks her horn for the runners to move. The Police officer who is chitchatting and not noticing this FLAGRANT transgression of the traffic stoppage seems to not be able to handle this situation, so I run across the course and stop the car with my body waving my arms and yelling at her, " You cannot pass through here.!!!" She shoots me an evil look but she turns and flees and my fans cheer on my bravery. Soon we spy Marybeth's black leggings and black ski hat traipsing our way and she yells at us, "Pray for the Peruvian, he hurt his knee!" The Peruvian is right behind her and just smiles and waves at us. Hmmmmm we are concerned and throw up a prayer for him on our way back to the car.

Lucky for us... there is a Starbucks on the way from mile 12 to mile 16 on the other side of the race and we head straight for it... Ahhhhhhhhh now THIS is what we needed to strengthen our cheering. At mile 16 we are at the part of the lake, Winfrey Point, where we park and head out for training runs for the past 3 months so we feel right at home. (I have drunk many a starbucks coffee here while PUITA and PERUVIAN are out on a long run). Partly from the influx of coffee and partly from our experience of enthusiasm at the previous cheer post, Crummster and I are very hyper at this point and we are making complete spectacles of ourselves as the sole cheerers at this remote outpost. We look around wondering what is wrong with all the other spectators who are just standing there doing nothing. We are dancing and hopping along and yelling solidly for 20 minutes from the time the runner carrying the 3hour 40 minute pace setting ballons to the 3hour 50 ballons then the 4 hour balloons go by. "You own this lake!" "Way to stay sub 4!" "Nice and easy!" "Looking Good!". We know all these chants, and we are entertaining all the runners and all the spectators. Finally our black legginged PUITA comes roaring around the corner. The Peruvian had to drop out, he's hurt. She scoots off. Crummster and I blink and look at each other. We do not know what this means. Is he in need of being picked up? Is he walking? Is he at the medical tent? PUITA is too far gone for us to ask these questions. We know that a medical tent AND a shuttle pickup is right around here so we know the Peruvian will be o.k. and rush off to mile 21 to cheer for PUITA. We hear that this is after the big hill. I know that PUITA will stay focused on the hill, but that mile 22-26 will be the toughest for her becuase she'll start checking out at that time with nothing big to focus on but trying to wait to finish.

By mile 22, the runners between 3hours 40 minutes and 4 hours recognize us now and they are actually waving to us as they pass by. Oh yes, its those crazy chicks.... We remember them... At this point it is now hard to watch these guys. They look like crap. There is pain written all over their faces. Some of the guys have blood all over their shirts where there nipples have rubbed raw on their shirts. We are screaming our lungs out to cheer them on we are just so proud of them even though these people are strangers. It is just so motivating and amazing to watch people who are past the point of exhaustion keep going on and actually whisper "Thank You" to us who are doing nothing but yelling. PUITA comes prancing around the corner looking not even particularly tired. I am amazed. She looks so strong and like a machine. This girl is TOUGH! She hasn't changed her pace for 22 miles! Go GIRL!


Mile 26! We stop on the route a quarter mile from the end. At this point, the folks are done! They are at mile 26.2! but they don't know how close they are to the end, so we scream like hyenas at them to let them know the finish is two turns ahead! They're done! Finally PUITA comes trucking into view. She looks dead. She finally has been caught up with by exhaustion. We run to her and take up one side each and we make such a racket that all the runners behind her and us rally and we all charge for the finish together! She did it and I am SO impressed and amazed. WHAT an accomplishment!

For the next hour and a half we don't know what to do about the PERUVIAN. We don't know where he is? We check the medical tent, no. We check the free beer stands, no. We check voice mail, no. We call his cell phone, no. We are not sure if he drove home already or if we have his key in the car. We head back a quarter mile down the route to our car and who comes into view walking with an ice bag wrapped around his knee? Dear God, he walked the rest of the course from Mile 13. Wow. What an amazing man to be down and out and injured and disappointed and still have the Gutzpah to finish it out and walk the rest of the way injured. I run to him and walk with him the rest of the way, while Crummster gets the car to drive to the finish. I know he's been looking forward to that free beer at the end for 3 months, so we head towards it. The Crummster and PUITAs family head to Cafe Brazil while Peruvian and I get his knee reiced. He is my hero. Not only did he train be ready and run the race. But after injury he kept such a positive attitute and says there will be other marathons and he will begin training again after two months. Not to mention the dedication it took to walk to the finish while in pain and while disapointed. I am just so impressed. With both my friends, what courage and inspiration I draw from them both.