Disney Repris

Here's another nod to Disney's business acumen and ability to sniff out an opportunity: Rather than running all their race distances concurrently, they run them on different days, starting with the shortest distance and building in a crescendo to the half marathon (Disneyland) or marathon (Disney World). It makes race logistics easier on each day, draws the single race people to the parks on different days, and gives the medal whores an opportunity to really clean up and take home n + 1 medals (n = the number of finish lines you actually crossed). Or even n + 2 medals if they fall for the marketing trap in multiple states (as I have).

Note to self: Use your iPhone at night...

I am not motivated by the obscene number of medals that I accrue after one of these weekends, but I love the additional challenge of putting the races back-to-back. It spreads out the race excitement, and you can ride the high from one race right into the next. It also means I get to run through the parks more than once, which (I don't know if you picked this up from my earlier post) I enjoy very much indeed.

I had blown most of my Disney magic on the first race, however, and the pink cloud of perfection had started to dissipate by the second day. I had loud neighbors in the hotel room next door. When I first checked in on Friday they were playing some game involving children screeching, loud adult laughter, and a whistle. I bought ear plugs on Friday afternoon, and felt like a jerk when they were quiet as church mice after 9:00 that night. But on Saturday night I used the shit out of those ear plugs. The loud chatting and laughter coming from the next room was still going strong when I left my room at 4:15am. I find taking care of excited children exhausting on a full night's sleep. Whoever my neighbors were deserved some sort of medal for fatigue resistance of their own... I imagine it would have Peter Pan on it, for refusing to grow up. Peter Pan, but with the donkey ears and tail that Pinocchio got for drinking on the island of naughty boys. Because what kind of adult parties until 5am with their kids sleeping on a pull-out in the next room? But since I had the ear plugs, I found their stamina astonishing rather than annoying.

...cuz GoPro takes really crummy pictures in the dark

This morning it was almost 10º hotter than the day before, with the actual temperature at 81º, the "feels like" temperature up at 84. On top of that, the humidity was 64%. If you're from Florida or east Texas or something, that humidity may not sound like much. Sometimes I feel humidity out here in California, check the Weather app and find it's 10 or 15%. That is what passes for oppressive humidity out here. We also get the fog, which I guess is pretty high humidity, but that never happens when the temperature is above about 65º or so, so it's much more bearable. To me, humidity in the 60's felt like trying to work out in a steam room. I not only had a sheen of sweat from the mile walk to the start, I was actually dripping as I crammed in with the tens of thousands of other runners. Walking through Downtown Disney, I saw a handful of medics and shift supervisors huddled around a cast member lying on a bench. It wasn't even 5 in the morning and already people were passing out from the heat. With that, I admitted to myself that there would be no racing today and to get ready for a half marathon that would take way more than 2 hours. I have run a 1:41 half marathon in my life, so even though my performance has been on a precipitous decline over the past 3 years, a half marathon finish between 2:15 and 2:30 was going to require a LOT of humility.

For reasons never to be revealed (security? safety? weather?) the start was delayed by more than 5 minutes. After they played the national anthem and thanked our troops, the MCs inexplicably walked offstage for a couple of minutes, and the jumbotron just showed a sort of desktop background. The silence went on and on. The woman next to me said, "If I don't get back in time for Magic Hour, then I'm in big trouble with the family."

"What's Magic Hour?" I asked.

"If you're staying in the Disneyland Hotel, then they let you into the park an hour before everyone else can get in. I've got to run faster than 2 hours to make it." Since this woman was in my corral, I knew that she was probably around a 1:50 half marathon finisher on a good day. I hoped she was from Florida or somewhere where this heat and humidity wouldn't be a biocatastrophy. Without running a step, I knew that 2 hours would have been a pipe dream for me.

Without a word of explanation, the MC's reappeared at 7 minutes past the hour, and started setting off the corrals. I deliberately started slow, and managed to temper my enthusiasm to keep my pace close to a 10-minute mile. It kind of frightened me that this pace didn't feel uncomfortably slow. 

As we ran through the parks, I stopped to take pictures with my GoPro even though my videos from the day before had been junk in the dark. The photo stops were as much a reason to force myself to slow down as to save the memories for posterity. Somewhere between the second and third mile while running through the Magic Kingdom I found myself running behind a pair of women with well stocked fanny packs and singlets that said Race Monitor (or something like that). They came up to a guy who was walking and asked if he was doing okay. That seemed a bit excessive: they had been urging everyone to take extra walking breaks all weekend, and here was this guy doing just that and these roving medics pounced on him. Maybe this would be necessary in a few miles, but after only about 25 minutes it seemed a bit much.

"What, are you guys the tired police?" I joked.

"Something like that," said one of the Tired Police officers. "We'll drag you to the finish by your ponytail if you want..." 

"Sure!" I said, flipping my hair. It didn't seem that aggressive at the time, but now that I look back on it that was kind of a bitchy thing to say. Fuck the tired po-lice.

I know that they're unionized and only have to be out for like 20 min at a time, but I sure felt bad for all the characters in the head-to-toe costumes. If runners were melting in clothing that simulated nakedness, and employees in shorts and button-up short sleeved shirts were passing out before sunrise, Sully (Mosters, Inc), Sad (Inside Out) and Russell (Up) must have been dying in their costumes as sweaty runners packed in close. Not for the first time, I thought that being a Disney cast member with a hangover must be the closest one can come to hell on this earth. But from what I saw (I didn't stop to stand in line for a picture with any of them), the characters in head-to-toe costumes never broke character and expressed nothing but joy and excitement in their effusive gestures. Well... except Sad. Let's take a moment to appreciate the inclusiveness of Disney that a kid in a wheelchair, a woman in a hijab, a Japanese teenager, a midwestern spinster and a gay couple will all get the same enthusiastic and loving reaction from Goofy when they line up for pictures. If only the whole world were like that...

After even fewer miles than it had taken to get through the parks the day before, we were spit out onto the streets of Anaheim. We ran right past my hotel, and it must have still felt stifling then because I can remember the thought crossing my mind that I wished I could run in and take a cold shower. We had only run 4 or 5 miles at this point, and even though I hadn't even bothered with a shirt, everything was soaked -- including my shirt (which was tucked into the waistband of my shorts). Every minute or two, I would reach back and squeeze the sweat out of it to try to keep my shorts, socks and shoes dry from the overflow. It was futile. By mile 5 my shoes were already soaked and my shorts had been long pasted to my legs and were making the slow crawl up into my crotch. 

Aaaah, sunrise over the car dealerships of Anaheim!

As the sun started to rise, it brought with it a bit of a breeze and although the temperature held steady, the heat felt a little less oppressive. It felt like I was sitting on a beach in a warm day in Hawaii rather than just sitting inside someone's mouth. In real life our surroundings were far less inspiring than a Hawaiian beach: we were running through mile after mile of lumber yards, construction supply warehouses and furniture showrooms. Every once in awhile there would be a gas station, fast food joint, or office building to break up the monotony. 

The course this year was definitely different from last year's (I remember a mile or two along a bike path in one of those canal spillway things that they had drag races in in Grease II), and despite far fewer spectators the miles seemed to be passing more quickly. Maybe there's something about a lack of changing scenery that actually makes you lose all sense of time and go into a hypnotic state. If there are 10 interesting things to look at in a mile, maybe you imprint more memories and the mile feels more epic? Or maybe I had just boiled my brain and lost all orientation in space and time. I don't know... All I know is that last year there were thousands of classic cars spread over more than 3 miles. This year there were fewer than 100. Last year we ran under an underpass in the last miles, this year we didn't. There were the mariachi and hula dancers I remembered from the year before, but there would be no drum corps to carry me through.

By the time we ran through Angels Stadium around mile 10 I had completely given up any hope of finishing this thing with dignity. I was trying to run about 6 minutes on and 1 minute off, but it was no use. After a couple of minutes my head would get woozy, my heart rate would soar, my joints would turn to water, and my lungs would just quit. I had dutifully stopped at every water stop along the way and drunk at least a few ounces of water. By mile 5, I was drinking one cup of electrolyte drink and a water chaser at every aid station. I never drink sports drink, and I'm pretty sure that this one was meant to be windshield wiper fluid flavor because that's the color blue it was. It was disgusting, but since I almost never take on calories or drinks during a half marathon, I probably couldn't blame a bonk or possibly even greater than usual levels of dehydration for my miserable state. I just suck now.

I would like to blame the heat, but it's how most of my runs go lately. It occurred to me that I hadn't enjoyed running in a very long time, and it was probably time to take a break... even though I was committed to 2 big runs in January and April... I resolved to take a week off and then not sign up for any more running events for 2018. 

After running baselines in Angels stadium, we headed back over the freeway toward the Disney compound again. Suddenly, a woman in front of me tripped on one of the turtles that mark the lane lines in the road and hit the pavement hard. She managed to hit everything on the way down: knees, elbows, hands and head were all bleeding. She picked herself up and bravely kept running. I tried to stay with her to make sure that she was okay, but could not keep her pace over the freeway overpass and had to let her go. This is how pathetic I was: I was trying to keep up with a post-menopausal woman with a concussion, and I was still losing. Every time I tried to dig into myself for a little toughness, all I found in there was a swoon. Luckily, most everyone else (other than concussion lady) was doing as badly as I was. I was grateful to pass one guy retching at the side of the road, at least I was in better shape than him.

With about a mile to go I was in the midst of my 30th or 40th walking break when a guy in full Beast costume passed me. He was wearing 3/4 length pants, a full long sleeved jacket complete with shoulder pads (although ripped in vertical pleats for ventilation), and one of those furry hoods with ear flaps that hang down into a scarf. As he plodded past I said out loud, "Well fuck me!" Although I would catch up to him again, I never did pass him. 

Coming through the final half mile through the parking lot and into the park, I started to feel droplets fall on me. At first I thought that it was just spray from a sprinkler, but it was actually raining a little bit. You simply do not get summer sprinkles in LA. It didn't do much to cool down the temperature, but at least it meant that the humidity was finally beginning to break and the weather system beginning to pass. Fat lot of good it would do me...

I stumbled into the finish with no real sense of shame or accomplishment. This is just how I run now. I had passed through the panic phase of my body failing me. I'd tried rest, permanently cutting down my volume, cleaning up my diet, and drinking massive amounts of water, but nothing could bring back my former fitness. It had been fun for awhile to just be out there and participating in stuff, but now the unpleasantness of overcoming my body was starting to distract from the pleasure of being in the race. I walked away from Disneyland convinced that I need a drastic change in my training... and not knowing where to find it. 

In case you have trouble visualizing written descriptions like me, here are some stolen pictures from the weekend:

From the 10K, I look absolutely possessed in this picture. Like this photo was taken at the exact instant I was bayonetted from behind. Also, where is the other half of my right leg? 

Also taken during the 10k, I wish I could see the look in my eyes behind the watermark. I might look even more possessed than the picture above! Like I'll huff, and I'll puff, and then I'll eat your babies raw!

'Nuff said

Other than looking like I just got caught stealing a pie from the back door of the bakery, this is possibly the BEST picture taken on 10K day...

...and here I look like I took the first bite of the pie only to find that it was... PECAN PIE! Bleh! Life can be so cruel! 

This picture is the story of my life. Lumbering away behind a fresh-looking runner with perfect skin, I'm in a half-blink, tongue hanging out, fat jiggling on both my stomach and thunder thighs, and knees tracking in a direction that is most certainly not forward. We all have a picture of ourselves that is like the "profile picture" of our self esteem. This is mine. 

I am apparently just one of those people who looks better when photographed in the dark with a watermark over my face. 

 Finally! After 20 years of running I have a couple of pictures that look like how I feel in my head when I'm running well. If you look behind me, you can see why. There is a woman pushing a little girl in a wheelchair. These moments always make my heart soar. Apparently it shows before...

...I go back to running like a water buffalo with low self esteem. #Moo.