Even though it’s been almost a year since Eddie Arguelle’s passing, our cycling group and cycling community is still trying to cope with the loss of a cycling buddy. A loss that was unnecessary and for which we may never fully reach that last stage of grief…acceptance. Today was the Eddie Arguelles Remembrance Ride 19 that was organized by his wife, Monette, and Crossfit friends as a fundraiser for Easter Seals. Many cyclists from all over the valley came out to ride and honor his memory. I usually don’t like to ride during the first two or three months of the year due to the cool weather, but I had to make a very special exception. It was my first ride of the year, but this time without my friend Eddie.
(Left to Right) Arlene, Irma (me), and Eric. First ride of the year for us was all about catching up to the group. Fun Ride. – Eric Jimenez
Mission moment: “It’s not about me and it’s not about Dezma losing her fight against cancer. We are all still here, fighting for her and every other person fighting. So long as we continue to fight, we aren’t losing! Dezma hasn’t lost the fight.”
German, my run guru and cheerleader of my crazy dreams, advises the new team members on shoes, form, gear, practice, nutrition, hydration and consistency.
Sarah pacing Angel because sometimes he needs that extra little push at the end
I met Rolando about two years ago and finally got him onto our TEAM!!! I’m so happy and proud of him!!!
Sarah and Gio soaking up the sun
The first day of practice, a group practice with both the Marathon team and the Triathlon team, was so incredibly beautiful!!! The skies were blue, the air was crisp, our smiles were big and our hearts were warmed because Sarah was right there with us!!!
I talked about perception earlier and I’ve taken it deep into my heart and hoping to better show you what I see. Learning how to use the new gopro and have a ways to go… and no time to do it in!!! I’ll do the best that I can. I had to change the original song and quickly use one that Youtube chose FOR me and it ended up chopping it at the end instead of the fade out that made Jeanice’s flirty little hop at the end kinda cut off…
Training, watching what I eat, fundraising and learning new camera and video editing tricks is really tough.
Shouldn’t complain though… it really was a stunning day with great people!!!
I met Sarah shortly after I ran my first marathon in the summer of 2012. She is like a lot of other little girls and being the mother of two boys, and always wanted a little princess of my own, I gravitated towards her naturally.
Whoa… wait a minute. It must be more than that. Way more than that. Because everyone always gravitates towards her naturally. You can’t help but love this girl the moment you get that first giggle from her!!! Sarah loves to play and run and jump and race and challenge you on the monkey bars. She gives big bear hugs and laughs from deep within her belly. Sarah is a special needs child, but you would never know it. She’s special because she needs help fighting cancer.
At this time, if you’re anything like me… you’d skip all this jargon and skim right over to the pictures I posted of her and think to yourself: Are you kidding me? This little girl has cancer? But she’s so happy and looks so healthy!!! No way!!!
Si guey.
And here’s what really gets me… she and her mother, Anita, are at almost every single one of my practices and events ever since that first meeting in the park. If you’ve read my blog before or followed any of my social media accounts and have seen pictures of me running along the 2nd Street trail, swimming at a pond, lake or video at the Bay on South Padre Island or cycling along the back roads in Mission, chances are that all that footage was taken by Sarah’s mom. Now think back… that’s a whole lot of footage documented!!! Yep! And I can say with all my heart, this woman is probably one of THE most devoted mothers I have EVER met in my life… and I’ve known a lot of great moms!!!
Ever since I got into my health and fitness kick, I’ve heard so many people say,”I would go run (or bike or swim) with you but I just don’t have the time because I have (insert excuse of your choice)”. I always smile and never push, but Anita always comes to mind when I hear people say things like this.
Anita has a child fighting cancer. A NORMAL day of a mother is hectic enough, add to this being a mother of a special needs child with cancer. Now pile on 20-some triathletes who do various workouts all throughout the day all over the county and events all over the State of Texas. Now add on about 50 runners with various distance marathons trampling all over everywhere… and she’s always there.. WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE…and a camera to record YOUR smile.
In February of last year, while at a “mission moment” run at Bill Schupp Park, Anita announced that Sarah was cancer free. I wrote about it in my blog here: https://runmyssierun.com/2014/02/16/blurry/
Her mother, Anita, took center stage for our mission moment. She announced that Sarah had been declared officially in remission earlier this week.
Anita was the first person I ran to when I embarrassingly DNF’d at CapTex last year. I wrote about it here: https://runmyssierun.com/2014/05/29/capital-of-texas-triathlon/
Ashamed, coughing and crying, I ran straight to Anita. I wrapped my arms around her, dug my head into her shoulder and cried out “I didn’t make it. I didn’t make it”
It should be of no surprise that when Team in Training decided to create a TEAM SARAH and asked if would like to be a part of it, a split second hadn’t passed before “YES” blurted out. How could I refuse the adorable little girl who steals all my pickles from my SAG kit?
This is Sarah Morales. She has been my honored hero for several seasons and now I have the honor of being on HER team.
Would you please be on her team, too? We are raising $100,000.00 in her honor so that other children like her can be healed and get assistance. Please give what you can here on this link: http://pages.teamintraining.org/sctx/nbhtri15/mcardenasb
Posted in Uncategorized on January 11, 2015 by runmyssierun
Miracles happen all the time, every day. I’ve prayed for them. I’ve seen them happen. I’ve also been witness to unanswered prayers. I’ve been witness to agony, evil, sin, struggle and especially the confusion of those so devout (or seemingly devout) who don’t understand why they deserve what is happening to them.
Over the last two and a half decades, I’ve delved deeply into the taboo corners of religion, faith and our higher power. And while I rarely speak about what I personally believe in, I do speak often about my Catholic upbringing and the wonderful foundation it has given me; the understanding that certain things happen simply because there is a grander purpose that we (as individuals) may never have the opportunity to understand.
I do pray. I do believe in the power of multiples in prayer. I do believe in faith. I do believe in ONE God. And I do believe He has many names, like me. My name, Myssie, becomes Margarita in Mexico, Gretchen in Germany and Margaret in England but I am still in essence just Myssie. And what I say in one country may become translated into another language and mean something slightly different in another country but still in essence, I still strive to do good, be better and love a lot and drink coffee and listen to all sorts of music… except polka… just can’t get into that. Are you understanding the correlation I’m making with regards to religion? I don’t know how else to explain it other than I can possibly be the Catholic version of a very politically correct John Lennon without all the great fame and musical talent…. oh and I don’t smoke pot, either.
So what do God and prayers and miracles have to with cancer and marathons or triathlons?
Third buoy of an open water swim triathlon: “Oh my God! I still have how much more to do to reach the finish line?!?!?!”
Mile 22 of a marathon: “Please God Please help me keep my pace! Don’t let my IT band pop!”
3rd round of chemo: “Heal (me or insert name of choice), God, and I will serve your will. I’ll do whatever you want. Just take the cancer away!”
Even if I replace the word “God” with another name of any other religion of your choice, and the prayer is answered (of which I’ve seen many times) or unanswered and the outcome ended up completely opposite of what I prayed for… it seems the big Guy upstairs has a way of letting me know that it was only because something else had to have happened, a lesson learned, a person met, a friendship formed, a hardship endured and/or conquered, to have gotten me to the place where I am now…. where I am supposed to be now. It’s a crazy plan, I know. But somehow, He’s got it all figured out.
Or at least I have faith that He does.
Today, I was able to witness Momma’s miracle – or at least a little bit of it – happen. She prayed so hard not for herself to heal from cancer but for her family to heal. She prayed for “softened hearts” she called it. It is no secret that the wife of my baby brother, Donny, and I have never been close nor seen eye to eye but today we sat together for almost two hours by ourselves talking calmly to each other over coffee about healing after the deaths we had to deal with, the boys we are to continue to raise and about Team in Training and her interest in doing a triathlon.
I was careful in our conversation as to not ask questions that could possibly trigger anger. In fact, the only question I asked was at the very beginning with “How are you?”. She was just as careful in letting me know that she was dealing with her anger issues. And I was eager to share with her the experience that helped me heal in hopes that she would have a similar healing experience with Team in Training.
And while I am still cautious about our relationship, I cannot help but be so filled with hope that this may be the answer to Momma’s prayers for a happy and healing family that she always wanted us to be. And a way for me and my family to see more of my nephews!!! One of which is my Godson.
Running a marathon with Team in Training gave me the opportunity to meet and get to know Sissy’s biological family. I now know that this was part of her plan. Maybe a triathlon with Team in Training and my late baby brother’s widow will give me the opportunity to heal with his. Maybe this is God’s plan.
Sometimes running or swimming or cycling isn’t always about pace and endurance. Sometimes, especially in my case and probably countless others, it’s about answering some prayers when least expected.
I hope Momma knows and is able to see what happened today from Heaven or the universe or wherever you believe we go after life ends. Maybe that’s why the sun was shining this afternoon. Maybe she was our sunshine during our little miracle 🙂
Thank you to those who have donated already! Every little bit counts and I cannot do this by myself. Thank you!!!
Posted in Uncategorized on January 10, 2015 by runmyssierun
We all have a journey and while many of our paths are similar, no two perspectives are identical… however, I believe in this case I have found a twin. Irene’s journey of witnessing her parent stolen by cancer is overshadowed by the love and faith of God and the many miracles (or “signs” that I call them) that soothe our sorrowed heart. While I am a few steps ahead of her on the map of our journey, this was a great reminder of why I do what I do.. and why I MUST CONTINUE.
It seemed to come out of nowhere. For over a month there had not been a drop of rain, and yet here it was, early in the morning, and all around the thick, dark clouds masked the sun and gestured at the approaching storm. I arrived at the funeral home more than an hour before we were scheduled to depart that morning. The two days prior had been a blur of funeral planning, visitations, hugs, tears, song, prayer, more tears, and more hugs. It was the morning of June 25, 2014, and I was about to celebrate my father’s life, his legacy, and lay him to rest.
We had been expecting his passing. It wasn’t sudden. Eight months earlier, On October 14, 2013, my father had a tremble in his hand while holding a drink, his grip released and the drink fell to the ground. Not one to shy away…
Posted in Uncategorized on January 6, 2015 by runmyssierun
When I first made the decision to write this blog, I did so with a few rules. I was going to be completely candid and vulnerable documenting my feelings in regards to EVERYTHING having to do with cancer and how it affects me and my loved ones and EVERYTHING having to do with my promise to Sissy and running a marathon for her… which later turned into triathlon and cycling. However, I would never write about my family.
Today, I’m going to break that rule.
My rule breaker might surprise you. It surprised me. You see, deep down inside, I am probably the biggest mother hen you’ve ever met. I’m protective of my family to the point that I should be leased out to the CIA for lessons on how to do this stuff. I am also very proud.
Each family member has their way of making their mark on me. One, in particular, stood out this week.
(flashback)
As an adult, watching your parent take their last breath in your arms is devastating enough to the point that it whittles you back to the age of three. The torment made upon your heart is numbed only by the useless gasps made in a temper tantrum with God desperately trying to negotiate just a few more moments. I was a forty-some year old grown, professional, civilized, well-mannered woman reduced to the likings of a toddler. On that beautiful Easter Sunday afternoon, I was so focused on the loss of my mother that I was blind to my two boys in the next room with their Easter baskets. We never did the Easter Egg Hunt nor did we go to church that day.
If this loss affected an adult in this grandiose manner, how must it have affected my young sons?
(present day)
Two years have passed. My eldest is now away from the nest of this mother hen but my eyes have awakened to the respect, courage and bravery that lies within him. I am still unsure of the reasons behind it but my two nephews have returned home and I can assume that three angels above, all the rosaries my Momma prayed and the Grace of God had a little to do with it. I was finally able to see them and have dinner with them. Nico, my eldest nephew – and Godson – and a teenager that looks identical to his daddy, shared with me that he had recently re-read the letter that my son wrote him while he was at ACTs retreat. This touched me. How special was that letter that it was saved for this long period of time? Most teenagers trash all that stuff. It must have meant a lot to him. I don’t know what words were in that letter but just knowing it was kept told me that it was pretty special. A few days later, I received a text from my Aunt Letty in San Antonio who said her son had just received a letter from my son at boot camp. Again, I was touched and proud that my son was thoughtful enough to handwrite letters to his family and friends… I had already received two letters myself 🙂 And in those words to me, I immediately recognized what was important.
But it wasn’t until I sat down at my computer to print out my sponsor request letters I told you about two posts back that it hit me… the love and respect I shared with my mother is probably pretty identical to that of the love and respect that is shared between my son and I. I found an old essay he had written while he was in middle school that was backed up on my hard drive and I was pummelled to tears. I’ll share a little bit of both with y’all and hope to God it doesn’t embarrass him when he returns!!!
In his letter to me from the military, he repeated over and over again for me not to worry. That he was fine and that there was even a saying going around that was flattering to him. “Be like Barajas!” He said all the officers there were scolding the recruits because they weren’t busting their butts like he was. He said everyone smiles now when they say his name and it makes him feel real good. #belikebarajas 🙂
And the essay
Bright and cherry red, the newly installed play set beckoned me to play on it. New, with no bite marks, dog prints, or melted spots that you seem to find on every run of the mill play set, which almost comes standard on every public recreational institution for children. No, this rivaled the discovery of the Garden of Eden, the discovery of the Americas, and the discovery of the Ark of the Covenant in my young, ravishing eyes. Of course no child could touch it, for it lied on the other side of a four foot tall safety net fence. I though in my head “It’s already done! Why should we wait for the supervisor to give approval?!” I knew of course that the supervisor delayed the approval just to taunt us, he absolutely despised children.
I had enough. As my mother chatted and conversed with the usual soccer moms I eased my hand away from her maternal grip. Now free, this granted my chance to do something great. Soon, I will topple the playground reputation, I shall be known as “Orange Tape Tearer” and all the children will know what I accomplished. Then I realized, I couldn’t share it, no then it would just resemble the other play sets the loomed just a few feet away. This had to be for myself, for no one else. I peeled away the orange safety net when all the others were busy playing and dug myself into the deep twisted metal tendrils until I reached the heart of the play set, where I hid myself from the outside world by metal rods and plastic walls. In the middle of the play set the evening sun pierced through the red plastic walls, creating a red aesthetic aurora that went unappreciated to a small child’s eyes. No I proceeded to pull out my toy cars I had lugged around all day in my tattered pockets.
I built tracks for my cars on the wood chips the littered the playground, I started to drive them on the roof, then on the wall, and soon I realized that the red glow had gone away. “Oh, no!” I thought. Chills went through my blood at that second. I scrambled to pick up my toy cars like they were jacks and I peered outside only to find a sight of pure dusk.
“Mom! Mom!” I yelled, only a tiny high pitch squeak seemed to be leaving my mouth. Oh, how much I’d do to be with my mother that second. I felt my way out of the dark and twisted metal to find myself at the foreground of the playground. I decided to climb up the slide to get a good vantage point of the park to see if anyone would help me. I went up the steps like a toddler, on all fours until I reached the top. This is where I noticed that some if the guard rails were missing, “Maybe this is why the supervisor never approved the playground…” I thought.
“Michael! Michael!” I heard a faint yell of in the distance.
“Michael!” I heard my mom!
“Mom, over here!” The small search party led by my mother came towards my direction, their small spotlight flashing every which way. They came closer and closer following my voice. I couldn’t see their faces, the lights covered them, and it looked like holes of light pierced through a dark black sheet. Finally, they were at the base of the playground. One shined a light at me, and it blinded and stunned me. I fell backwards, dazed from the bright light, and fell off the twenty foot high slide. I remember reaching for my toy cars as I fell midair, and that’s it.
My eyes opened, I took a sip of water from my bedside table and got out of bed. I creaked open the door and pitted and patted down the hallway to my parents bedroom. I peeped in and snuck up to my mother.
“Mom, I had a bad dream again.” I whispered careful not to wake up my father. She didn’t say anything, but only motioned to her bed. I climbed up on the bed and snuggled under the covers. I never felt safer until that moment.
This boy, this baby boy of mine, has so much more strength and courage than I EVER imagined he could have. He is devoting his life for this nation so that we have our freedoms. That’s my boy. And I hope to #BELIKEBARAJAS
Posted in Uncategorized on January 5, 2015 by runmyssierun
I got my swim in… outside. It was 58 degrees and sunny in a heated pool 😉
Don’t be jealous. It is what it is. I’ll pay for it later.
By 6:00 p.m. I was a mess. My bones were aching, air made me nauseous, head was pounding, chills, sweats, chills, sweats… and then sneezing. I got hit with the flu.
I knew what I needed to do. SLEEP
Oh… wait… but Black Hawk Down is on TV.
This isn’t going to work. Once I’m over this flu… things will change. Until then, the big Guy upstairs is taking matters into His own hands and making sure my body gets some rest. click click
And so it begins… the decision to do this last big event was one that took much contemplation, ensuring that proper time would be allocated to train and fundraise, my head and spirit were centered and I was around the right support network to keep me focused, grounded and as successful as possible.
I downloaded all three of the courses for Ironman Victoria already and googled photos to see the lake, get a glimpse of the average water temp, a sneak peek at what the running trail looks like and the bike elevation. I was told that because it is a sea side town, it’s a flat sea level area and that there is little chance of snow and that water temperatures are “relatively warm but wetsuit legal” and the running trails are the “greenest of all Ironman courses because they are all trail and not pavement or asphalt”. My concern is the use of the words “relatively warm”. See, my “relative” area is tropical South Texas and when we use the term warm, it’s about 100 degrees. I predict some temperature shock on my part. I also see some elevation, too. Lots of elevations… like multiple heights and colors. Oh boy.
Whoa.. wait. Does that sign say “frozen”?
My first official week of my iron training didn’t come easy. Every day came with only a maximum of four hours of sleep. I pushed through my first few days of workouts and dragged the rest. Not good. If I continue this way, I’m pretty much begging for injuries to happen. Proper rest is just as important as proper nutrition and hydration. Before I go any further, a huge change must happen.
How did I prepare for my first triathlon this way? Oh yeah… I was living with my dad at his house who went to bed by 10:00p.m. (remember that my mom had recently passed away)
How have I done it since then? Oh yeah… struggled and lots of coffee. Not exactly a great plan for any triathlete. Especially one who has just had the realization AGAIN that life is fragile and a gift that is not guaranteed to be here tomorrow.
The weather hasn’t cooperated completely either… however, that could be just an excuse as I see my fellow run junkees post photos of their daily runs like these…
So I have no real excuse when it’s drizzling and 45 degrees in tropical South Texas. These guys here would kill for conditions like mine. So bottom line is that I’m quite spoiled here… and used to it. I hit the gym and incorporated some weight training alongside my dreadmill run, RPM cycling and stairclimber workouts. I have yet to hit to pool but hope to do so tomorrow. I’ll suck it up and do only outdoor pool and OWS workouts to get used to colder temps as to acclimate my body to the Canadian waters of Victoria. *lets see how brave I am when it really gets cold!!!
Just as my workouts are planned, so is my fundraising and PR. This will likely anger some people as the community I live in is “humble”. We have been taught NOT to speak up, to turn the other cheek, don’t stir the pot, don’t cause waves, keep your head down, speak only when spoken to, don’t bring attention to yourself… yada yada yada. We have been taught to do what we can with what we have and never to ask for help… certainly never to beg or try to tell/inform others of better ways to do something. What this taught me was that if you are obscure enough… no one will see you, no one will hear you, no one will know about the things you care about and certainly no one will care and nothing will change… period. What good does that do?
This week, my emails will go out. My letters requesting help and donations – any kind of donations – money, sponsorships, materials, time and effort (including just sharing and reposting my crazy facebook and twitter and instagram posts to your friends) .. go out, too. It all happens this week. You’ve seen me on billboards
You’ve seen me on the front page
You’ve seen me on TV
You’ve seen me on street corners
You’ve seen me speak at events, schools and any place where I can tell my story
I just spoke to the most amazing group of young women and my heart melted when a swarm of them caught me as I was leaving. They each asked me to take individual photos with them and spoke to me about their own experiences with cancer and their own “impossible goals” that they want to achieve. Honored and humbled and a smile from ear to ear!!!
You’ve seen me with celebrities who also share similar struggles with cancer and other “impossible” struggles
Austin Mahone
Suzy Favor Hamilton
John “The Penguin” Bingham, author of the Penguin Chronicles
Ethan Zohn – Winner of TV Reality show Survivor and two time cancer survivor
“La Myssie es muy loca” if you know this song, you know who this is 😉
And you’ve seen me go to to the top to try to make a difference when it comes to treating and curing cancer and similar diseases
You’ve seen me coordinate other walk/run races to bring awareness and fund colonoscopies for people in my community who cannot afford them so that they have a fighting chance to beat cancer at an early stage
Some of you have shown your own support by wearing a little bit of the love around your neck or wrist or even continuing to show your own love at race events… spreading joy, love and showing everyone that we can all do what we can to be healthier and fitter
You’ve probably had a little “magic in a cup” a time or two (and yes this local favorite shake really is the best you’ll ever have)
You’ve seen me as an advocate for health and fitness by exposing my own personal health factors and how I involved my team of medical doctors to follow me along in my journey through marathons, triathlons, century rides and now my half-ironman to ensure that everything I’m doing is good for me and within my body’s limits.
ME Before and After
My point being is that this shy girl has used all the PR and marketing skills she has to promote the cause closest to her heart and is exhausted. I don’t want to hide in obscurity (where I actually feel most comfortable) because I’m afraid that the quest for affordable and accessible cancer treatments and the ability to find the causes and cures for cancer will become pushed aside when hot topics of news, entertainment, etc. come around.
Facing the biggest physical challenge, knowing I’m WAY out of my league, at a time when a handful of the haters are most vocal and most people have spent beyond their means on holiday gifts and knowing that the majority of the people who have given already have no more to give and those who have listened/read/followed/joined along have made health and fitness a permanent part of their lives… why in the world would I still be doing this? Why would I continue to put myself through all this pain, ridicule, sacrifice?
Because my Momma cannot run. Because Sissy cannot ride her bike. Because Donny cannot swim. Because Rodney cannot laugh. Because Jana cannot smile. Because Dezma is no longer here. None of them are. And I am. And I made a promise.
This is not about me. This is not about them. This is about us. All of us. TOGETHER.
So you’re going to see me again…. asking for your help and for you to join with me. Come with me now.
December 2013 I wanted to continue to do 26.2s but could only finish a 13.1.
Because I’ve always said to never ever give up to so many people, I didn’t want to be that person who doesn’t practice what I preach. I came back to this December with the intention of finishing what I said I was going to do last year but knowing what I wanted to continue to do, I announced after completing this full marathon that it would be my last.
December 2014 I completed my third and last 26.2
Immediately after posting on social media that it was my last, I was bombarded with questions and disbelief.
You can see my response. I chose to do extreme events to prove a point, to raise eye brows and make people aware of the reason I was doing them… cancer. In the last three years, training and preparing for these events have thrown me into the world of health and fitness… a world that I was never really a part of. It is fascinating!!!!
The struggles within that world are perpetual and ever changing with a flare of darwinism.
The struggle to overcome your own self-doubt.
The struggle to bypass the nay-sayers.
The struggle to abide by the rules of nutrition, physical exertion, rest and keeping it all consistent.
The struggle to keep your competitive nature in balance to where it pushes you but doesn’t make you go to extremes.
The struggle to understand that even when everyone around you are popping pills, drinking chemicals, Pre-workout in the a.m. and Ambien in the p.m., injecting shots to be thinner, faster, stronger… it clicks… is that really healthy? Is that really fitness? or is that because they’re comparing themselves to someone else? My struggle to make my life healthier and become more fit also comes with a lot of education, the release of comparison and judgement of others and the inclusion of not just a healthier body but a healthy mind and spirit. My struggle is to remain natural and chemical free even if my times don’t change or get worse and my weight increases as I get older. My vision of healthy and fit doesn’t match the vision of many others. I don’t judge or look down on anyone who does the above. I simply stay quiet and gracefully decline when they insist I take this pill or drink this pre-workout. The perception of healthy and fit is as tricky to define as beauty.
The struggle can sometimes be overwhelming. And at Mile 22, it seems like an inevitable plunge into the abyss of bleh.
Running a marathon forces you to have some pretty deep discussions with yourself for a few hours. And while admittedly, some of MY discussions are a bit delusional, there are points of clarity that can be reached in this process that can never be touched on in any other situation. I’ve made some monumental decisions, plans and goals while running marathons and training runs. This marathon, the McAllen Marathon, had great discussion, debate and decisions made… up until mile 22. It went all crazy after that.
Let’s begin with my training for this event… it was odd and lonely without my Team in Training teammates running by my side this season. I wanted to spend these last few months with my eldest son before he left to the Military on the first of December so I backed out of TNT this season and trained on my own “when life allowed me to”. Life isn’t very consistent with me. But one thing holds true about life with me… when I PLAN things out (like a workout calendar).. they’re sure to never happen as planned. Many times, my long runs on weekends had to be skipped because hubby wanted to go hunting at the ranch or was called in to work or one reason or another.
But even though I wasn’t part of this season’s TEAM, I was still asked to help encourage so I’d go write inspirational cheers with chalk on the side walks of the trail. Twice it rained and washed away my pretty graffiti. But word got around quickly and I began to hear chatter about how others can cheer and encourage runners. And I’m really really glad that happened!!!
Team let me wear my purple jersey and meet up with them on race morning to do my traditional “selfie” but didn’t get to see Jeanice for my traditional prayer.
Remembering how well that super spray made my legs feel at my last “redemption” triathlon, I sprayed the beegeezus outta that can onto my legs. I’m sure I reeked of menthol downwind for three miles. I stretched and jumped and stretched and jumped. I found my playlist, planted my earbuds, took more “selfies” in the crowd, programmed Nike Run and my Garmin and Kapow! We’re off!!!
I started off slow and easy. It was a nice comfortable pace that allowed me to quickly find my rhythm for endurance. So long as I kept this pace – which matched the beat of my music on the playlist, of course – I knew I’d be fine. The course was the same that I remembered from last year. I was feeling good. Deep down, I wanted to go faster but knew the consequences if I did. I felt only a slight discomfort in my shoes. They felt heavy today, like if I was scurrying in bricks. My kick was low and my stride was short. I remembered Coach Jose saying short strides were good for marathons because it reduced the occurrence of injury. Eh, so I didn’t think anything of it.
As I trotted up 29th Street close to the neighborhood I used to live in, I saw the sun peek out above the tree line on the East horizon. And there he was… a man in full gear, gas mask, boots, heavy uniform, carrying the United States Flag.
“Michael!!! Michael has to run like that!!!” I screamed to myself. The first round of tears shot out remembering my baby boy was far away from me at boot camp doing just this! Just like I saw in my first marathon in San Diego… but this guy was clearly already hurting… and it was just the first couple of miles in.
Oh good Lord, please, have mercy on him! I hope he’s not doing the full marathon this way!
The cheerleaders up and down 29th street were amazing! People were out on lawn chairs, Cyndi, Tony & Miriam, Miss Connie – Michael’s piano teacher and her little girl and neighbors, Drew, Kat & Anita, and countless others all with posters and yelling at the top of their lungs!!!
THIS
WAS
AWESOME!
I was at a solid 11:00 minute per mile pace. I fluctuated only by a few seconds up and down at each mile up to about Mile 12. This pace is nothing phenomenal but to me, finally finding a steady pace without stopping is monumental!!! I hadn’t stopped at all. *This was something that Xavie – hubby – had been harping on me for months about. I had planned to do solid tens but in the last couple of weeks of training, decided to take it down by one minute. BUT MY FEET WERE KILLING ME!!! As the songs on my playlist ended, there were about 3 seconds between songs and I could hear squeaking. My feet were squeaking!!! What in the world???
LuHuan, a team mate of mine had come in to pace me for a few miles. She complimented me on my steady strong pace and then kept quiet. She had been running with me for a few years now and knew what worked for me… music. So she allowed me to zone out and focus on my breathing and the beat.
After a few more miles, Ronnie joined me for a short while but my pace was way too slow for him. A part of me wanted to speed it up but didn’t. I was afraid of risking the endurance – it suddenly got really humid and didn’t want to chance anything… so Ronnie popped off to pace another.
I was alone after that for the rest of the race. I saw Tanya and the group of girls I had hoped to join up with just ahead and knew there would be no way I could catch up with them at this point unless I really booked it. They looked strong. I waved and nodded as they went opposite me on the overpass. I jumped it up a bit to catch up to them.
However, by the time I made it around to the point where the course turns West, I saw Miguel across the street closing up the full marathon participants. Race crew volunteers were following him in trucks picking up orange pylons off the street as he passed them. I yelled across the street to him and threw him my hand signs. He yelled and threw them back.
My teammates had walked Miguel in to the finish line just one month ago at his FIRST full marathon. This guy is a beast! He went on to do another FULL marathon just one month later… which is why I wanted to be by his side this time. It takes a lot of determination to do something THIS grand!!!
That’s when my big bright idea came to me. I have no one waiting for me at the finish line. I had already warned my family that I would be very late coming in. I was pretty much free to take as long as I wanted and enjoy the day. I decided to slow it down again and wait for Miguel so that I could cross the finish line with him. *Miguel is someone quite phenomenal and someone who inspires me. I’ve done something like this only once before and that was for Lisa Cavazos at the Get Up and Train 1/2 Marathon. She’s someone who inspires me as well but it was why I turned around that made me reminisce about it. She was a little emotional about not having family at the finish line there for her and didn’t want to be alone after such a feat. I didn’t have anyone waiting for me either and I wasn’t looking forward to being alone either. So, why not cross with someone who inspires and not be alone?
Just as I had convinced myself to wait for Miguel, I saw a woman ahead of me turn into the parking lot at Travis Middle School. She slowly sat down and then laid down. I sped up to see if she was ok. She said this was her first full marathon and was cramping up, needed to stretch and that her husband was on his way to pick her up. I asked her if she wanted me to help her stretch. I guess she thought I was a crazy stranger because she kept saying her husband was on his way and declined. I tried to gracefully convince her to stand up and keep moving. I remembered that stopping immediately after running all these miles was very dangerous. You need to slowly cool down for your body to adjust to a normal status.
The volunteers from the water station nearby saw what had happened. Clearly she was in the dreaded “bite me” zone all my teammates had warned me about. She wasn’t listening to me so I let the volunteers go do their thing.
I went on… stuck in my ear plugs and jammed on. It was beginning to get really hot and humid but the breeze was doing it’s part to console me. As I continued North up Bicentennial, I got the good tunes on my playlist. My mood changed and it seemed as if there were water stops every two blocks… I was taking an easy stroll now. MMMMM orange slices, pineapple and water… oh but my feet need to soak in a raspa!!! I don’t know what happens to my mind at about mile 18… my fantasies about raspas become quite… unhealthy.
I’ve made a purposeful effort to never show pain in my face when running these crazy events so when I see a photographer, I force a smile and make sure Momma sees my hand sign telling her that I love her. But this photographer I saw was different… she had two dogs and was prettier than all the others. It was Laura!!! And she was getting after me because she wanted a good shot and I had pineapple in my mouth and was prancing. She yelled at me to run!!!
Ok ok… the things I do for a photo op!!!
I paused for a while and told her I would go up for just a few miles and then wait for Miguel to join up so that we could cross the finish line together. I didn’t know how long she had planned to stay there and didn’t want to force her to stay longer but had hoped that knowing my plan, IF she did stay to see him go by, she’d text me and I’d have a better ETA of him meeting up with me. So far over the last couple of years of friendship, she’s been pretty spot on about reading my brain waves…
Not but a couple of miles after that, I was asked by another streetside cheerleader if I was ok. “Yes, I’m good… just slow is all.” He responded with “Another runner collapsed and didn’t make it. Just making sure you’re ok.”
“Ya, ya. I’m fine.” — I didn’t think anything of it at the time. When he told me, I just thought a runner fell and didn’t cross. Being the clutz that I am, I thought they knew I was clumsy and probably was showing signs of the wobbles.
“Oh lord, am I looking pathetic to people now? Am I showing signs of fatigue? Are people worried if I’m going to make it? Should I throw in the towel? Are people making fun of me? Are they doubting me?” The wicked voice of doubt in my head became louder and louder as each painful step forward was taken.
“Just don’t stop Myssie! Don’t stop and you’ll be fine.” I kept repeating to myself. Hubby had told me a few weeks before that even if my pace decreased, so long as I didn’t stop, I’d be fine. “But I have to wait for Miguel!”
Another cheerleader friend saw me and ran up to me, dousing me with water from head to toe. “Are you ok?” she asked me. “Yes, yes. I just can’t stop!!! I can’t stop!” I must have sounded like a lunatic to her. In hindsight, I probably was!!!
In the last couple of miles, I waited for Miguel. I was walking and positioned my eyes Southward down Bicentennial but still couldn’t see him. I began to worry. A lot!!! “Was he the runner who fell? Why hasn’t Laura called or text me? He should be here by now.” I said to myself. And then another race volunteer drove up in a truck and said “Ma’am, we need you to keep going so we can close up the course. We’re pulling the runners off the course but you’re so close, you need to finish now.”
With no sign of Miguel, I hung my head and went forward… stuck my earbuds into my head again and trotted forward. My phone rang. Seriously??? EVERYONE important to me KNOWS I’m running!!! Who’s calling me???
It was my cousin Charlie. “He must be calling about going to the ranch and forgot I was running today,” I thought. I disconnected. He called again. I disconnected AGAIN. He left a message.
One mile away from the finish line… I listened to the voicemail he left.
That’s when it all started to make sense. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
No. Not Scott. No. No way… Oh God! No. No. I’m at the end of the marathon and my mind plays tricks on me and these are crazy thoughts. They’re just crazy thoughts that I misunderstood.
But the tears kept coming down and I couldn’t catch my breath. My feet were in so much pain. A pain like I’ve never felt before EVER running EVER. and I just could not stop crying.
Rolando jumped out of the stands and saw me struggling. I wasn’t but just a half block away from the finish. He put his arm around me and pushed. “Go!” He yelled.
And in all the events I’ve run, I’ve always smiled at the finish and threw up my hand sign to Momma letting her know I love her… except for this one. The camera caught me struggling, crying at the finish.
No smile. No “I love you” hand sign. This finish was the most difficult of all events.
i wobbled to the car.. by myself.. no finisher picture this time. Called hubby, told him I finished and that I was ok and he immediately said “Call Sasha now. Let her know we’re here for her.” I couldn’t call her. I sent her a text. I remembered all too well how I felt after my brother Donny had passed away. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I knew she couldn’t either.
Twenty six point two miles done. And I just didn’t have the heart to rejoice.
For those of you who are local to the McAllen region and Rio Grande Valley, you know the rest of this story. For those of you in the rest of my blogosphere, Scott was a great City Councilman for the City of McAllen. The McAllen marathon was an event that he helped originate because of his love of running marathons. He was the Scott that was on my cousin Charlie’s voicemail. He had removed himself from the race at about mile 20 and went home with his brother and his sister in law who had also run the race but collapsed shortly after of a massive heart attack.
Hundreds came to show their respects at the convention center. However, it was the running community that clearly made their marks upon the hearts of all the Valley afterwards what the power and unity and respect amongst runners truly is.
The same night a memorial service was held to celebrate the life of Commissioner Scott C. Crane, hundreds of people showed up to run or walk in his memory at Town Lake Park in McAllen. Here is a touching tribute in honor of the community leader and a look back at the Scott C. Crane Memorial Run.
Run. Run if you can for as long as you can as fast as you can for your own reason. Run or jog or walk or do what ever it is that makes you feel alive. It is a gift, a gift that is not guaranteed will be here tomorrow.
Everything she says.. everything… is what I felt, is what I saw, is what it was. And still, you won’t ever truly understand it until it happens to you or someone you love.
“Cancer appears like an unexpected plot twist or a diabolical villain. All of the cliche things that people say about life are true. And become even truer when something like this happens. It is precious and brief and cruel and sweet. Even if it isn’t fair.”
(Left to Right) Arlene, Irma (me), and Eric. First ride of the year for us was all about catching up to the group. Fun Ride. – Eric Jimenez 
RunMyssieRun 