T minus 2 days: So close I can taste it. 2 more sleeps and a start line. I've been in intentional denial all week so I don't have any little breakdowns. Just easier to do everything I'm supposed to do but pretend this Marathon is really weeks and weeks away. Otherwise the anxiety creeps in and we all know that isn't good. Anxiety isn't a driving factor for me but more of a detriment so I handle it with a good strong dose of denial and I'm OK with that.
Why am I doing this again? This was a testTo train harder to push beyond my limits. I moved out in front of some of my running buddies, the buddies that have motivated and kept me connected. I felt safe with them but although I'm running with TTD (and I love her!) I do feel a wee bit more scared that I won't achieve this goal without them by my side. I have forged more than just a running friendship with them. They are the friends a girl dreams of on and off the running trails.
Then tragedy struck. My high school track coach, Tim Bruder, passed away on Saturday night. He was in Fresno for the California Interscholastic Federation state cross country championships supporting one of his XC students and came home not feeling well. Not sure what the final diagnosis was but he had been battling diabetes and we all know about those contributing factors. He was only 54 years old.
Its been a really long time since I've ran on that track my freshman year of High School during the Spring of 1993. I had to dust off the cobwebs in my memory but last night laying in bed mentally packing for this weekend a bunch of memories flooded back. Things he said, things he made me do that I never thought I could, things I took with me from that spring day to today. Most specifically he asked if my diagnosis of Melanoma was going to stop me from running. He was the first person I had to tell out loud. I didn't know how to tell him without disappointing him and at the same time being worried he wouldn't let me run. "There's this thing called sun screen you know, but this is about the rest of YOUR life." he walked out of the room and left me peddling on the stationary bike thinking, never giving me the answer I really wanted to hear, or maybe he did. I ran the rest of the season and I ran HARD. I didn't know that would be my only season of Track and Field with him. I moved that summer to a school that could not compare to Alhambra or its coaches. So for the man who gave me my love of running, I'm dedicating this to you Coach Bruder. When it gets hard, when I get tired, I'll think of Nazi hill, I'll think of the trail runs to the bay, I'll think of ice cream runs to Thrifly on Fridays, I'll think of that Berkley track when I PR'ed in the mile. Sunday I'll think of you.