Race Weekend

It's been nearly one month since the marathon, and though I stayed current with running via feet I certainly fell behind on running via mouth. So, without further ado:

Arrival and Check-In. We had planned that we would leave on the Saturday prior for Boston, and I'd carefully packed all my marathon gear and paperwork at least 100 times against the checklist throughout Thursday and Friday. But Saturday morning, in the rush of trying to get the two boys in the car and make sure all their drinks and food and toys and diapers and whatever were all packed, I proceeded to brilliantly leave behind two of the most critical documents that I would require:

1. My BAA registration card, which must be presented in order to check in and receive your runner's bib; and

2. My DFMC folder, containing every piece of critical information for the weekend's events as well as all of my notes.

Both were carefully put out on the kitchen counter in anticipation of the drive, and then left there. Blissfully unaware that I'd done this, we drove up to Boston, arrived to Lisa and Seth's, spent the day playing with all of the kids in the park, and then went out for a great dinner in the South End.

It wasn't until about 1100pm that night, as I lay in bed, that I realized what I'd done (or not done, as the case may be), causing me to nearly start hyperventilating. So that last possible night of solid sleep was squandered as I lay tossing and turning, imagining the BAA telling me that I could not be admitted and panicking that after training for well over 450 miles and 7 months, I'd be unable to run in Monday's marathon.

Sunday morning I was up at 5, drinking coffee and fretting until it neared 8am, when both the Dana-Farber and the BAA check-in desks opened. At about 7:30 I left Brookline for the Prudential Center. This was dumb move #2.

Why? Because I'd forgotten that all the roads were blocked off for the Inaugural BAA 5k that was starting that morning. And, so focused on my fear about having no paperwork, I blithely drove down Beacon, banged a right on Fairfield, and then turned onto Boylston to find ....

The entire road closed off, a bunch of runners a few blocks down waiting for the starting gun, and people looking at me like I'd lost my tiny little mind. In retrospect, I suppose that wasn't an unreasonable assumption on their part.

So I drove another block down, the police let me back out of the runners' path, and I went on to drive and park (legally) at the Marriott. Now I'm totally frazzled, and I go first to Dana-Farber to see if they have advice for fools who leave all their ID at home. They were very kind. First, they talked me off the ledge. Second, they sent me to the BAA to get that sorted out and told me to then return. And third, they showed me a poster that I did not know was in the works that reminded me again what this was all about and got me to chill: the Living Proof poster.

Everyone on the team who is a cancer survivor had a gold star in their check-in package. We would each post our star to the board, which in turn was part of our DFMC Team photos from the Hopkinton Refuge. It was a lovely gesture of recognition, and one which reminded me to focus on what was really going on and to calm down about all the administrative worries that would surely sort themselves out.

And they did. As I walked over toward the BAA check-in I thought to myself "there are 25,000 runners checking in this weekend. I can't be the only jackass who forgot all her BAA identification."

And I wasn't. In fact, there must be enough jackasses who do this every year that the BAA has a dedicated stand, staffed with a trio of volunteers, individuals whose sole responsibility is to print out replacement BAA identification for the fools who left theirs at home (hello).

B R E A T H I N G again. Suddenly, air into lungs is much easier. Phew.

I walked back to the DFMC check-in, got all my required paperwork, gave all my required paperwork, and wished it wasn't only 10am because I already felt like I needed a strong revival cocktail.

The great thing was that I finally got to meet all the amazing DFMC staff members with whom I'd talked and emailed all season. It was so wonderful to put faces to names, and to meet people who already felt like friends. You guys are amazing; it was such a pleasure to finally chat in person!

Here's the poster, in development:

Since I'm a breast cancer survivor, and since I was still feeling like an epic boob that morning, I put my star smack on top of the two "O's". It just seemed fitting.

The rest of Sunday morning was spent with friends stopping by Lisa's (at one point we had 6 little boys all under the age of 4 there - INSANE! AND FUN!) and just hanging out. Friends, family, little boys on swings, and lots of sunshine. It was all good.

DFMC Pasta Party. Sunday afternoon, Jamie and I brought the boys and my family to the DFMC Pasta Party, which was amazing on so many levels. Sicilia, my pediatric partner, was doing well enough that she came with her mom and dad, and her grandparents. It was so much fun to see her, and she was an absolute pistol.

Our two boys were a little overwhelmed by the size of the gathering (about 2500 people?), but not Sicilia. She was circling the table, working the room, laughing and cracking jokes, and charming everyone who saw her.

In the entry foyer, each of the Pediatric Partners has a HUGE decorated poster. At left is Sicilia with her mom (Carissa) and dad (Eric) in front of hers.

Check out the hair! Miss Sicilia has a pixie cut of lush brown locks growing back in!! Isn't she gorgeous?!

It was both Sicilia's family's first Pasta Party and my family's. We all were so impressed with how beautiful everything was, and how detailed. The DFMC Staff created such a lovely and warm reception out of a hotel hallway and banquet hall - no easy feat.

When you first walked in, you saw the huge span of balloons shown in the picture at the very start of this post. Then the check-in desk. But not just any ID badges. Oh, no. The DFMC pediatric and runner badges were matching sets of sea-themed badges.

In the photo at left, you'll see Sicilia's and my badges ... we got to be jellyfish.

I like that. Jellyfish are cool; they go with the flow. And I still have my badge. I'm keeping it.

Following that, posters of all of our pediatric partners, lit up with decoration and bright colors.

In addition to the posters stood a column which held this box of origami swans, each handcrafted by members of a local elementary school class. Each DFMC runner was invited to choose one to take for good luck.










Just beyond was a huge open area with crayons, markers, posterboard and decorative items so that any of the children who wanted to could create posters for race day.

Inside, the banquet hall seemed to be about 2 football fields deep. We were seated with Sicilia's family, so it was great that we got to visit throughout the afternoon and that Sicilia, Sam and Gus got a chance to meet. Like I said, our guys were so freaked out by the sheer size of everything that they weren't too social, but apparently they were social enough for Sicilia to confide in me that Sam was cute, LOL. She's one of the funniest and sweetest little girls I've had the pleasure of knowing. Sam should be so lucky as to one day woo her!

One of my childhood - and still - idols, Bill Rodgers, made a surprise guest appearance, and I had the pleasure of speaking with him briefly before he had to depart. I was beyond thrilled. I've seen him start out in Hopkinton, tracked him on television, watched him win, and win, and win, and win, and seen him collect his medals. To be able to say hello and tell him how much I admire him was a hoot.














There were two portions of the afternoon that were most special. The first was in honor and memory of all of the pediatric partners who, sadly, did not win their battles against cancer. We saw a slide presentation of each of them, and the children all looked so vivid and jubilant in their photos it was difficult to believe they were not still here. It was a poignant reminder of why we were gathered, and I hoped as I watched it that in the years to come in my partnership with Dana-Farber that I would be able to see this presentation getting shorter and shorter, with more of the children in the awards ceremony, as it should be.

The second extra-special portion of the afternoon was the medal presentations.














Uta Pippig, who has been involved with the DFMC for well over a decade now, spoke to the room and then invited each of the pediatric partners and their runners, one by one, to join her on stage.













There, we had the pleasure of awarding our PP's their own medal of achievement.
















Sicilia strode up on stage without a care in the world that her mother and father were remaining back at the table. Once there, she proceeded to wave to everyone, call out to her family, cheer on the other patient partners, and in general hold the room in the palm of her hand. She collected more than a few smiles, laughs, and rounds of applause, and I was and remain so thrilled to be able to run on her behalf.
















It was a great kickoff, and we headed home spent and ready for tomorrow to be here. When the boys went to bed at 8, so did I. And since this post is becoming Tolstoyian in length but, sadly, not in caliber, I'm going to end it here.

But not without a great update on Sicilia: She's just made it through a full cycle of Chemotherapy! That's huge, especially for pediatric leukemia, where the chemo treatment runs a full two years. Congrats, Sicilia! XOXO! As her dad wrote, "Sicilia is doing well, Spring is here, life is good!"

Next post: "4/20/09. Reclamation."