My Emptynest 2010: December 2013

The Boots & Duke photo game my running buddies and I had last week has ruffled some feathers. I guess my photo was a little too provocative for some people's taste, especially my younger sister.

The purpose of the photo was to celebrate some of my running buddies being able to wear Daisy Dukes shorts if they wanted too. My way of celebrating their successes...you can still be sexy in your 50s and wear dukes if you want too.

My legs were suppose to be the focus of the photo. I didn't realize nor did I expect everyone to focus on my crotch area. But they did, especially women. Now, all my running buddies focused on my legs and the fact at age 51, I'm still holding my own. In my eyes, my legs were the most and only uncover part in the photo. I didn't notice my crotch until I started getting text messsges.

My guy rolled my shorts so more of my legs could be exposed. He took the photo and approved it for posting. I had to brace my legs on the bumper to prevent me from falling on the ground, since I kept slipping off the car. Hence, the propped up leg. In his words, I'm really proud of you and your running friends for taking these photos, more women should embrace their health like you ladies.

Do I regret taking the photo, not one bit. What I do regret is how some people tried to take a fun moment and turn it into something other than what is was, a celebration of hard work of toning my legs. The text messages my sister sent really hurt my daughter's feelings and angered my guy. It made me feel like she really doesn't like me. Not a good feeling, since I always brag about her abilities, achievements and/or accomplishments. Like her being able to be among a group of black women that can run a race in a sports bra.

So to prevent any further hurt to my daughter and anger to my guy, I blocked the photo from view. Because the fact of the matter, I love me and my body. I have worked hard to tone it and be physically fit to participate in my running events. So anyone that really knows me or cares about me or loves me would know that "slut" should never be used in any description of me. Sexy, yes, but never slut or any other derogatory name.

What happened was, I went to San Antonio as a Halfathoner, came home a Marathoner. How did this change occur? Let me explain. I signed up at the last moment, before the fee increase, for the San Antonio Rock N Roll Half Marathon. It was late night on October 13, after some serious studying, so I could get the discount of $13. I reserved the room at the Marriott through Groupon, another great discount 70% off the room.

It was my birthday weekend and I chose to participate in a running event as a way to bring in another year of life. Everything would be dated November 17, 2013, my 51^st year of life. Me and my running buddy Brenda left the Dallas area sometime after 6:30 pm. The traffic in Dallas was horrible, so it took us awhile to maneuver around it. My daughter NeNe kept calling because she wanted us to stop in San Marcos to have dinner with her. I didn’t want to stop because I was already tired from a long week of work. We made it to the hotel after 11 pm. After watching Scandal, I was fast asleep. Brenda had fallen asleep as soon as she laid down.

The next morning we got up to head to the RNR Expo at the Alamodome. The place was surrounded by stairs. We had to walk up the stairs to get the building and down the stairs to get to the Expo. I forgot to print out my bib info, so I had to search the board for my bib number. To my surprise my bib number was 1162, my month and year of birth. This had to mean something special. While taking photos of my bib number, I noticed my bib was blue and Brenda’s was red. We figured it was because I registered before her. Then Brenda saw it, I had registered for the marathon, not the half marathon. She burst out laughing. I immediately headed to the change race table. I was told all I had to do was stand in the corral of the time I thought I would finish the half. To be funny, I posted the photo with me and my bib number on Facebook to notice who would realize I had signed up for the full. Of course my running buddy Keisha “Run It Dirty” noticed it immediately. Soon everyone else noticed it and started encouraging me to go ahead and run the full. Not happening I told myself, I’ll wait until December 8, the Dallas Marathon, like I had planned. Throughout the day, the idea of running the full kept going through my head. How cool would it be for me to complete my first marathon on my 51^st birthday?

Sunday, November 17, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!! We headed to the Alamodome. Brenda and I walked around taking pictures before the race began. When daylight hit, we headed to Corral 24. My other running buddies showed up and more comments were made about me completing the marathon. No one knew I had been debating in my head, since I woke up, whether or not to complete the full or half. While standing waiting for the start, I began talking to this older woman about my plans to run a marathon in December and the farthest distance I had trained, 23 miles. She said honey go ahead and do the full, you’ve trained, you can do it.

The race started, the “I can do it voice” got louder and louder. By mile 3, I told Brenda I was going to go ahead and do the full. It was really humid to me, but I wasn’t too hot. Brenda was hot and sweating a lot. Between mile 5 and 6, Brenda had me slow down to reserve my energy to be able to complete the full. We were running 3:1 intervals, 12-12:30 minute miles. After mile 10, Brenda and I parted ways because she had to take a potty break. As I came around this curve, there it was, the half and full split. If I went left, I would finish the half. If I went right, I would begin my journey to become a marathon finisher. I grabbed a cool sponge and started debating in my head, do I or don’t I. I kept going right. I told myself, there’s no turning back now. There were not that many runners making that right turn when I did. There were plenty coming back to finish.

Mile 15, I was still feeling good, I can do this, easy breezy. Mile 16, there was no shade and I was getting hot. Mile 17, I thought to myself, did I make the right decision. I did something I never do, I started drinking the water and Gatorade at the water stations, at every station. Mile 18, I said this is some b&llsh@t, what the f%ck was I thinking.

Mile 19 (more unholy language), my body was beginning to ache, legs muscles were cramping. I could only walk, no more running for me. I had run out of my own water, which made it seem like the water stations were further apart.

Mile 20 and 21 (more unholy language), some lady started asking me questions, I was too irritated to respond politely, but I made every effort.

Mile 22 (more unholy language), I was in a lot of pain, from my shoulders to the soles of my feet. I was hurting so bad, I couldn’t answer my phone or read the text messages I was receiving, my fingers and hands hurt.

Mile 23, the tears began to flow and I was balling like a big baby…a walking sweaty baby. Then this guy dressed in military fatigues, came up to me and said you just have 3 miles to go, I know you are tired, but you are almost there, don’t give up. More tears and snotting. Then I started asking God what did I do to deserve this much pain, this is worse than child birth. I asked Him if there was anything left in me that was unpleasant and He wanted removed. More tears and snotting.

Mile 24, I ripped my water belt off because it was causing me too much pain. It felt like it was stabbing me. This lady stopped to check on me and gave me some Peanut Butter Gu, a Cliff Bar and some of her water. Then some Hispanic guy, who was waiting on someone, stopped me and said here take this water and he offered me some energy supplements.

Mile 25, some guy ran passed me and said come on sexy, we almost there, you’ve been doing good this far so don’t give up. I made an effort to answer my phone because I needed some help, motivation to finish. It was NeNe and she was fussing, why haven’t you answered you phone, where are you. I hang up, I didn’t need the negative vibe. I looked through my missed call log to find Brenda’s number, the call went straight to voice mail which meant her battery was dead. I looked through the call log again, a missed call from Cindy. She informed me that Brenda had passed out and was rushed to the hospital. I was still crying and giving her my symptoms, she said go to the first medic station, something is wrong. But I didn’t, I was too close to the finish line. Then Brenda called me and said stop and go to the first aid station you see, you don’t have to finish this race, it was totally unplanned.

Almost to mile 26, someone else ran passed me and said come on sexy. I thought to myself, if one more person calls me sexy, I will punch them in their mouth. Next, this motorcycle cop came by and said, see the stop light ahead, that’s the finish line, don’t quit. That was the longest 1.2 miles. Then it happened, this lady came up behind me and said come on sexy, you’re almost there, you are the true example of sexiness, the epitome of what sexiness is. I balled my fist up but she was too far out of reach and my body hurt too much for me to chase her down. I only had .2 miles to go, I was in extreme pain, something was definitely wrong. I did it, I crossed the finish line 5:45:24 later, I was a marathon finisher. I put my medal on and walked over to the medic tent. I told the nurse something is wrong, I’m in too much pain, my back really hurts. She said okay, let’s go inside. I stepped to the left and collapsed. I didn’t blackout completely, I was aware of my surrounding and could answer all their questions, I just didn’t have any energy. The medic said I was suffering from heat exhaustion and dehydration. On November 17, 1962, I entered this world. On November 17, 2013, I entered the world of a marathon finisher.