During a few of my elementary school days, my parents would send my sister and I back to Japan for the summer. We were too young to really appreciate it back then, but now I look back with fond memories. My great-grandfather was still alive at the time, he was the mastermind behind the success of the family. He was a brilliant businessman, and although he was quite old and could barely walk at the time, he would talk on and on about things that I barely understood. He lived upstairs and I only saw him when I went to go take him food at lunch and dinner. As most children I was a little scared, he was old, and he smelled like old people do. I went out of obligation rather than love, although I felt love because we were related, but not out of a closeness I could identify as a grade school child.
I remember some of the things he used to tell me - he couldn’t understand cereal, to him it was like senbei but it got soft in milk (although putting that in milk didn’t make sense to him either) and how he always wanted to go to America (that’s what the Japanese call the US, America). He said that he would have come to America to give his try at the land of opportunity. He said that he would have come to America to run, to run a marathon. He laughed, since he could barely walk, but somehow even at that age I thought that a marathon represented something more - the freedom, the choice, the attempt to push yourself to achieve something you never thought you could have achieved before.
I saw that happen at the LA Marathon and more. A man who was running on crutches because he only had one leg. A man who had a heart attack (and unfortunately later died), a woman who was so exhausted at mile 23 that she could barely run straight, and many more countless stories that passed me silently on the course with over 25,200 people. For those of you who don’t know, I ran my first 5K last May, and officially started training for the LAM in August. If I can do it, anyone can. Here’s a timeline of events:
Fri night: Eat pasta with friends. Carboload? Sure, why the hell not. Get to bed early.
Sat lunch: Pick up T from the airport. Drag his Shanghai-jetlagged butt to lunch at Souplantation.
Sat Dinner: Continue to drag T to the Omni Hotel, and carboload dinner with the LA Leggers. I was a little dissapointed because I had booked the Omni through their website and not with the Leggers and was thus told that the latest checkout time was 1 PM. I knew there was no way I would finish running the marathon before then. The Carboload dinner was fun because it was with the crew, but the price was outrageous for a pasta buffet and they automatically included a huge service charge on top of the listed price.
Sat Night: Tried to sleep, didn’t work, knitted. Laid out clothes.
Sun Morning: Went down to the ballroom at 6:30 AM. Went to the bathroom 3 times due to nerves. 7:15 AM walked out to the start line.
Start Line: Could barely hear what was going on until the crowd surged forward. It was hard to stay with the group due to flying debris (people throwing their clothes off and stuff on the ground), ran straight for 3 miles.
Mile 4: started our run 7 min, walk 1 min routine. The group was still together.
Mile 8: my muscles started to tighten up…
Mile 11.5: fell back from group and ran 6 min, walk 1 min routine.
Mile 15: ran with Terry, another guy from our group. We were running at about a 11 min mile pace.
Mile 16: this was about Curson Ave… there was a group handing out beer. The smell of it was making me sick. A man dressed as Marilyn Monroe passes me, blowing kisses.
Mile 18: was running with this other lady from our group. She was quite emotional at this point. I believe we were on Wilshire by the LACMA at this point - there was a lady giving free lapdances to runners.
Mile 20: I was running by myself, and it hurt to walk. My lower back was starting to hurt too. I started to do a “shuffle-run”. A man dressed as Santa Claus was on the street yelling ‘I’m not really here, I’m just part of your hallucination”
Mile 22: Leggers station, they were all cheering me on. Must continue. I had a classmate call me and ask why I was so out of breath. She was obviously one who forgot what I was up to this weekend.
Mile 23: started cursing to self about even thinking about running this damned event. started cursing that I signed up for another one in October. Kept shuffle-running. It hurt too much to walk. I had only run a max 20 miles during the training due to my knee injury in Nov/Dec. Was running through familiar ground on Olympic Blvd through K-Town. Saw my favorite Sundabul restaurant (SooKongDong), my favorite KBBQ place (ShikDoRa), and then the man that had the heart attack.
Mile 24: I’m getting close…..I can’t tell if I’m hot or cold. I’m amazed that I can continue my shuffle-run.
Mile 25-26: What an amazing end…thousands of people lining the street and the finish line. 5 hr 35 min. Received my medal. They gave me this big, soft, oversized aluminum thing to keep me warm. Called to find T but am totally confused by his directions. I kept walking forward. Eventually found him. Couldn’t walk up Flower street. He pushes me up the street. Eventually reached hotel.
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LA for the most part can be known as an unfriendly place - street fights, you pass people on the street without saying “hello”… but what a turnout. The amount of support in regards to water stations, people with candy, orange slices, water hoses, beer, music, banging on pots and pans was unbelievable. Running was tough, but volunteering is just as tough….. so my gratitude to all those unknown people who yelled out “GO SHIZ GO”
Y mentions a quote which captures a marathon beautifully, “the first 10 miles is run with your legs, the next 10 miles with your head and the last 6 with your heart”. Perhaps this is what my great grandfather meant - by his age he was living with his heart - but somewhere I felt like I was able to accomplish a little something in his memory.
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