Yesterday was day 1 for my 5k training. (Day 1: rest, (or walk/run.)) Having my first day be a “rest” day wasn’t really amping me up for running a 5K.

Luckily, it was also the day of the LA Marathon, which my friends G and S ran in.

As my car was out of commission yesterday, I came up with a plan to cheer on friends at mile 11 and make it to the finish line in time to root them during their final stretch. With promises of a comfy couch, and coffee, I lured S’s brother R over at 6:00 am after dropping S at the marathon’s starting point. At about 8:30 I shuffled out of bed, opened my computer to the LA Marathon page, and realized that a) it was monsooning out and b) the website was down. So we decided to head up to mile 11 to cheer them on around 9:00, figuring we’d just about be on time.

Coffee and umbrellas in hand, we headed to the race. Turning the first corner of my street, I realized the race was a lot closer to home than I thought. There, on Sunset Boulevard, were dozens of people cheering on the runners. It was so heartening to see these people screaming for people, most of whom they didn’t know, would never see again. We only waited about fifteen minutes before R’s brother was running by, and we were yelling and cheering. The rain poured on as we waited for G to whiz by. I texted MMC to see what G was wearing.

“Now I feel like every guy in a blue tank is G…G!!!!! G!!!!!!!!!!” And there he was, not fifteen minutes behind S.

After high-fiving G, we headed back to the house for a little more coffee, and headed to Culver City to get Cor and move our party to the finish line. The rain was really coming down as we headed towards the ocean, and the wind was gradually picking up. Galoshes on, Cor in tow, we found our way to Santa Monica and all but pushed our way to the front of the marathon barriers.

By this point, R, Cor, and I were soaked. Umbrellas were no longer a help. The wind blowing, spitting salty rain into our faces, we kept our eyes on the runners.

“What’s he wearing?” Cor asked.
“Gray. And gray,” I replied, looking at every runner…
But there he was, running towards us!
“S!! S!! HEY S! HEY S!” we yelled. Head didn’t turn, but we saw him smile, figured he heard us.

The next hour was what really made the day. Rain, alternating between hard, harder, and THIS IS A HURRICANE, streaked down our faces. Our clothes were pasted to us, umbrellas lay useless at our sides. My hood shielded my eyes barely, and the taste of the ocean was on our lips. This, my friends, was rain. “THIS IS WORSE THAN FORKS!” Cor and I agreed. (In Forks, we hiked three miles, in the sleet. On a mountain, through the woods. This, this was worse.)

And so, to pass the time, Cor, R, and I took to screaming for people who were running. “YEA JOEY, GO JOEY, JOEY YOU’RE AWESOME, FINISH STRONG.” At first, people around us thought I knew a lot of people. Finally they realized I was just reading names off people’s bibs. “YEA BECKY, YOU ROCK!” I yelled. For an hour, we cheered and cheered and cheered. And then cheered some more. And still, cheered. I must have told five Jeffs, a dozen Johns, and several C(K)hristina’s to “pick it up, YOU’RE SO CLOSE, LET’S GO.”

Some people were genuinely thankful for our screaming, whereas some people were genuinely surprised someone knew their name. Either way, that hour was one of the most rewarding hours I’ve spent in a long time.

After we saw G run by (with a sprained ankle and he STILL finished!) we headed to find S, shivering, tired, but content. We headed back to R and Cor’s place, warmed up, and congratulated S on his job well done.

So what does this long, drawn out story have to do with my 5k? Besides the obvious inspiration drawn from S and G (if they can run a marathon then why can’t I run a 5k?) I felt inspired by the fans. Here were hundreds of people, cheering on thousands more, some people they knew, some they didn’t. Saying, you go, here you are, you’ve done it, you’ve finished it, you ROCK. Feeling the energy and support in the crowd made me realized that yea, I can do it. I can run this 5k. This is my moment.

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Today, day 2 of my training, I had to run 1.5 miles. This was further than I have ever consciously run at a time. And I hadn’t run in a few weeks, because work has been crazy. Liz and I headed to the gym together, and I kind of psyched myself out while waiting for the treadmill. After 1.5 miles on the recumbent bike, I was warmed up. I stretched, made a new playlist, hopped on.

20 minutes and 2 seconds later, I was done. I had stopped a few time to walk, but knew that I wouldn’t make my goal of a 13 minute mile if I walked any more. 13:00 came and I had gotten to 1 mile, and then spent the rest of the time trying to keep pace. I (almost) succeeded, and then spent 5 minutes cooling down.

After weight training and a heart to heart while strengthening my shoulders, I headed to my car and drove home. Taking my shoes off, I noticed two shiny, new blisters rising from the bottom of my feet.

Next step? Figuring out how to run my 1.5 miles on Wednesday with blistered feet.

Advice is always welcome.