If You Want to Make God Laugh, Tell Him Your Plans

I’ve put off writing this final entry because honestly, I didn’t know what to say or what exactly I was feeling. I still don’t really know. When I got on the plane to New York, I was not in any way excited about the race. Part of it was Sandy and part of it had to do with other reasons that I won’t get into. But I was going to run, and I was going to run well. That was the commitment that I made. After a long day of travel, I was walking into my hotel in Midtown when my phone exploded with texts from people telling me the news. The feeling was surreal, as if I should have seen this coming all along. All I could do was let out an exasperated laugh and shake my head. Was the Mayor’s office really this incompetent? Did I really just waste 4 months of hard work and sacrifice? Apparently so.  

I should be clear. I have no problem with the cancellation of the race. I felt horrible about running through the devastation when so many people were dealing with so much worse. But it was a decision that should have been made days prior, not after people had flown in from all over the globe.

After I dropped my bags in my room, I immediately went to the hotel bar and proceeded to get drunk. Really drunk. And I stayed drunk for longer than I should have. Yes, I pouted and I was upset. I still don’t know why I was so upset when all of the excitement of the weekend had already been stripped away days earlier. Maybe it was because this was a weekend that I had been dreaming of since May, and while I was sitting at that bar, I realized that I was alone and that it had all crumbled around me.

As the dust has settled however, one overwhelmingly positive thing has occurred to me. That is the realization that I have been surrounded by some extraordinary people throughout all of the phases of my life. The generosity, the support and the words of encouragement have been humbling and mean more to me than you will ever know. I feel lucky to have all of you in my life. So despite the fact that right now I hate running and I hate the New York City Marathon, I will run in 2013. As much as I’m dreading it, I will start over and put in another grueling 4 months of training next summer. I will be running because all of you believed in me and most importantly, because I made a commitment to Mom. I won’t let her down.

Talk to you all next summer.

Race Week

Make her proud, chubby little blonde kid

The race is Sunday (Sandy permitting), and the one thing that has consumed my life since May will come to an end. The training has gone better than I could have ever expected. I’ve worked my ass off but feel absolutely great. There’s no excuse for not hitting my time goal. This race is something I’ve dreamed about for years. Within days it will become very real, and I already have the butterflies to prove it. The marathon is a strange beast. You train and sacrifice and plan your life down to the smallest detail for 4 months just so you can perform well on that one day. And even on that one day, you still don’t know if all of the hard work paid off until you’re 22 miles into the race. That’s a lot of pressure but man, is it exciting.

There are so many things that I’m anticipating: My excitement at the start, the scope and grandeur of the course and how I fare in those final, horrible miles. But more than anything, I’m anticipating meeting my fellow runners, experiencing the crowds and feeling that overall sense of goodness that everyone who describes this race talks about. I read somewhere that if you begin to lose your faith in people, go be part of a marathon. I want to see that firsthand.

I’ll be making this trip with a twinge of sadness however. I guess on a journey like this, losing something along the way was strangely appropriate. Still, I will be at that starting line. I will focus, and I will run well. The day may not go quite how I imagined, but life rarely does. We adapt, press forward and keep running. Last week, I woke up for an early run before work. Outside it was pitch black and pouring rain. I sucked it up, grabbed my reluctant four-legged running partner and stepped out my door and into the rain. Within 15 minutes, the rain had stopped, the sky cleared and I saw something that I had never seen before. Two brilliant shooting stars streaked across the sky side by side for longer than I thought possible. A miserable start had turned into a terrific memory. A metaphor for life, I suppose.

If you’re at all interested in tracking me as I race on Sunday, the link is below. I start at 9:40 am, Eastern, and my bib number is 7553. ESPN2 will also be broadcasting the race, but I’ve been told that I will not be prominently featured on this broadcast. Wish me luck, everyone. I’ll let you know next week how it all went down.

http://www.nycmarathon.org/entrantinfo/trackmyrunner.htm

Mock Marathon

I've read countless articles and blogs that describe the NYC Marathon. I know the course. I know when to expect hills, and I've been told that that vibe is electric from start to finish. Still, I have no idea what I'm in for. Running through the Five Burroughs with 45,000 people and 1 million spectators is not something that can be experienced online, but that hasn't stopped me from imaging the race in my head a million times. So here is what I think might happen on Sunday, November 4:

4:30 a.m. - I wake up after a fitful night of sleep filled with alarm clock panic. You know, that feeling where you wake up every hour or so, worried that you slept through the alarm only to realize that wake up time is still hours away.

5 a.m. - I begin my walk down the quiet streets of Manhattan on my way to the shuttle bus that will take me to the starting area. Will there be anyone on the streets besides runners and crazy people? Or are those one and the same? I don't know if I'll be nervous, focused or excited. Probably all of these. 

6:30 a.m. - Arrive at the starting area on Staten Island. Time to settle in on a nice patch of wet grass for a couple of hours and try to stay warm. The people watching should be fun. I just hope that I can keep my nerves under control.

9:40 a.m. - After standing in the starting corral with the rest of the cattle for an hour, it's just about time to start. The national anthem plays, a cannon fires, the speakers belt out Sinatra's "New York, New York" and the sea of humanity is off. I will be full of adrenaline, but I MUST start slowly. The massive crowd should help keep me in check, but if I think that the pace is too slow, then I know I'm doing it right.

Mile 2 (The next few hours of my life will be measured only in miles.) - I imagine my thought process will be something like this: "There's the Manhattan skyline, and this is really happening. All of my work has led me here. Time to find out if I did enough."

Mile 4 - Hopefully, I'll be running well and keeping a steady pace. These are the miles where my mind tunes out and the running should be effortless.

Mile 8 -  "There certainly is a lot of commotion. Screaming crowds, cow bells, bands, choirs, funny signs. This is really fun. I love Brooklyn and all of its quirky neighborhoods."

Mile 13.1 - Technically this is the halfway point, but the pain and the struggles have not even begun. The first half is almost like a prologue to the real thing. I will get a good gauge on my pace and how I'm feeling, but anything can happen in the next 13 miles.

Mile 16 - Welcome to Manhattan! Coming down First Avenue will be as close as I ever get to my own personal ticker-tape parade. The crowds should be exhilarating. Again, keep the adrenaline in check.

Mile 18 - The miles are becoming a blur. Thankfully I catch a glimpse of friends and family. It'll be good to see their faces after miles on the road. I wonder who's having more fun, them or me. See you guys in a few miles.

Mile 19 -Supposedly when you're running long distances, most of your blood goes to the muscles meaning less blood goes to the brain. "I don't think that's true. Hey, wasn't there a Muppet that was purple? Yeah, it was Fozzy. No wait, Fozzy was a bear. Fonzo? Or was it Fonzie? Yeah, Fonzie the cool purple Muppet. Fonzie rode a unicycle. Oh, Fonzie."

Mile 20 - The Bronx and the Wall. As far as pain goes, this is the halfway point of a marathon and where the fight really begins. For most runners, their muscles can hold enough carbohydrates to sustain them for about 20 miles. After all of that energy is spent, the body begins to burn fat in a much less efficient manner. In a matter of minutes, the body basically goes from a Porsche on the Autobahn to a Winnebago going up a mountain. This is the Wall, and it's hell. If I've trained properly, I can fight through this and maybe even push it back a few miles.

Mile 23 - I should see my cheering section again in Central Park. At this point, I will desperately need their motivation and not generic motivation like "You're doing great. You're almost there." I need motivation like Rocky got in his corner before going out for Round 12 against Ivan Drago. Yes, it all comes back to Rocky IV.

Mile 25 - 1.2 miles to go, and the pain is intense and unavoidable. No matter how well I've trained or if I'm having my best day, it will be torture. My feet will feel broken, my legs shredded, my back in knots and my insides and head in turmoil. This is when I think of everyone who got me to this point and gave me their love and support. But mainly I'll think about Mom. She's the reason I'm here, and I need to make her proud. She endured pain that I can't imagine for years. At the very least, I can endure this pain for her for a few more minutes.

Finish - Done! I should be too exhausted to do anything jubilant. I'll probably do a weak fist pump then stumble around trying to catch my breath while the pain subsides. Even if I'm too tired to show excitement, I expect to be the happiest guy in New York, especially if I hit my goal time.

Finish +30 minutes - Time to reunite with the crew and hopefully celebrate.
Now how long do I need to rehydrate before I can down a beer?

Reminder: If you haven't had a chance to donate to The Pink Agenda yet and would like to, here is a link to my fundraising website.
http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/ryanbush/ryanbushsfundraisingpageforthenycmarathon

FAQs

At this point in the training, running has become my life. I'm either recovering from my latest run, preparing for my next run or actually in the act. People have been very kind in feigning showing interest and asking me questions about the only thing I seem to have time for. Here are some of those frequently (and I use that term loosely) asked questions:

Q: How's the training going?
A: It's going surprisingly well. I've only had one or two bad runs where I really struggled. Otherwise, I feel good and am hopeful for a strong race. I am pretty beat up though. I expected to have a few bumps and bruises at this stage of the training, so it's not worrisome. My body is ready for some rest.

Q: Are you tired of running yet?
A: Generally, no. There are some days where I really don't want to put in the miles. This mainly happens on long runs before work. But for the most part, I'm really enjoying the process and putting in the work.

Q: Do you have a certain time goal for the marathon?
A: I do, but I am not sharing this with anyone. I will say that I have to run the race of my life and have a bit of good luck to achieve this goal.

Q: Why won't you tell anyone what your goal is?
A: It's hard to explain. Part of it is superstition. Part of it is that I don't want that information out there as a disappointment in case I don't make it. And part of it is that I want to rely only on myself to achieve this. But mainly I'm just being weird.

Q: What do you think about Paul Ryan lying about his marathon time?
A: I'm not up in arms about it. Still it's pretty sorry for someone to claim an honor that they didn't earn, and breaking 3 hours is most certainly an honor for runners. Most people (myself included) work for months and push their bodies to the absolute limit without even coming close to running a marathon in under 3 hours. (ASIDE: This answer was not given as any type of political statement whatsoever.)

Q: Have you lost a lot of weight?
A: I don't know because I haven't weighed myself. If I'm eating well and running well, that's all that I care about. It's possible that I've actually put on some weight.

Q: Does your dog run with you?
A: He usually does a few miles with me. His limit is about 5 miles though, so I'll drag him along for a while then drop him off at home while I keep running.

Q: Are you getting excited about going to New York?
A: I don't know that I've ever been more excited about anything. It should be a once in a lifetime experience, and I can't wait to see the city in a way that few people do. If everything goes well, it will be a fantastic weekend in a fantastic city.

My Mother, Jeanne Victoria Bush

I was only 4 when my mother died, so my memories of her are random, scattered and very few. I remember standing in the kitchen and showing her a pumpkin that I was very proud of, and I remember watching her put on makeup in the bathroom. I also remember my father telling me and my brother that she had died. All I have are random flashes like that. However, running this race and raising money for a charity that could have helped her has been one of the best decisions of my life. Not only I am doing something good to honor Mom and help women like her, but I feel closer to her. People are sharing their stories and memories, and she is in my thoughts more than ever. For this I am very grateful. I wish I had more to share, but I have very little to draw from. Luckily, I have some thoughts from people that knew her well. Here are some memories from my Aunt Sally:

"Your Mom was a very special person.  Before either of us were married and Vicki was teaching in Phoenix, she and I lived together and became very close…even though I was 4 years younger.  I stayed with her in Texas when she was going through a lot of her treatments.  I took care of you and Louis when Jimmy and Vicki would go to the hospital in Dallas.  Her only goal was to be sure you kids were taken care of when she was gone. I have never met anyone as brave as she was and with so much determination. She never wanted you kids to realize she was sick….I hope you know how much she loved you.  I know she is so proud of both of you.  I always felt bad that so many memories were not shared with you."

My brother Louis also shared some amazing thoughts and memories. Most of this I never knew, so it was a pretty special e-mail to read. Thanks, Lou:

"I'm sad that your memories of her are few, and while mine aren't as many as I would like, I'm grateful for them.  Seeing Angela with Cole and Hannah makes me realize the importance of a mother in a child's life, and at times I get angry that she was taken from us so early.  I wonder how different our lives would be if we would have had her a few years longer.

My memories are somewhat scattered...mostly images and feelings.  I do remember how she used to work at the Tom Thumb as a cashier and on one Halloween, someone dressed up as Spiderman. She took me to see him.  I remember her working as a teacher, and we would go to her class, fourth grade, I think.  All the kids seemed so big, but they loved her.  She had a class gerbil and during the holidays, she would bring him home and we'd get to play with him.  She also used to bring her classes to our house in Flower Mound.  Sometimes Dad would give them a class about horses and they'd each get a turn to ride.  She also had one of her co-workers, Steve Fogel, come out with his telescope and he would give astronomy classes.

I remember going on vacation to Joannie and Tim Ledbetter's in South Carolina.  We drove out there in that brown and white station wagon, swam in the lake, etc.  We also seemed to take a yearly trip to Arizona and see all the family.  I don't remember the details, but I just remember feeling comforted when she was around.  She loved horses and was always working them in the arena, grooming them, or putting you and I on top of one.  She had two horses, Leo and Sundance.  Leo was pretty cranky, but he was a beautiful sorrell gelding with a white face.  Sundance was a pretty roan mare who was as gentle as the breeze. She really loved those animals, and I think that was as much of her therapy as the chemo.

I remember when she brought you home from the hospital, and instantly called you "Bird Legs" because you were so skinny.  I remember her at the hospital with you when you were 18 months or so...you had the crup and they put you in an oxygen tent.  And mom kept asking the doctors if they had the right diagnosis because you kept running down the halls, apparently feeling pretty good.

Did you know that Dad and Leon were going to get her some medicinal marijuana, and had arranged to buy some from a worker at the Phillips Ranch?  Leon told me they were supposed to pick it up from the mailbox at the ranch, but chickened out at the last minute because they were afraid the DEA knew about it and would arrest them. [ASIDE: This story cracks me up. I doubt that 2 cowboys buying pot were ever on the DEA's radar.]

I remember going to see her in the hospital after her first mastectomy.  She kept telling me not to worry, that she would beat cancer. I had no idea what she was talking about and she explained what a tumor was, and how the doctors removed one from her...I think that was the first time I heard "cancer".  She always maintained a positive attitude, and never stopped fighting.  She was very involved at the Methodist Church in Lewisville, and was adamant about you and I going to Sunday school.  I'm glad she was.  She was always reading her bible and highlighting passages.  Connie told me once that mom never quit. But that science and treatment hadn't caught up to her spirit to live. She said if mom had gotten cancer 10 years later, she would have won.

Unfortunately, my strongest memories are the worst.  Towards the end of her life, we went to MD Anderson in Houston. You and I ran around the park in front of the hospital, unaware of what was going on. Aunt Sally or Grandma Audrey was there with us, and at one point, you and I went to mom's hospital room to see her.  She was in really bad shape, and could barely speak.  Dad, Grandma, and Aunt Sally walked us into the room and she hugged us and just held on.  She smelled like medicine, and I remember thinking she was really sick, but had no idea that would be the last time we would see her.  We stayed for a few minutes and she asked about school and told us how proud she was of us.  Then she told us to be good boys for dad, that she loved us more than anything, and she would always be with us.  You and I cried, but I think we cried because everyone else was. [I'd give anything to remember this moment.] 

I don't remember much after leaving that room.  Shortly after, you and I spent the night at Billy and Carol's, and the next morning, they took us to Nanny's house.  It was a cold and gray Sunday morning, and Dad was there which I thought was strange because he was supposed to be in Houston. But I think I knew what happened when we saw him.  He sat us down on his lap, and told us "last night, Mom went to heaven."  

I don't remember the funeral, but I think it was in the Methodist Church.  When we came home after the service, we had a house full of friends and family, all of whom brought something for us to eat. Aunt Sally stayed with us for a couple of weeks, but at some point everyone else went on with their lives, and it was us. There was a distinct absence in the house and I think Dad spent the rest of his life trying to fill that hole.

She passed on a lot of things to you and I, a fighter's spirit, a commitment to an education, and a strong work ethic."

Everyone who speaks of my mother does so with an incredible amount of affection and a deep sense of admiration. She was kind, brilliant and courageous, and 30 years later, she is still dearly missed by those who knew her. I've missed having her in my life. If you've yet to contribute to The Pink Agenda, please take a few minutes and help however you can. You would be honoring a remarkable woman and her fight against breast cancer. 

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/ryanbush/ryanbushsfundraisingpageforthenycmarathon 

Nutrition Is Killing Me

I'm making this way harder on myself than I should. Not only am I running an ungodly amount of miles over the course of a few months, but I'm doing this as a vegetarian. According to the people who are supposedly knowledgeable in such things, I should be consuming 75-80 grams of protein every day while training. (This is in addition to the insane amount of carbs required for long runs. My stomach is way too full after dinner.) Even if I ate a steak every night for dinner, I still would have a hard time getting to 75 grams of protein. Yet I've chosen to completely cut out of my diet the easiest, most readily accessible form of protein on the planet. To make things even more difficult, I am about the most useless person to ever set foot in a kitchen. Seriously, I even suck at chopping vegetables. The last time I was in training, I had to eat fish for a few weeks because I was so run down from a lack of protein. So far things are much better this time. 

So how are things different in 2012? Well, I'm routinely eating protein bars and drinking Gatorade with protein. Whey protein powder is a big player, and I liberally add it to cereal and smoothies. PBJ is a staple and quite possibly the greatest sandwich ever invented. I don't think I'd want to live in a world without PBJ. Most importantly though, my lady-friend has made me slightly less useless in the kitchen. I can now make risotto, stir fry and even reuben sandwiches, all with meat substitutes. It's been fairly painless, and I'm well fueled for all those miles. I may even experiment and try some new dishes on my own. That's more than you probably wanted to know about grams of protein or my nutritional habits, but hey, I'm running out of ideas.

Training Update:  These are the dog days. The miles are really piling up, and the race is far enough away that it's hard to find much excitement in the running. This is when it helps to remember why I'm doing this and how many people are behind me. Still, I'm running well and healthy (knock on wood) which is all that matters. The air has been gross and smoky lately from wildfires in the area, but thankfully I haven't felt it in my lungs. It can't be helping though. I have my first 20 mile run on Sunday. I fear being in my own head for that long and may have to drag the dog along for a few miles. It's high time he earned his keep.

Generic Update / Thanks

It's been over a month since I started training and so far so good. I'm running well and am healthy (knock on wood). My sore foot from earlier in the summer has subsided, so I actually feel better than when I started. The weeks are getting progressively harder though. I will run 45 miles this week including a long run of 16 miles on Sunday. I'm at the point now in my long runs where I have to consume disgusting energy gels and Gatorade while running. This is partly for energy and hydration, but at this stage I'm mainly trying to prep my overly sensitive stomach for digesting sugars while on a long run. I'll have to do this during the race, and I need to slowly get used to it.


So that's where my training stands. While I'm at it, I want to thank some really great people who for better or worse helped me with this crazy notion of mine. First up is my old law school pal Lauren who showed me that running for a selfless reason was not only a good idea but an enjoyable experience. I was proud to help her cause last year, and this never would have happened without me following her example. Second, my lovely girlfriend Colleen who convinced me that I could and should run this race and that I should put my faith in the generosity of friends and family. Colleen has supported and inspired me from the beginning and has endured me constantly talking about my training with nothing but a smile and genuine interest. Last but not least is my good buddy Triston who donated his credit card points to give me 3 nights at a hotel in Manhattan. This is beyond cool and saved me a lot of money. Despite his sarcastic exterior, Triston is a pretty generous dude. Also, I've been floored by the support of generosity of everyone who has donated. I still have 3 months to go, and the outpouring thus far is humbling. So those are the "Acknowledgements" of some pretty great folks. Please spread the word on my fundraising efforts and let people know that if they donate, they too may be mentioned on a blog that is read by literally tens of people.