What happened in Arizona

Arizona had no idea what would hit it Friday night. Nell, Peggy and I wanted to make it to the Buffalo Chip Saloon in Cave Creek, AZ, to catch the bull riding before it ended at 11pm. Yes. Bull riding. At a bar. And not the mechanical kind. They've got living, fire-breathing bulls that want to get drunk and semi-pro people off their backs pronto (wouldn't you?). This place is so cool.

So we bailed out of Big Bear as quickly as possible, barreling down I-10 at Nell's regular rate of ludicrous speed. Somewhere outside of Blythe, the CHP lit us up. Damn. We all had shirts up to our collarbones. No cleavage was to be found anywhere in the truck. When Officer Moore went back to the cruiser with Nell's info, we started looking for bribes.

Everyone, especially CHP needs a cow watch.

He came back with the citation and Nell presented (a la Vanna White) the cow watch. Officer Moore said he might have considered it had we offered it before he wrote the citation. Too late. Ticket signed. Burnout throws dust onto cruiser. Heading east again...

And then it hit me.

We won't make it to Buffalo Chip in time for bull riding. Arizona is an hour ahead. Oh, the humanity!

I pouted and we tried to get Nell's buddy, Cindy, to turn in for the night and we'd see her on Saturday, but she was heartbroken that the girls' night out might be canceled.

So girls' night out was back on. We would be making a fashionably late entrance somewhere around midnight. Picked up Cindy, picked up Paul, and moseyed into the backlot of Buffalo Chip where staff was picking up from what was clearly a kickass good time merely an hour ago. Nell and I were going to be good. One beer will be fine. Paul had his usual Crown & Coke.

Paul took us next door to Harrold's where we decided one more beer would be OK. But somewhere mid-beer, I noticed Nell at the bar. A quick drink count revealed a couple of beers and a couple of C&Cs. No hard liquor for me, but Nell was having a great time and even got ahold of Paul's hat. (This isn't good....)

Never take a cowboy's hat from him...

We shut down the bar at 2 and headed back to Paul's where we met his and Christine's lovely new baby, who was up with mom for a feeding. Later, Peggy marveled at how well Christine handled Paul coming in from a late night at the bars with four girls. It was so late that Paul and Christine offered to let us all stay, rather than running Cindy back home to Phoenix, so it was out on the porch for us, where Paul comes out with more beer and C&C. (Oh no...)

Somewhere in the 4:00 hour, Nell and I retired to the living-quarters horse trailer, Cindy to the "cat house" and Peggy to the guest room.

I was awakened momentarily in the 5:00 hour to Nell saying something like:
"Guh-guh-gah-guy-have-gnever-been-s-s-s-so-fguh-ging-g-g-gcold-in-my-l-l-life... G-g-guy-gotta-go."

At 9:45am, I woke up...realized I didn't have my phone...or Nell.

So I stumbled out of the trailer, through the bright Arizona sun and into the house. Flung Peggy's door open: "Where's Nell!!?" Peggy flew into an upright position. "I don't know! You had her last!" It was like a scene out of the movie The Hangover, except there wasn't a tiger in the bathroom.

"We gotta go get my phone at Harrold's." I told Peggy. "Get dressed. You drive..."

I found Nell snuggled up to Cindy in the cat house. So Peg and I headed out to recover my phone in Cave Creek.

One entire Venti skinny Latte spilled in Tundra cupholders and my Uggs later...

Pretty much the rest of the day, Nell and I were beginning to realize that we should have stuck to the one beer rule. I wasn't feeling so hot, but Nell was pretty much wrecked.

We somehow managed to make it to the Expo before they closed to get our race packets...

Checking each others' breath for alcohol...?

And then we checked into the Phoenix Hilton to recover before Sunday morning's start line.

Great hotel, BTW.

Smorgasbord dinner at the Hilton. Showers. Gatorade, water, more Gatorade and water. And we slept...


Did anyone know it's dark at 7am in Arizona?

I called Travis while in a 30-minute line for a porta-potty.

"I'm going to do the full marathon. But I am going to take it easy."

"That's a good idea, kiddo. Your health is more important than a medal." He said in his crackly morning voice. He has a way of making me smile and cry at the same time....

I piled into corral 5...

And Nell was in corral 5 for the half marathon

Due to the light rail train, there was a delay in our start. My heart was pounding. I was anxious. 

Gratuitous self portrait of nervous me...

It's kinda like skydiving. You are pushed forward toward the inevitable. Except this time, instead of a gaping hole in a plane, you are pushed toward the start line with 4,000 other runners who all want to chase a Kenyan. I wondered at what point in this marathon will I think I should have joined Nell at the half.

The half marathon had cool PF Chang's dragon balloons...

I started my Garmin and leapt across the full marathon start line. The timing chip on my shoe activated and I was off.

My first mile was an easy 10:13 pace. That felt good (faster than San Francisco, slower than Vegas). Mile 2 was a 10:14. I was surrounded by runners in matching outfits...couples...a guy with a hiking pack and tap shoes (I almost took out my camera for him because I figured no one would believe me). And I saw a dead bird, almost skeletal, with wings spread smashed into the road.

Running up 7th Avenue, I checked in with myself. How do I feel about this? What's my breathing like? I haven't coughed (yet). Will I regret this? I've been sick a long time and I'm just barely better, this might be a bad idea. Jimmy Eat World came on my iPod. Never really listened to the lyrics but they worked for me around Mile 4.

Hey, don't write yourself off yet

It's only in your head you feel left out or looked down on.

Just try your best, try everything you can.

And don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away.

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.

Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be alright (alright)

What a great song for that moment. Another dead bird in the road. Pressing on past bands, bellydancers, cheerleaders and the great state of Arizona's spectators and their signs:

Never Never Never Give Up

Pain is temporary, but the glory of the finish lasts a lifetime

That's not sweat, it's your fat cells crying

I slowed at Mile 9, after seeing three more dead birds in the road. I pulled out my phone to check in with Nell and found these text messages in my inbox:

De'anna: use strategy today....5 miles at a time...go slower than you did in vegas. on purpose hold back and preserve energy. let all the yahoos run past you at the start line. you got this, suzanne. even if you feel like sh*t from friday, running is in your soul. you got this!

Peggy: u r amazing! you go girl!

Nell: i almost pooped my pants - lol

I love my friends...it's those moments when you need a push and they are there.

Camelback mountain near Scottsdale in the background

I pushed on. At around mile 15, the 4:45 pace group passed me. I had seen two more dead birds by this point. I began to wonder if it was an omen...
If I keep pushing this pace, will I end up a dead bird?

My legs began to tighten. I applied Perform pain relieving gel onto my legs which worked almost immediately to soothe the tightness. I could feel a blister, but as with marathons past, I don't break for blisters.

I slowed to a walk and called Travis. His sleepy voice answered.

"Hey baby, I am walking. I need to slow down. I had a decent first half, but I need to walk."

"That's OK, kiddo. Do what you need to do."

"It's pretty here. The weather's perfect." I watched as the 5:00 pace group trudged past me. My heart sank. Tears welled when I vocalized "I am going to come in after 5 hours."

"You will be OK. You've been sick and haven't trained. I love you." He said. I love him too.

I walk/jogged the next four miles, grabbed some painkillers at the medic station at mile 18, pulled out my phone to ask how Nell did (slower than she wanted but had fun) and to let them know I could be another 2 hours since I had slowed down so much.

I pushed on until I hit a fantastic downhill at mile 19-22 along 48th street. I rallied. This is a training run for my future marathons.

The next time I checked my phone, Moo asked how I was feeling. "Mile 21" I wrote back.
De'anna texted: Approaching 20? I smiled. I was past it.

I let Nell and Peggy know I was at mile 24. They were waiting for me at 26. Embrace the journey, Nell texted. There is no wall, wrote Peg.

A girl in all black was crying ahead of me. Earlier, I had heard her exclaim "Yay! Mile 25!" and took off when she saw the mile-marker sign, but only made it about a quarter mile. As I passed her, I managed: "You got this, girl. You're almost there." She gasped. I didn't see her again, but I hope she finished her last mile.

I turned the corner and headed toward Sun Devil Stadium. I was more exhausted than my previous two marathons, but I was happy (unlike Vegas). I saw Peg, Nell, Cindy and her husband Jason ahead. They were screaming as I passed them. 385 yards to go...no time to stop now!

I gotta finish this booger...

As I ran toward the finish, I heard flip flops closing in behind me. I looked to my right as Nell approached. "Run Bitches!" I yelled over my iPod. "Run bitch, run!" She yelled back.

I put every last bit of energy into that last 200 yards. I pushed. I crossed the finish line at 5:25:18.

The medal was placed around my neck. A space blanket around my shoulders. I grabbed a banana, a frozen yogurt from MoJo (yum), and a Jamba Juice smoothie. Then I saw the best booth ever...

So this stubborn little German did what I thought she would do. She ran a marathon with only one short run in six weeks (and told whatever infected her body in December and January to go bug someone else).

Third marathon finish in three states. Who's next?

I'm kind of thinking about the Steve Miller Band song: "I went from Phoenix Arizona all the way to Tacoma..."