Tony's the product of an Irish man and a Philipino woman, but to look at him you would think that he was Thai or maybe Cambodian or maybe near where these two countries get uncomfortably close to China. He smiles a lot in the presence of the family, almost like he does with strangers and in undeniably quiet compared to outside Tony, the Tony we've all come to love and enjoy. After getting filled with turkey, potatoes, two types of cranberries (there was a third option but its can mold edges failed in comparison to the other home made varities), bread, butter (sure it can be an entry), and a little well picked white wine, Tony and I did some dishes and said our goodbyes.
Tony dropped me off at the airport after a quick good bye to the family and before I knew it I was in Seattle, standing on the high curb of the arrivals area at Sea-Tac. My short sleeve short a definite under shoot for the sub-freezing temperatures that night. After becoming acclimatized to the cold Pacific Northwest air, Joe and his girlfriend Julianna (sp?) picked me up and brought me back to their basement abode on Capitol Hill near Roy and Broadway.
Joe and I had seen each other for the first time in about 8 year this summer when he, his brother James and myself did a quick accent of Half Dome. Some how in the meantime Joe had convinced me to come up and run the Seattle marathon with him. Joe and I spent most of our youth together doing some un-routine stupid things and I see our reunion into the world of physical activity to be a continuation of such a joint venture. Joe, Julianna and I talked until about 1am and then I crashed out on their very comfortable green couch.
On Friday we went out to Top Pot, got a donut some tea and wandered around town by foot. We picked up our marathon race packets full with a RFID race chip and bib (#2216). Joe by luck of the draw got #216. The shear difference in our bib number tells you a little about when we signed up. Joe had it early in his mind to do this thing and was #216 to sign up. I on the other hand had been thinking or well not thinking about the marathon from when we first talked about it, so had to register in early October. I am also one of those people that act after I know there has been a financial investment, so my training or lack there of for the marathon didn't really start until early October. I got in 4 runs before the marathon: 1x around lake Merrit, 2x around lake Merrit, 3x around lake Merrit, and finally a 4x around lake Merrit. The last run was about 3 or weeks before the marathon and I never got in the really long run I was hoping to do, because I got crunched by shooting Keene's wedding out in North Carolina.
Friday night we walked over the Elysian brew pub on Capital Hill and met us with Elyn (formerly Owen). Elyn is one of those distinguished people that drank her way through college, not because she was an alcoholic but because she was truly bored. Blessed with a near perfect memory Elyn plowed right through college, med school and is now about to start residency for Dermatology (yes this is the profession that every med school student wants, because its 9-5, pays a shit load and well no real blood and guts…you have to score unbelievably high on your BOARDs to get there). We had our meals and Elyn and I had a couple dark beers a piece while Joe I think had a sprite and his underage girlfriend had a beer. Joe et al, retired back to their abode while Elyn took me out to introduce me to her med school folks. We met up with them at Bell Town Pizza where I had a delightful Pabst before heading over to Twist for a couple of amstels and vodka shots. The pretty boy med school boy had one of the waitresses all over his nuts and at a shallow male level almost made me rethink the whole med school thing…I could never do it though, the pink collared shirt and being owned by the pharmaceutical industry...no thanks. Elyn dropped me off at Joe's where I rapped on the window and Joe let me in. I proceeded directly to the bathroom to drain the excess liquids. A little buzzed I zipped up and made the movement towards the sink when I all of a sudden become ridiculously drunk, slipped, fell and then "rested" for a few hours on the floor before climbing back to the couch.
The next day all three of us went down to the Joe Bar, had some breakfast crepes and just kind of hung out most of the day after going to REI. Joe and I took in a few games of sliders up on 15th where I enjoyed a glass of a local brew while Joe enjoyed a good clean glass of sprite and kicking my ass at sliders and pool.
Sunday morning. The morning of the Marathon. 26.2 miles. Its fucking snowing. It hardly snows in Seattle and there outside the window, big white cotton balls of frozen water are falling from the sky. We gather our marathon items get in the car which is freezing and head down to the start line. Joe and I make use of the vinyl disposable ponchos he bought while his girlfriend goes to a local coffee shop to work on homework. Joe and I stand around under an overhang and try to keep ourselves from getting frozen wet. The snow has stopped by 8:15 when the "gun" goes off and its been replaced by freezing cold rain. Within the first hundred feet Joe manages to seek out a puddle and soak both his feet. Its going to happened sooner or latter, so heck why not just get it over with?
I ran with the poncho for about 6 miles, but let it go because I looked like an oversized blueberry and figured my core temp was high enough that I could risk just running in the shirt and shorts beneath. Joe and I ran together through about mile 12, where I accidentally leave him behind. I saw a guy running right behind me that I thought was Joe, but when the fella passed me on mile 21 I realized that he was not Joe and that Joe was no where to be seen. My muscles started getting tight around mile 21, but at this point I was feeding myself such a steady stream of lies that I don't think running into a semi would have prevented me from finishing. For parts of the run I repeated the Glen Pass (JMT) mantra "The easiest way to not be deceived is to not look pass my hands and feet, The easiest way to not be deceived is to not look pass my hands and feet,…." The saying had done wonders for me on the John Muir Trail and was some what effective on the course except that ones meditation was always being broken by the presence of others. At mile 25 I had changed the mantra to "Just 4 more mile, Just 4 more miles…" Nothing like trying to lie to yourself about something you can't, especially when the Space Needle finish line was in sight. At mile 25 a man was handing out donuts. I couldn't bring myself to put anything in my mouth besides GU which is about as close as I ever want to come to cum in my mouth. When Joe and I hand hit our first package of it I accidentally made some statement like "This shit tastes like some one blew their wad in my mouth and fuck its on my face." I have no volume control when running, so some of the runners around us moved at an uneasy pace to get ahead of us and those that couldn't turn on the steam just jeered the heads back at me. I found out later that Joe had hit up the donuts at mile 25 and the orange slices…fuck I would have killed for some of those orange slices.
I imagine that at big time marathons there are streets filled with people cheering on the finishers, but in the freezing cold rain of Seattle on November 26 there was only about a full city block of people and then some people with pots and pans lining the entrance into Memorial Stadium where the finish line was. I sprinted as much as one could sprint that last 100 yards. I really looked more like a wounded hyena that a marathoner, especially when some bloke with more energy came dancing right past me to the finish line. I finished at 4:01:37, so about 9:20 miles.
I hobbled around, got an emergency foil blanket, a hokey medal and then wandered my ass into the recovery area. There were massages for $15 and $10 acupuncture being offered by Byster college. I stopped by just to see if Kathy was there, but she probably went home for the break. I found Joe's girlfriend outside just as Joe crossed the finish line. We all walked real real real slowly back to the car and once home walked like men 4 times our age down the stairs and into the apartment. After collecting ourselves a bit we went to local QFC and bought some six packs to help with those aches and pains.
It snowed the next evening during my journey to Sea-Tac and home. The snow made the overall trip from Joe's place to the airport take about 3 hours (its usually 20 minutes) and my plane was delayed by 6 hours, so I came home to a very sleep deprived Arshi at the Oakland airport who had been nice enough to pick me up.
Video finish. I'm the grey beannied skinny white guy…yeah I know there are a million of us, so maybe bib number 2216 is easier.
http://www.marathonvideo.com/seattle2006/video.php?id=1570&view=1
At the finish line about to be beat out by someone that still has juice
Joe Balay
..
joe for good measure
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