April 21, 2013, Brisbane, CA, Zippy 5K

Jack Mingo @ 28:09 for 9:04 pace
Kim Spinale & RMC @ 36:11 for 11:39 pace

Zippy the Pinhead and the Wabbit

My older brother Dick, at the age of 70, is a runner of some accomplishment. At every one of my races I think about him and how running has been so important to him at this phase of his life. In fact, I have often wondered what he thinks about or feels when he remembers fighting and surviving lymphoma cancer six times but still continues to enter races and often wins his age division. Fortunately, he has been in remission for several months now and is living a full life. We share running (and especially racing) and reading thrillers and I know my life is richer because of our new found brotherly connection, which was facilitated by his initial bouts with cancer. I also know that my daily “struggle” with my Type 2 diabetes can’t be even remotely as scary as what he has been through and lives with constantly. My friend Kim has had her own difficult memories to work through. On May 20, 2007 “Joe Spinale, an avid runner, waved to his wife as he crossed the finish line at Sunday's Bay to Breakers race before he collapsed and died of an apparent heart attack. It wasn't until hours later that his wife, Kim Spinale, found out that her 53-year-old husband had died.”

In our conversations Kim often shared how she and Joe had built a strong and loving relationship during their years together. Her loss reminded me of my musings about Dick’s saga.  I can’t imagine the level of grief she must feel or how Dick coped with his journey through cancer.  Surprisingly, Dick runs with passion, skill, and a keen sense of enjoyment. And now Kim enjoyed accompanying me and my running friends to races just like she had often done with Joe, knowing that she also carries with her the memory of that final tragic race.  Which highlights how delightful it was to have Kim join Jack, Dick, and I at races, performing the “den mother” duties with grace and kindness. She sometimes would sign up to walk the course and participate in that way.

A few months ago, though, that all changed. She asked me if I would work with her to start training and running, so she could join me and her stepdaughter, Gina –who lives in the east but was planning to move back to the bay area in the fall-- in runs and enter races. Gina had stepped up her training to run a half marathon which she completed this spring. Gina and Kim are very close so this would be one more way they could bond and enjoy their relationship.  

During our runs Kim and I had talked about finding a race she could enter as a way to keep her motivated and help her set her running goals. Kim is a woman “of consideration” so when she sets a goal that is a sacred task. She means business. I knew that about her and wanted to make sure I paid attention to her desire to get in the running game. Now she and my friend Jack conspired to enter all three of us in the Zippy 5K which was being held for the first time in Brisbane, CA. When I came home from one of my trips I said I was game to enter if they really wanted to do this race. I had thought Kim might want to wait a bit longer but she was raring to go. Jack loves this race primarily because it is usually the funniest and best designed tee shirt among bay area events. So come Sunday morning all three of us headed off to Kim’s first race in her new role as runner not walker and to find Brisbane, a small city south of San Francisco which Jack and I did not quite know the location of. Kim was more informed about its location but none of us knew where the race was within the city. But we found both: All hail the iPod/iPhone GPS apps, now finding unknown locations have been drained of their mystery and the fear of getting lost. We found Brisbane and then the location of the park and the race.

But what was this? We registered, forked over multiple bills and they handed us a tee shirt with an illustration not in full blazing color but brown and black on gray? What? Disappointment and despair rolled through my body at this betrayal of the Zippy tradition. But this was Kim’s first race so I had to “let this go” and move into race mode. Jack and Kim and I threw our tee shirts in the car and went back to the peppy little expo in the park by the starting line. We said hello to a couple of my fellow running club members, Ross and Laury, with Laury doing her sweet “join the club” routine for the Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders running club with Jack and Kim. I think it worked. 

As we were walking up to the starting line I kept noticing that the field of runners was young and very fit and probably very fast. It was hard to put it out of my mind because it meant that Kim and I would be at the end of the pack. Years ago when I was first starting to enter races I remember so well that Jack would run with me during a 5K or 10K, even though it meant he had to run very slow. Eventually I found my own stride and could run without his side by side encouragement. Although he never stopped encouraging me and running with me when we were just doing our daily runs. Even as I think about that kind of friendship I feel my eyes misting up. I am so grateful. And now it was my turn to do the same for Kim. To run with her, even walk with her, as she found her own path along this running and race adventure.

Before the race began there was a certain festive air around the booths and amidst the runners. Here is a picture of us before the race which captures some of that bon vivant feeling. Clearly my little Spibeltundefinedwhich holds my keys, shot blocks and chap stick-- sticking out below my shirt is a high fashion statement.

As we were all crowding up to the starting line there was a loud bang, as a starting gun went off. It startled me, and there was a collective gasp from the crowd. I guess none of us expected it. For a second I realized that I never heard starting guns anymore, although I have no idea why. I took off and for a few yards I had no idea what had happened to Kim or to Jack. And looking back over your shoulder at the beginning of a race is actually a bit dangerous. But I kept looking over my right shoulder and couldn’t find either one of them. I was irritated with myself for not paying attention. That gun had startled me more than I thought. Then I heard Kim’s voice on my left side and saw that she was fine and running right along. I joined her, and wished Jack well, he was going ahead; since he is so much faster than us I wasn’t worried about him. Although now I will say that I love that Jack finishes several minutes before I do but then he comes back on the course and yells encouragement and takes pictures. The mark of a true friend.

Once we watched the majority of the field speed away both Kim and I settled down and found a pace we could maintain. She was running strong and I thought we might be able to go farther than our normal training runs before we might need to take a break and walk. Since we were going uphill for longer than I had anticipated, I did want to take it easy. In previous years I would often do a bit of “hill work” as a part of my training, which is hard and exhausting. As I inferred I don’t do any hills my daily runs so I knew this course could take its toll on our energy levels fairly quickly if Kim and I didn’t adjust. I really didn’t want that to happen, as then it would not be a good experience for Kim and it might make her less excited about doing races. I didn’t need to worry; she was not bitching and moaning about this like I did when I first started doing races.

One of the hardest tasks in a race for me is to find a pace where my breath is not labored and I am not gasping for breath. At the same time I want to push myself but when you are running mile after mile there are real physical limits and they seem to be different for every race.  Of course, sometimes this is just a mental game and my body can do more than I imagine. But then again I can’t “imagine” running faster than my training allows and that is disappointing. In fact, in every race I have to wrestle with that inner dynamic and force myself to accept what I can do that day, that morning.

Although I didn’t notice them, Kim said she saw chalk mile markers on the street. It gave us some signposts since my GPS watch had died and I have no accurate inner pace clock. I will confess that not having my GPS is very upsetting and stressful for me. I try to hide it but the truth is that I feel naked when I am doing a race and I have no idea what my pace is or where I am along the course. It is some sort of comfort “food” for me. And right now I hate Garmin for making a version of their GPS watch that was unreliable and impossible to configure. And then it had the temerity to just die. Mein Gott im Himmel, what a horror. I keep threatening to send the watch back and just tell them where to stick it. But I have not done that yet, but I probably will. As if they cared. But I will feel better and it is, of course, all about what I feel.

We did end up walking about four times throughout the race. We could both feel that we were running at a faster pace than we do usually, so walking was inevitable. Although Kim was clearly pushing herself harder and farther than during our training runs. I had told her before on one of our runs that there was one rule she had to learn: If she was going to walk uphill then she had to run downhill. And learn to run downhill in a way that conserved energy. For me it means I even change my stride so that I can increase my pace, but diminish the stride shock. I lower my hips and take shorter faster strides that are closer to the ground, a motion that is more like riding a bicycle. I have watched too many amateur runners start careening down a hill with little control, which puts them and other runners in danger of falling or being shoved to the ground. I learned early, from Jack of course, to find a way to avoid that precarious situation and still maximize the opportunity. It is rather exhilarating to be passing people that had passed me just a short time earlier. Kim was not missing a beat so we kept moving uphill with the anticipation that at some point we would crest and be able to come back down.

The course was fairly evenly divided between two halves, 1.55 miles uphill and then 1.55 miles downhill. As we were going uphill I kept reminding myself that we would be going downhill eventually and all of this labored breathing and pain would decrease almost instantly. It is hard to remember those kinds of things when you are running because the present moment is so, well, present! Stress and pain tend to keep you occupied with the present. Participating in a race intensifies those feelings just enough that I never feel relaxed or “comfortable.” It helped that I could talk with Kim and keep encouraging her. That act made me forget about myself even for a few moments. And she was doing a great job. As you can see in the picture, Kim is smiling and I am wearing my usual enigmatic race face. It is not hard to figure out who is having more fun!

As we were nearing the finish I had to battle a rather heated inner dialogue. One of my great joys in a race is sprinting at the end and feeling the rush of adrenaline, sometimes punctuated by the gasps from the crowd who are not expecting an old white guy to put on a show. It is one of the few glory moments that someone who runs a fairly slow pace like me can anticipate with joy. But I calmed myself, and made another vow to stay close to Kim and not betray my commitment to go with her the whole way. I did tell her that we were going to sprint at the end but we would do it together. And we did finish together and with the exact same time.

This picture of us sprinting is also a tribute to my fine coaching. Kim is using her arms to propel her legs forward more aggressively; she is lengthening her stride, and breathing in a way that supports the effort. It might also suggest that Kim has natural running ability. In either case I was glad she could dig deep and do this even though she had pushed hard throughout the 5K!

Jack, of course, had finished long before Kim and I. Being the renowned videographer and photographer that he is, he ran back on the course to take these pictures. And Jack doesn’t just take pictures; he is the constant encourager and has cheered me on, especially when I am sprinting, in more races than I can even count. And he did the same for Kim that morning. A friend indeed, and he is probably a better running coach than me, if the truth must be known.

We were in for another delightful surprise after we finished. Many members of the Lake Merritt Joggers and Strikers running club were also participating. I have enjoyed being a member of this running club for a few years now and it was a treat to see so many of the team there. You can go to Jeanine Bourcier Holmlund’s Facebook page, and click on this photo and all of the runners in the photo are identified. Thank you, Jeanine.

Now, of course, Kim, who is goal oriented, is scoping out other races and reminding me that we need to sign up soon for summer races. It will not take long before she is running at a faster pace than I can maintain and she will have to invent her own mental games to keep the mojo working throughout the race. But I will be smiling all the way, even if I am miles behind her.

Members of the Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders running club who participated in the Zippy 5K