This Wheel's On Fire ... The 2009 Inline Marathon!
We pulled it off.
I'll get to the details, but I need to repeat that a couple more times.
We pulled it off. WE pulled it off. We PULLED it off. We pulled IT off.
We pulled it OFF!
Cue, Ms. E, and I - the senior member of the team with a whopping three and a
half months on the job - facing long odds and multiple logistical challenges,
muscled this thing together successfully.
And I couldn't be prouder. BEAMING, I've been. All week.
We had a few glitches, of course. The worst of which was a timing snafu
involving the PRESIDENT of ROLLERBLADE, who, uh, also happens to be one of the
most classily handsome guys I've ever SEEN - argh, argh, argh.
Fortunately, he was quite forgiving.
You know that logo from Donald Trump's show, The Apprentice? It's the silouhette
of a guy running with a briefcase flying behind him.
If I could create an icon that best typifies me during race weekend, it would be
a silouhette running with keys and a walkie-talkie flying behind.
Friday, Expo/Spaghetti Dinner Day, went off 95 percent seamlessly. We had some
great new vendors and hundreds upon hundreds of shoppers. I was in my element.
I lost my voice (literally!) from all the schmoozing.
About 4:45 p.m., right as I was talking to the media ...
... my phone rang.
It was the gal from our sports promotion insurance company.
"Maurey, we never received your course record bounty contracts," she said. "Your
race is tomorrow. You need to fax them in NOW so you're covered."
The sun was shining. The sky was clear. A stiff tailwind was blowing my hair
forward.
This COULD be a course record year.
And, um, without the insurance, we'd be on the hook for every penny of the
$20,000 bounties.
I sprinted across the blue bridge, in to my office, dug out the contracts, and
prepared to fax.
Only to discover that our fax was broken. Of COURSE it was.
I sprinted upstairs, to the Grandma's corporate office. They're a great sponsor,
and they helped me out. I printed a confirmation and walked slowly back across
the blue bridge, enjoying the brief moment of silence.
Just a few minutes later, my phone rang again.
"Maurey, we received two copies of the women's course record contract, but we
still don't have the men's."
"Are you KIDDING?"
"Yeah. We'll need you to fax the men's in separately."
It was after 5.
Grandma's Corporate would be closed.
NOW WHAT?
I must have looked frustrated as I disconnected, because the nice newsman who
had interviewed me asked if he could help.
I explained the situation.
"No problem. You can use our fax," he offered.
"Really? ohmygoshthankyouthisisareallyb
"Sure."
Just then, my phone rang again.
"Maurey, we are just about out of entry blanks for 2010 registration," said
Yang.
I took another sprint across the blue bridge.
No TONER in the copier. Of COURSE there wasn't.
A sprint down the block, to one of our sponsor hotels. I begged and pleaded with
the kid behind the desk, who was very nervous that someone would get him "in
trouble" if he helped us out.
Finally, after promising I would call and save his butt if any managers came
after him, I emerged from the lobby with 200 copier-warm 2010 entry blanks.
One more sprint across the blue bridge.
"You must be on the committee," the operator yelled at me as I flew past.
"I AM the committee," I yelled in return.
I grabbed Ballerina, my volunteer "personal assistant" for the weekend, stuffed
the contracts in her hand, and sent her over to the station to fax.
Problems SOLVED. Finally.
The massage therapists offered me a freebie. I happily accepted.
"Shoulders DOWN, Maurey," the owner admonished.
About 11 p.m., I wandered home. And set my alarm for 3 a.m.
Pajamas were pointless. I didn't sleep a wink. Not one. My mind churned. My
stomach turned.
At 2:51, I rolled out of bed and studied myself in the mirror. My eyes were
little pink balls.
"It really isn't fair," I muttered. "The week I look the worst, I'm on TV
constantly."
I felt like I might throw up at any minute. And - mark this down, people - I had
NO APPETITE. None. For the first time in my overly emotional life, I. COULD.
NOT. EAT.
Right now ... come on, it's everything ... catch that maaa-gic moment ... had
been playing over and over in my head all weekend, and the volume on it had
just gotten turned WAY up.
Sipping water, I hopped in the car, grabbed Ballerina, and headed to the start
line.
There are SO MANY people I need to thank for getting up at 4 a.m. (and in at
least one case, 2:45!) to help make me look good. Wow. You know who you are
(Mrs. BCUG, Yin, Mom, Steve, BB, Friends of Cue, Friends of Ms. E ...)
Leaving the full start assembly in my team's capable hands, I headed to the
half-marathon start with a couple of my favorite helpers. It took two large
men, two small but strong women, and a SUBURBAN to finally get the start banner
into place - for a time, it looked like the skaters might just have to duck
underneath. But we managed.
They weren't as shiny and pretty as in previous years, but we had start lines.
And we started both races ON TIME.
After I did my ceremonial stuff and got everything underway, I hopped in a
chopper - courtesy of my favorite former board member - with my videographer
and one of my new sponsors. It was a 10-minute ride, so we'd be to the finish
in time to greet the elites.
A beautiful, clear, sunny day. The skaters were tiny colorful dots below.
Our champion, Julian Rivera, was two minutes off the course record - amazing. A
15-year-old, Isabel
Bernier, brought it home for the ladies. Both of these athletes traveled all the
way from Colombia.
Here are a few assorted random shots from the awards ceremony - note my new
Spandex top, given to me by Juan, our official Spandex Guy. (The free sponsor
schwag was awesome!)
At several points over the weekend - but especially after watching the elites
cross - I almost broke down in tears. I was so proud, so happy, so touched by
all the help we received and all the people who were rooting for us.
THANK YOU.
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