An Amazing Race I Don't Want to Think About
October 20, 2019.
That’s when I had my best race since resuming competitive racing. I won my age group in the IMT Des Moines Half Marathon with the fastest time in the 55-59 division for the previous six years. I’ve had good half marathons since then. But nothing that ever equaled that time.
Despite all of that, this is a race that I don’t like to think about. I rarely listen to its playlist. Its medal is buried behind others on my wall rack. The sharp-looking black jacket from that event hangs in a corner of a closet I ignore.
All because of what happened six days before that race.
That was when I lost Dylan.
He was a twelve-year old miniature dachshund. The youngest of my three “fur-kids,” I always considered him "my puppy.” If you are a pet owner, you no doubt understand what I’m about to share.
A Single Parent
After a divorce in 2008, I became a "single parent," responsible for three miniature dachshunds. That meant finding someone to feed them when work kept me late - which was most of the time. Those first few months were also a struggle to find the proper balance between time with my “mutts” and the demands of a 50-hour workweek. When I moved to Iowa from Wisconsin, every home I considered had to meet certain criteria for my "little kids." That also included finding “doggie care” for those late nights and/or weekends due to my job.
Nor did I mind in the slightest. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment I had with each of them. Seeing those little tails wag when I got home or watching them chase each other around the yard or when they would all finally fall asleep on my lap made every penny and moment of time absolutely worthwhile.
As much as I cherished each of them, I also realized that once Amy and I got together, they were no longer young dogs. Indeed, we had already said “goodbye” to the oldest during the previous year. The tough old “wiener dog” had recovered from two back surgeries before age finally caught up with her a few months after her 17th birthday.
A Sudden Loss
It was a Friday following a vet visit that had Dylan crated for what seemed a minor back issue. By the following Monday, a notable decline had him back at that veterinary hospital where a series of tests revealed a large, inoperable tumor. Later that afternoon, on perhaps the most beautiful fall day of 2019, Amy and I had to stare blankly at that stunning blue sky while we waited for the vet to bring us Dylan for what would be our final moments with him.
I had been prepared to have to have the oldest put down the previous year, given her age and declining health. But Dylan was only twelve. All of this had happened so quickly. Way too quickly.
Coach Ives offered to take that next day off from running. I couldn’t. I needed an outlet to start processing everything.
As every pet owner knows, the following days were not easy. Further exacerbated for us by our remaining black and tan dachshund experiencing her own grief with barking and howling as she’d never been alone before.
The race arrived the following Sunday morning.
Running Numb
This would be my first time running the IMT Des Moines Half. Part of the Des Moines Marathon, one of the state’s largest and most popular races, I’d trained hard for several months, hoping to have a strong race.
Dozens of uncertain thoughts flickered in my mind on that cold morning before the race. The first several miles had me essentially on autopilot. About all I recall was throwing my unnecessary gloves onto a median at mile two and when we split from the marathon racers at mile three.
At some point later, it hit me that my pace exceeded what I’d intended to run. Under normal racing conditions, that I was running faster would have prompted strategic considerations. Should I ease back? Maintain the pace? But on that morning, I simply continued running.
It wasn't until the nine-mile mark that I finally felt the full effects of that pace. Now completely immersed in the pain cave, I made the decision that no way in hell would I slow my pace.
When you run a half marathon, it’s sometimes tempting in the early part of the race to think of the final three miles as "easier" because you only have a few miles remaining. Truth is, when you do reach those last few miles, every remaining segment becomes a struggle under the weight of the fatigue and distance.
That was most definitely me on that day. But realizing that each stride brought me closer to the end, I did all that I could to maintain that pace with my perseverance rewarded when I finally crossed the finish line.
Aching legs somehow made it to that meridian to retrieve my gloves before heading to the results tent for my official time. Upon handing me the slip of paper with my time, the volunteer offered a genuine compliment on my race. After thanking him and moving away, I actually started to choke up, the enormity of the past week beginning to envelop me.
Fortunately, being approached by another runner distracted me enough to submerge those feelings yet again. However, when I made it home a little later and Amy asked about the race, I truly choked up, unable to speak for several minutes. There seemed so much to say to my wife about the race, what I was feeling and being in a home that seemed empty without my "little boy's" bushy red tail offering me a fond greeting.
Looking Back
It’s been five years since that race. Although I’ve had some decent half marathons since then, nothing has really come close to what I accomplished on that day. That includes running the IMT Half several times since then.
If you have never had a pet, you cannot comprehend the incredible impact they have on your life. If you have had a pet, I’ve no doubt you’ve experiences of your own with the heartfelt joy they bring to our lives and devastating sorrow when they leave.
On the plus side, Amy and I added Daphne to our family. This English Cream miniature dachshund was actually born the day after we said “good-bye” to Dylan.
Each year that I run the IMT Half, I hope it provides another layer of memories far easier than those of that cold morning. But I know that even if I run it another twenty years, I will never completely forget that special race or Dylan.
My thanks to everyone for reading this post. I hope it has had some connection or touched on some aspect of your life. I won’t ask, but if you wish to share any comments, you are welcome to do so in the comments below or on Facebook.
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