I had some weird dreams last night. Maybe it was the Winterhook - 'tis the season. I dreamt I was at the NYC marathon. Somehow when I was running yesterday I started thinking about it. In my dream, there was a stopping point at the 17 mile mark - under some freeway interchange. We were asked to stop at the large water station that looked more like a concert venue. I figured I didn't need water, but the officials held me back, too. No one was allowed to continue, and water wasn't being served. It was unclear whether they were out of water, or simply making us wait. The officials all seemed to have no concern about the fact that no one was being given water, no one was getting water - and none of the runners seemed the least bit bothered by it. I remember being so annoyed at the ridiculous thought of waiting around 20 minutes at mile 17 for no reason. My dream fast-forwarded to after the race - in this part of the dream I wasn't a runner, but a volunteer. I was speaking with a man who had run. He was an older black man - probably around 75 - of the variety that has lived a little and has great stories to tell if you stay a while. This man told me he had run a 2:20, and he was waiting for water. The finishers were sitting in folding chairs near a stage area, and were being 'served' water. I went to ask one of the wait staff if I could take the man some water, but was told they were out at the moment. I convinced the staff that when water came in, to please take some to the older gentleman first. That's all I remember of my dream.
My run yesterday was in the rain - lots and lots of rain. Usually when one lives in the northwest, one looks forward to the rain this time of year, only to forget that once it starts, it will continue through next June. I had such a great run yesterday, though - I love the rain. Many streets and rivers in the area are forecast to flood later today and into tomorrow, and I relished in all the water. I love to get wet and muddy and puddle stomp. I was feeling so lucky to be able to live where I live and run where I run. Within a mere 9 mile run, I was able to add in muddy trail running in a wooded park all to myself, and 4 miles of saltwater beach with a little ways actually on the sand along Alki. I love beach runs. One day last week I was out running in the wee early morning hours and noticed the low tide. Really low tide = cookie runs on the sand. Once summer is over, it is a rare opportunity. There is always sand right on the main beach - less than a half mile to run on, but I'm talking tide low enough to add an extra 2.5 miles on the sand for an out and back. Pure solitude. Pristine untainted sand like a blank slate for my fresh footprints. Up close and personal with the herons out fishing and sometimes the eagles. Weaving through the section of barcacled rocks and seaweed. Chancing fate with the waves rushing toward my feet. It's all such a high for me. When I came back from running, I looked up the tide charts to see when my next opportunity would be, only to discover there isn't a tide low enough in my waking hours for the rest of the year. I just got lucky the other day.
Today I haven't run yet - just keeping tabs on NYC - and athlete tracker won't load for me - such a bummer. I'll have to check Josh and Steph's blogs later, or look up the results when it's all over. Or keep refreshing tracker, or keep refreshing marathonguide.com for updated results or tune to NBC later and hope for the hour of late race coverage. There isn't anything else pressing to do on a Sunday morning.