About fifteen years ago my sister, Cindy, and her husband, Rob, moved to Tampa from Naples. My sister and I weren't really "friends" then and it was awkward when they moved into "my" town. Of course the two of them promptly registered for the 15K Gasparilla, which was something that was very unfamiliar to me. At that time I had never ever even taken one jogging step. I couldn't understand why someone would pay money to run nine miles. I just thought, "Whatever. That's some Cindy and Rob extreme thing."
For some reason my sister was able to convince me to register. (Remember we weren't really "friends" then...just sisters and as the little sister, I did what she said to do.) She told me that I should/could run in the 15K. She said that it would be easy. She said that the first couple of miles would be fun and the energy from the pack would just whisk me along, no problem. I had enough sense to only register for the 5K.
I "trained" for that with a gal from work who lived near by my house. She was tough on me. I hated every single solitary step. I couldn't understand how every step sucked so bad and why I couldn't get to a point when I was able to make progress. I was excellent at step aerobics...I could do that forever and never miss a beat or even get tangled up in my step. Again, I couldn't imagine why anyone would pay money to run in a race. What do you get in the end? A t-shirt? Well, that's dumb.
Eventually the race day came. My sister and her husband did the 15K. My co-worker/trainer didn't run with me but another friend was going to run along with me. My husband and my best friend were going to be waiting for me at the finish line. I had on my t-shirt and had made myself a mix-tape (on cassette) of some of my favorite songs. I was ready and scared to death. What was I doing?!
We started running about a block and a half before we even got to the start line. Over the Brorein Bridge, making the turn by Publix I spied my sister and her husband. They had just finished their 15K and HOPPED IN AND RAN MY RACE WITH ME! I had barely gone a mile, down hill even...I think I may have been walking already! And they just ran right next to me. I wanted to stop but my sister said to just go until the end of that block, or to the stop sign, or to the next house... I couldn't believe that she/they were basically dragging me along and they had just finished running nine miles. WTF?!
I finished that 5K in about 47 or 48 minutes. People were walking faster than I was running. That was my first ever Gasparilla Distance Classic.
Later that year I ran in a race in Y-Bor City called Night Moves. I think that I ran in that race with some people from work. We weren't running together but we all registered for the same race and were planning on meeting up once we were finished. My sister and her husband also ran in that race. The course went from behind Frankie's Patio (now Centennial Park) and on 7th or 8th, over by the "pink projects", turned around at the train station, back up 7th, behind Empire and then finally... the finish line. That night was hot and sticky. That course went on FOREVER! I swear they didn't measure that thing correctly.
My sister was more than two thirds done and spotted me from the other side of the "pink projects" and HOPPED ACROSS THE MEDIAN and ran the whole damn thing again! WTF?! Why would someone do that? She was basically done. It was a million degrees with a million percent humidity and we were in the 'hood AT NIGHT! Again, she basically dragged me to the finish line.
We did this running/dragging thing several more times. But I eventually quit running altogether. We would joke that although I ran a 5K race, it was a 15F (F standing for the number of times I hollered FUCK!)
Years passed. My sister and I grew to be good friends. She got divorced and eventually moved back to the east coast (Jupiter, FL). The summer and fall of 2004 brought a lot of hurricanes and we evacuated to each other's houses and that helped us to remain physically close and involved in each other's lives.
During that time she was sick and couldn't shake off her nagging cold. She took a lot of medicines and even got a B12 shot (which is remarkable because my sister would rather eat dog dirt than take a shot!) but she still kept coughing and feeling run down. Eventually, I suggested to her that she should get a chest x-ray because I thought she might have pneumonia. It turns out, that x-ray showed "some signs of malignancy" and within about a week she was in the hospital with lung cancer. Lung cancer that couldn't be operated on or be cured.
She was intending to come to Tampa to visit Moffit on a Friday. In preparation for coming to Tampa, she was showering at her house but couldn't continue because she couldn't catch her breath. My mom took her to the emergency room around noon. I arrived at the hospital the next morning (a Saturday). At about 4:00 we met with an oncologist who explained to us that this was some sort of genetic mistake. Her cancer could not be effectively treated. She would take a six hour chemo treatment. The doctor explained to us that it would be dangerous and Cindy announced that if she wasn't going to make it that she wanted the plug to be pulled and to not have any heroic measures performed.
After the doctor left her hospital room, I got in her bed with her and hugged her and cried. I told her that I wanted to be there for her like she was for me when I was running those races. For me, running was something that I just could not conquer and the fact that she was willing to re-run those steps with me was the most kind action! I wanted so very much to be that person for her as she was facing a task that she could not conquer. Through tears, I explained that to her.
She died at around 8:00 or 9:00 that night, a half hour into the six hour chemo treatment. My sister had asked us to leave while she took the chemo. We were at her house (only about 5 minutes away) when my dad got a call to return to the hospital because her heart had stopped. When we got there, they were trying to resuscitate to her. I stood in the doorway of her hospital room, watching, and hoping that she knew that I was there for her. She wasn't alone. I was there with her.
And so, tomorrow I will run in the Gasparilla Distance Classic. It will be the day after her birthday. I will run by myself but I will not be alone.
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| Cindy after running the first ever Gasparilla/Hops marathon. |
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