With palms together,
Good Afternoon Everyone,
This morning Student Yubao and I lined up in the chaos of the White Sands Missile Range’s Bataan Death March Memorial race with 6500 marchers. We could not find Student Alice and neither of us had her cell number. The wind was horrible, gusting easily into the 40 MPH range, and steady at 20-25 MPH. It was chilly and dark. The wind made fast work of Yubao’s hat which he bought on our last long hike through the desert.
As the start time approached, after the Star-Spangled Banner was sung by singer Ricky Lee, the announcer did a Roll Call of those Bataan Survivors present and one’s who died over the year since the last March. Three survivors voiced “Here!” There was an eerie silence as the deceased were called out. A fly-over by the Air Force ended the opening ceremonies and the cannon blasted our start.
I felt great. The weather got better as the sun rose over the mountains. The huge crowded field made it seem easy to get through the first two miles of the race. It did not thin out until about mile 9. At mile 5-6, we made a left turn and began our ascent. It was here I felt the flush I sometimes feel. It’s as though I cannot feel my left arm and hand and a sort of halo feeling arises. It’s the sort of thing I used to feel years ago when I was epileptic (from the gunshot wound to my head in Vietnam).
I checked my pulse and maintained my pace. But did tear open a “Zone” bar as I climbed. It seemed as though that hill was going to last forever. In fact, it was about a 3.5 miles according to my Garmin. Anyway, the relief of getting to the top was short-lived as winding through these desert trails led to the infamous “sand pit,” a stretch of about two miles of ankle deep sand. I immediately recognized the value of those silly looking cloth ankle covers some fortunate, smarter than I, hikers were wearing.
Student Yubau, a Chinese man in his mid-forties, called me on my cell phone (he had slipped into the Gulf Stream of Speed-racers early, leaving me in the dust) to tell he had finished the race. Good grief. But it was good to hear his voice.
As we approached the finish line at about a mile out, I decided to pick up my pace by jogging. Kathryn Soku Shin was to greet me at the finish, but alas, I was too quick for her and went over the finish line at 4:24:18, according to me Garmin.
The crowd support was marvelous and the volunteer support was superb. It was a pleasure seeing such dedication and support from so many people along the way. A tired soldier with US Army Spandex was struggling under a tree to get his long pants on. I assisted him. In return he offered me his really cool Army space blanket, which of course, was Olive Drab on one side, and silver on the other. I thanked him and sat down on the grass to inspect my blisters. Along came Kathryn, which was delightful. We had some lunch, a beer, and a truly delicious ride home.
While I do not support war, it is good to know we have such wonderful people in service to protecting us from those who would do us harm. Let us never again confuse the war with the warrior. It was an honor to March with them.
Be well.
Good Afternoon Everyone,
This morning Student Yubao and I lined up in the chaos of the White Sands Missile Range’s Bataan Death March Memorial race with 6500 marchers. We could not find Student Alice and neither of us had her cell number. The wind was horrible, gusting easily into the 40 MPH range, and steady at 20-25 MPH. It was chilly and dark. The wind made fast work of Yubao’s hat which he bought on our last long hike through the desert.
As the start time approached, after the Star-Spangled Banner was sung by singer Ricky Lee, the announcer did a Roll Call of those Bataan Survivors present and one’s who died over the year since the last March. Three survivors voiced “Here!” There was an eerie silence as the deceased were called out. A fly-over by the Air Force ended the opening ceremonies and the cannon blasted our start.
I felt great. The weather got better as the sun rose over the mountains. The huge crowded field made it seem easy to get through the first two miles of the race. It did not thin out until about mile 9. At mile 5-6, we made a left turn and began our ascent. It was here I felt the flush I sometimes feel. It’s as though I cannot feel my left arm and hand and a sort of halo feeling arises. It’s the sort of thing I used to feel years ago when I was epileptic (from the gunshot wound to my head in Vietnam).
I checked my pulse and maintained my pace. But did tear open a “Zone” bar as I climbed. It seemed as though that hill was going to last forever. In fact, it was about a 3.5 miles according to my Garmin. Anyway, the relief of getting to the top was short-lived as winding through these desert trails led to the infamous “sand pit,” a stretch of about two miles of ankle deep sand. I immediately recognized the value of those silly looking cloth ankle covers some fortunate, smarter than I, hikers were wearing.
Student Yubau, a Chinese man in his mid-forties, called me on my cell phone (he had slipped into the Gulf Stream of Speed-racers early, leaving me in the dust) to tell he had finished the race. Good grief. But it was good to hear his voice.
As we approached the finish line at about a mile out, I decided to pick up my pace by jogging. Kathryn Soku Shin was to greet me at the finish, but alas, I was too quick for her and went over the finish line at 4:24:18, according to me Garmin.
The crowd support was marvelous and the volunteer support was superb. It was a pleasure seeing such dedication and support from so many people along the way. A tired soldier with US Army Spandex was struggling under a tree to get his long pants on. I assisted him. In return he offered me his really cool Army space blanket, which of course, was Olive Drab on one side, and silver on the other. I thanked him and sat down on the grass to inspect my blisters. Along came Kathryn, which was delightful. We had some lunch, a beer, and a truly delicious ride home.
While I do not support war, it is good to know we have such wonderful people in service to protecting us from those who would do us harm. Let us never again confuse the war with the warrior. It was an honor to March with them.
Be well.
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