I left Austin surprisingly full of energy, considering the early wake up call to catch an 8 a.m. flight. It was the first time in weeks that I didn't quite seem to mind being up before the sun. I hopped into the passenger's seat of my own car, something that doesn't happen very often, and left the driving up to a much-less-lively Booth. We set off to scoop up my running pal, Dan, and headed off to the airport, boarding pass in hand for a non-stop flight to San Fran.
Security. Check.
Boarding. Check.
Getting awkwardly identified as a runner by a random passenger. Check.
Taxiing. Check.
Cleared for takeoff. Check.
Waiting on the runway, waiting on the runway, nothing's happening, nothing's happening, people look pissed, . Pilot comes on the loudspeaker with news of a faulty smoke detector. Being an important piece of equipment, we turn around and head back to the gate to get it fixed. They tell us it should be a quick 5 minute fix.
Fifteen minutes later, it's still going to be a 5 minute fix.
Half an hour later, they are trying a new approach that should take 5 minutes or so.
An hour later, I've napped, woken up, found that we are still at the gate, and assume it will be at least another undefined period of 5 minutes before we take off.
Two hours later we de-plane, given that, as it turns out, five minutes x infinity will apparently not equal a fixed a smoke detector.
Meanwhile, I had been chatting to my row neighbor. He was a man in his late 50's or so who was traveling to San Francisco to visit his daughter. As soon as it had become apparent that we would not be leaving Austin any time soon, he made sure to tell me about how crappy jetBlue had been lately as far as getting him to places on time, and how he wanted them to stop giving him travel vouchers because he'd rather just fly a different airline. Touché, sir. His wife, even more exasperated than the man himself, sat angrily on the other side of our row, and made no eye contact whatsoever. (*Note: keep this couple in mind as they will be relevant later)
So I drag my feet off the plane, much less giddy, much less enthusiasti, much lower energy than when I left my apartment and plop down in a new chair. After waiting around, getting a snack, running into a salsa student while achieving said snack, we are told we need to wait for a new plane to come in from Fort Lauderdale in 2 hours so that we can take that plane and head out to Cali. Ho hum.
So there we were, Dan and I, chatting away, waiting for two hours to go by, when we saw a man with a sandwich. Now, this wasn't just any old sandwich. This was a Thundercloud wich... probably one of the tastiest and cheapest (so by definition, greatest) sub shops in Austin. We immediately looked at each other and wondered, is there really a Thundercloud at the airport? Or did the man bring in the wich from the outside world? Is he teasing us? Or is this the real life? Tempted to asked, but ashamed to be so excited about a sub, we wandered off on a Thunder-Mission. I mean, what else were we going to do for another hour?
I'll tell you, Austin-Bergstrom airport is not what you'd call LARGE, so after walking down rows and rows of restaurants, I legan to feel a bit demoralized and offended by incosiderate man who decided it was appropriate to aunt others with his lunch products. But in the midst of my self-pity .... I spied a lightning bolt! Could it be!? Ah, the classic logo, yes, it was true: Thunder, thunder, thuuuuuunder cloud!
After rejoicing with the sight and taste of a great wich, we headed back to the gate, and moments later, began to board our new plane.
Wooooo, send it around again! In a serious case of deja-vu, we re boarded, I got re-greeted by the random passenger who identified me as a runner traveling for the marathon, re-seated next to my angry row companion, re-taxied, and finally, this time around got cleared for take off!
After four hours of puzzles and girly movies, we descended into the wonderfully sunny and pleasantly 60-degree bay area. We got off the plane at long last and as we were walking down the hallway in search for the exit, *crraaaack....SNAP....plop* My 8-year-old Adidas duffel bag lost it's strap and plummeted to the floor. My initial reaction was to be pissed, bothered. But then I thought, I've been trying to get to this wonderful city for over 6 hours, now I'm here, I don't give a crap about my bag! So I picked it up by the handles and moved on.
Dan and I finally made it out of the airport, and were greeted by my most excellent friend Emily.
Emily and I were two Brookline High School grads who managed to go for four years at the same school knowing many of the same people without ever crossing each other's paths. That is of course until we were fortunate enough to make the same decision to volunteer in Chile at the same time, and became roommates in the world's smallest apartment with our goofy 19-year-old british roommate Jack. And well, after months of living in close quarters (literally, our beds were about 2 feet apart from each other and our door didn't open all the way because the room was so small), surviving an earthquake, a robbery, panic attacks, camping trips, happy moments, sad moments, arguments and laughter, you can say we passed the test of friendship.So here I was, getting picked up by one of my favorite people, in one of my favorite cities, about to run a heck of a lot....JetBlue and a broken bag had nothing on me. I was a happy camper.
And so we found each other, piled into the car, and the three of us headed to the somewhat overwhelming but not that impressive marathon expo to pick up our race packets.
After an evening of meeting Emily's wonderful sister who came down just to support our running (more to come about her later), spending time lounging at a park nearby, chatting, catching up, and coming home for an early pasta dinner followed by an early bedtime, the nervousness began to set in.
I carefully laid out my shoes, socks, clothes, watch, iphone, race snacks, and bib number. Shit, I'm really doing this tomorrow.
I set my alarm for 4:15 a.m. and hit the pillow.
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