Things I've Learned Talking to Myself: Race to the Angel: My Photo Diary

Competitor #44, Paul Neff

Sunrises in the desert are beautiful. And the only reason I know this is because I actually saw one on Saturday morning, compliments of Paul and his yearly attempt to kill/maim himself by participating in the Race to the Angel, a mere 13.1 mile course that goes straight up the side of a mountain (with an elevation increase of nearly 5,000 feet). Several people at the starting line wanted to know if I was also going to "get in on the fun" and that caused me to think three things: #1 Hello, I'm wearing flip flops and earrings, do I LOOK like I'm going to be in a race? #2 I SHOULD have been in the race because none of you look like you're actually going to make it and #3 You have got to be kidding me, please show me the REAL course because there is NO WAY I would try that (I was in the race sometime back in 2001 where I very nearly died of lack of oxygen).

Anyway, for my entire life, I have pretty much considered myself an "athlete" but come to find out that my calling in life was actually to be a cheerleader (and if anyone makes a comment on this claiming that cheerleaders ARE athletes, I will happily forward a picture of the 1995-96 cheerleading squad from Wells High, which will instantly prove otherwise). And, as I always say, "If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter."

Judy and I took to the road in the sweet Diamante (after an hour stop at the grocery store just to give the walking racers a head start) carting Gatorade for dad and massive amounts of beef jerky for us (you know, gotta keep your strength up somehow) along with our dance mix CD's. We pulled over intermittently to offer dad some refreshing beverages and also to whip out our best dance moves (although I hate to admit that we were not successful in distracting Ricardo Savadra, dad's main competition who happens to be 20 years younger than him).

We served as the entire cheering section as it seems that we were the only ones along the race route the knew the "We've Got Spirit" cheer and also the only ones who had many encouraging comments for all the racers including the bikers and runners. In fact, I might be getting bold here, but I think it's safe to say that we were what you might call "super fans".

Much to his disappointment, Dad crossed the line in 2:46.30, two minutes slower than the previous year and three minutes behind Ricardo. He was top in his age group and second overall. He also managed not to throw up, which in my book, was the major accomplishment for the day. I am also happy to report that today, two days after the race, he is still alive and shows no sign of muscle soreness. Not bad for a sixty-two year old geezer.