5K

The SF Marathon was held this past weekend. (Side note: I think my hands are becoming dyslexic. Every now and then when I look up at my text, several words always appear scrambled, sometimes rearranged into words that make sense, other times into unintelligible garble.) I had registered for the 5k at the last minute, partly in an attempt to win a bet, and partly in an attempt to test myself.

For the entire week, I had conditioned myself to withstand longer distances, and to increase my pace. I ran 4 miles one day; I performed interval training the next. As instructed by several websites, I did not train 2 days before the race. I ran a light jog the day before the event and felt great, confident even.

My bib was picked up, my clothes were laid out the night before. The night before, I loaded myself up with carbs- mac and cheese- and I ate several berries high in fiber.

Although I did not sleep until midnight or 1:00 AM, I managed to wake up around 5:30 AM. I emptied my bowels, microwaved some instant steel-cut Irish oatmeal and ate that with a side of banana. My gear was on me, and wrapped in warm clothing, composed of a windbreaker and windpants, I headed out the door to stop at the corner of Carl and Stanyan, waiting anxiously for the 6:51 AM N-owl bus.

I felt amazing. This feeling was reminiscent of those days in high school when I would wake up early to ride the schoolbus to various Texas cities to compete in math/science contests. An entirely different venue altogether, but the thrill of competition was still there.

I waited, and waited, time rolling by me. It wasn't until 7:25 AM that the N-Owl actually arrived, which I boarded in hopes that it would get me there by my race time, or even a later wave. Apparently, these races place contestants in waves, in order to separate the packs and keep the races uncrowded, allowing the faster runners to lead first.

The first problem occurred when I entered the bus- some French tourists were bothering the driver about receiving the adequate amount of tickets. The second problem involved the backdoor of the bus-it failed to close again after passengers left the bus through that exit door. The driver ultimately had to stop the bus, turn off the engine, and turn it back on for the doors to reset itself. Once that ordeal was over, we encountered another problem, where the driver hits a dead end, and had to circle all the way back to where I was originally picked up, where we headed northward and turned to meet a lady at the corner. This lady worked for the SF MTA as well, and incidentally was the only person who had detour directions for our driver.

Once that driver was told where to go, he started heading towards the Embarcadero, where my race was to be held. The next problem was that part of the city was closed down along Market Street for the full marathon. Every time we met an intersection where the race was passing through, the bus had to stop to allow racers to run across, and only until there were no more were we allowed to cross the street.

All these delays were interspersed with fellow commuters debarking the bus because they were frustrated with the detours and did not want to deal with this bus. Suffice to say, I was mortified the entire time, and disappointment kept sinking in from the moment the clock started ticking past 7:45 AM, which was my planned time to begin the 5K.

There was nothing I was able to do but follow through and get off at the Embarcadero. I walked to the edge of San Francisco and saw the race starting without me. I observed the cheering, the musicians, and the string of booths for race finishers, where they were handed food and drinks to replenish themselves after a hard run.

I think this feeling, trying hard for something, only for it to be taken away by another thing that's out of your control at the last minute, was quite possibly one of the worst feelings imaginable. Everything that I was in control of, I managed to do. This feeling is almost like science, except I didn't even get the chance to meet success or failure. It's like performing science without ever getting a result, positive or negative.

R&D didn't help either, when he persistently teased me Sunday, and then through lab meeting Monday, when everyone was sitting around the table. It would have been one thing if I had backed out at the last minute. I would have definitely deserved it then. It's one thing to tease someone, but it's another to embarrass them in front of an audience for something that one has no control over. Even if I do make fun of my friends, I would never make them feel worse about themselves intentionally just to hurt their feelings in front of people they know. (I'm actually thinking this through, to make sure my statement isn't a lie...) I suppose the point I want to make is: I've already been hard on myself for the entire ordeal, and I don't need somebody else to make me feel worse about myself. At this point it just comes across as malicious behavior.

To say the least, I haven't felt like talking to him after lab meeting yesterday, except he was using the microscope when I had reserved time for it, and he entered the microscope room later to ask to borrow my ID card, which I fortunately didn't have on me, so I wouldn't have to see him again. Once I took all the pictures I needed to take, I left to return to my apartment because I did not want to deal with him for the rest of the afternoon. Even when he tried to announce aloud that he finally found a person to chair his quals committee, I had no desire to respond.

This morning, people were trying to talk to me, which I was in no mood for, nor did I have a desire to see anybody. R&D had come in during the morning because he had a personal meeting with our PI. I tried to get all my experiments done before they finished talking, so that I could leave for the day, both to avoid him and to focus on my writing.

I am in no mood to deal with my lab, except I have to meet with Dan tonight to discuss my work and future plans. Boring.

The recurring thought in my head is, the longer I stay in this lab, the less I believe in the innate good of people. My hope is that this isn't true.