1,052nd Place.

God has been very good to me and has entrusted me with many gifts including the ability to play sports. I was kicking a soccer ball from the time I was able to walk and played from pee-wee through my first year at Mater Dei High School. I began playing basketball when I was in elementary school and still try to play once in a while. I even tried baseball for a couple of years and a year of football. Throughout the years I accumulated a lot of trophies, many of them for 1st place.

Now that I am a priest it is very hard to play team sports because I work weekends, have meetings most evenings of the week, and have one day off - a weekday, of course. A priest's schedule doesn't seem to have much of a rhythm to it. Sometimes I have morning Mass other times I have the evening Mass; sometimes I have a funeral, emergency sick calls, people who just come in want to talk to a priest etc... In the seminary it was easy to get a group of guys together to play basketball or soccer. Now it is almost impossible.

So, being a new priest I have had to find new ways to exercise and have fun. This isn't just a matter of recreation but of physical, mental and spiritual health. I'm not much of a gym-kind-of -guy. So what I had difficulty figuring out was what to do. I tried jogging but found it to be rather boring. It might be a little more tolerable if I could find someone to jog with but this seems to be impossible given my unpredictable schedule. Finding no alternative, I jog. But then something happened that changed everything.

My sister-in-law, knowing that I was jogging (though not seriously), told me she had signed us both up to run a half marathon. http://www.memorialhalfmarathon.com/index.php Umm, that's 13.1 miles! I was inconsistently jogging about 3 miles a few days a week. Well, she had already signed me up so I figured I better get busy training. I started jogging consistently 4 days a week perhaps 3-5 miles each time and had about 10 weeks to train.

My pastor graciously agreed to celebrate the morning Mass for me the day of the race so that I could participate. I was a bit nervous - I'd never run a race before and my sister-in-law had to cancel because of a surgery. So, I jogged alone.

I woke up at 5:45am, ate breakfast, stretched a little and drove to Laguna Hills. I parked my car and picked up my bib and a required GPS device to put on my shoe to prevent cheating, and to track the runner's time. What surprised me at once was the variety of people that were there - all ages, sizes, and shapes. http://www.brightroom.com/view_event_photos.asp?EVENTID=18442&PWD When the race began I waited for the crowd of runners to start first and then I crossed the starting line with those in the back. The next thing that surprised me was how slow people were jogging. It was actually hard and somewhat unnatural trying to keep their slow pace especially because I’m 6’3”, but I did.

At one point I looked in front of me and saw a lady in her late 40's who had a hat on backwards that said "yeah I'm slow but you're behind me" Ouch! It was true though. There were various small groups of runners who belonged to a runner's club called A Snail's Pace. What bothered me was that they too were in front of me. Isn't there something wrong or unethical about that? Shouldn't they be required to run at a snail's pace? And if they're running at a snail's pace and I am behind them, what pace am I running at? 11 miles to go.

Looking back on the event I realize I didn't pick the best venue to begin my racing career. The race took place in Laguna Hills. The name should have clued me in that there just may be...HILLS. Isn't 13.1 miles enough? Now I have to jog up hills - you've got to be kidding me. What did help me was the fact that quitting was not an option. This is not a reflection of my courage or determination to finish the race. Rather, finishing the race was the quickest and only non-humiliating way to get back to my car!

At mile four I was doing alright, probably because I was still keeping the slow place of those around me. I had no idea what a "good pace" was anyway. I trusted they knew more about running than I did. It was at this point that I looked to my right and across the ravine I saw the runners at the front of the race. They were at mile 10 and running - really running, not jogging. How? I just told myself that their bodies must be different than mine. What else could explain it?

At mile six I was pleased with myself for still being able to jog. Six miles was the farthest I had ever jogged during my "training". I was sweating and feeling sore already. After all, I had just jogged 6 miles and some of that was uphill! Then a little depression set in. "I'm not ever halfway done", I said to myself. “Oh well, step by step, it’s the only way to my car.”

A little later the course started to curve at which point I became aware for the first time that there were actually people behind me. Huh!?! I hadn't thought about that. I passed a man in his 60's jogging with a large American flag - pole included. In case that wasn't enough, he was barefoot!!!

I grabbed water every 2 miles trying to figure out how to jog and drink at the same time - not easy. Some of it ended up in my eye, some of it went up my nose, and I choked on the rest. It was not one of my most graceful moments. But, then again, I wasn't going for graceful. Heck, I wasn't trying to compete. My goal was simple: survival. As if praying the rosary I chanted in a mumbling voice "I ...must... get...back... to... my...car." (pant, pant).

I remember seeing the 8 mile marker and I couldn't believe it. Eight miles! I had NEVER run 8 miles before. I had just jogged for 1 hour and 30 minutes non-stop. Well, the hills - as in Laguna Hills - returned. My heart cursed me in no uncertain terms; my muscles were mad and fighting against me, begging me to stop. I had the advice of a friend ringing in my ears - "don't stop" just keep running. I began my jog up the hill (the distinction between hills and mountains seemed so minuscule) and I found myself at a walking pace. I was jogging but my body wasn't. I think I can, I think I can. NO WAY! My options became simple – have a heart attack or stop. I stopped.

A sense of failure and defeat crossed my mind while my body took revenge on me! I squatted down to stretch my legs and bend my knees. When I attempted to get up I felt like I was squatting 1,000 pounds and drunk at the same time. My legs were very wobbly. I continued to walk up the hill as fast as I could. I had to get to my car. For the first time people began to steadily pass me - including old people. How are they still jogging, I asked myself?

I walked the next two miles (8-10) and then alternated between walking and jogging the following 2 miles (10-12). The mile markers came slower and slower. I know this makes mathematical sense - the slower one goes the longer it takes to reach a mile - but it was exhausting mentally as well as physically. At every turn I thought "the mile marker must be right around this corner". But it never was.

Finally: mile 12; only 1.1 miles to go. I sucked up all the energy and will I had left in me and jogged the rest of the way. I could hear the crowd at the finish line, though I couldn't see them. The last stretch to the finish line was up another hill; I called it Calvary. I ran up the hill and through the finish line. Ahhhhh. I immediately stopped my stopwatch: 1 hour and 20 minutes. I did it! I was so thankful. I thanked God about 1,000 times, sat on the ground, stretched, then ate a banana and drank some water.

After waiting a few weeks for the results to be posted on the internet I went on line to see how I did. Did the official time agree with my stopwatch? How did I do in comparison to the other runners? I scrolled down the list. I scrolled down some more and more and more from 1st place downwards looking for my name or bib number. I couldn't find it. There were 1,417 runners! I nervously searched again and finally: Brendan Manson of La Habra, bid #1111. I came in 1,052nd place! (No, that is not a typo: One thousand fifty second place.) http://results.active.com/uploads/txt/44837.txt

Wow. I've never been in 1,052nd place before but I couldn't be more proud nor grateful. My medal - yes, you get a medal for 1,052nd place - hangs on my bulletin board in my office. Also, I have intentionally never reset my stopwatch either. It still reads: 2:20:59.

For more pics: http://www.brightroom.com/view_user_event.asp?EVENTID=18442&PWD=&BIB=1111

Some observations from the race:

-I couldn't have finished the race if I hadn't kept the very slow pace of those around me. Had I tried to go at my pace I would have burnt out and perhaps injured myself.
- One man's snail pace is another man's jogging pace.
- Running is as much a mental sport as it is a physical one.
- Determination will carry you a long way, even barefoot.
- There's no such thing as too old.
- Take one mile at a time.
- Pray before, during and after the race.
- What will I do when it hurts? Run or stop?
- I never ever thought I could finish a half marathon (13.1 miles) in a respectable time, but I did. - Will I start training for the L.A. marathon in March? 26.2 miles! It too seems impossible.
- Things are usually easier when you do them with others.