So, yeah, sorry about the cleavage-ish shot on the March header but I got our official race pictures in and well, I think it's time to start telling the story.
From the beginning.
Because, if I'm going to get a book deal out of this, we need to start from the beginning, right?
Or how about RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE.
MJ and I trained for the San Antonio Rock-n-Roll for months - carefully planned, although sometimes hungover, we completed our tempo runs during the week and headed out separately on the weekends for long runs, taking turns with IV duty.
We left out for San Antonio on Saturday morning, stopped at the Mens Warehouse for MJ to get fitted for his "ghetto" suit for Higgins' wedding. Talked to the Doggetts on the phone and moaned and groaned to them about being too wasted from Mike D's birthday party to come and race with us. We set out on I-10 west, our normal road trip routine of music and mandatory 42 dominos on the iPhone, an inaugural stop at THE OFFICIAL BUCK-EES for sandwiches and water and gas.
Once in SA, we headed straight for the Alamodome to get our race packets - THE ALAMODOME.
That's how many people were running the R-n-R - it was a madhouse, a big trade show of goos and gels and shoes and thousands of people.
My corral, number eighteen: 25 people in line.
MJ's corral, number five: 0 people in line.
We joked about him being in a corral that was full of people from Kenya, about Elise bumping herself to corral number TWO from corral number THIRTY FOUR and the looks she would get from the other runners. We picked up our shirts and ran into friends from THE ROCK! Who knew?! We were in close corrals and would maybe see each other the next day!
MJ and I loaded up at the trade show on samples and granola bars and drinks...and then headed to the Bonnins' house to settle in for the night and eat some dinner.
I had never met Andy Bonnin before - one of MJ's longtime friends from growing up, one of "The Boys" as I refer to them. We pulled up and Andy, Jenn and Lucas were kicking a ball in the front yard. Lucas instantly was drawn to MJ, a gift he has for being a kid favorite...we made plans for dinner, met with friends for pasta and swung by the grocery store for breakfast food.
Race day started with MJ and I hopping into our clothes and on the road...we had reservations at the Holiday Inn Tropicana on the Riverwalk, for my birthday, and we parked the car out front. It was 6:30 AM and the front hotel lobby was filled with racers - MJ and I split a banana, ate some raisins and downed water like crazy.
And we made our meet up plan.
The parking lot at the finish line at the Alamodome had large letters - easy, pick a letter and meet. We chose "E" for "Elizabeth" and decided to meet there. Specific instructions were made for MJ to NOT leave the letter "E" because there would be no way for me to find him amongst 30,000 plus racers.
We made our way to the starting line. We made a pit stop at the porta-potties. Standing in line, I asked him "Are you nervous?" and he said "YES!"
"Why? I think I'm just anxious..." I responded.
MJ shrugged.
"I'm not sure! Just am." he replied.
We walked toward our corrals.
We kissed.
He said "I love you."
I said "I love you. Run fast."
And then I tried to high five him.
And he gave me "the look" that I know all too well, the look that says "dork woman, I will not high five you in the privacy of our own home, nevertheless in front of 30,000 competitive racers."
And I laughed and we kissed again and parted ways.
I timed him, one half of my mind on his start time, one half of my mind on my polar watch, keeping track of us both.
The race went by so fast and so slow at the same time.
My feeling for most of the race? Wistful that we hadn't run it together. So many funny signs, funny people, bands, music, dogs, babies - so much to share with one another.
My favorite signs:
"Your legs are tired from kicking so much ASS!"
"I thought you said 2.62 miles...?!?"
"You're running and we're DRUNK!" (not kidding, these people were also handing out Heineken at 8 AM)Around mile 6, I started seeing signs for "Team Banana" on the side of the road.
Team Banana?
Then I started seeing the peels in the road.
And suddenly, I came upon a group of 50 people DRESSED LIKE GORILLAS.
HANDING OUT BANANAS.
I have no idea, apparently marathons bring out the crazy train, folks.
My legs started breaking down about a mile out from the finish...just heavy, tired, spent.
As we rounded the Alamodome, I saw the path in front of me: STRAIGHT UPHILL, up an ON RAMP INTO THE DOME.
Are you serious?
I put on the afterburners and passed everyone in sight - I just wanted to cross the finish line.

As I stepped over the line and checked my time, I made the sign of the cross, grabbed a medal and a water towel and ran straight for the letter "E" - I couldn't wait to tell MJ my time, he was going to be really proud of me. He would never admit that, but he would be.
I sat down at "E."
I loosened my laces.
I wiped the sweat off my face.
I drank a bottle of water.
I searched and scanned the crowd for him.
I checked my watch.
I checked the letter "E."
Were there other letter "E's?" Surely not. That would defeat the point. Right?
I didn't know.
I waited.
And waited.
I saw Elise.
"Where is MJ?!?" she asked.
I had no idea. Had he seen someone we knew? Had he gone after a celebratory beer?
We had no contingency plan. "E" was our only plan.
I didn't know what to do. I was upset, emotional, lost in a sea of people hugging and triumphing and bleeding from blisters. I had NO idea where I was in relation to our hotel. Miles away.
No phone.
Nothing.
After an hour of sitting, I decided to head for the hotel and check my phone. Maybe he had decided to check in. And then I would punch him in the face for leaving me.
Dejected and holding my little finisher medal, I started walking.
And I will never forget what happened next - like a fish swimming upstream, amidst hundreds of people lining the sidewalks, I marched, mad, upset, scared.
A man stopped me dead in my tracks. God grabbed me by both arms and said to me:
"You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen."
And then He walked away.
It was something MJ said to me often. Those exact words. Exact tone. It was a sign. My nerves shot through me like ice. I walked faster.
I asked policemen for directions to the hotel - "you should take a cab honey, it's a long walk!" they responded.
"I just finished running a marathon, I think I can handle a few more miles..." I quipped back.
I felt very alone. God, I can remember that feeling so clearly. Staring down at the street grates and curbs as they flew under my feet. I knew something was so very, very wrong.
The hotel lobby had not heard from MJ. He hadn't checked in.
I went to the car to call my Mom.
And on the iPhone screen, I had two missed called from a San Antonio number.
And 20 missed calls from MJ's parents.
....
Brenda was hysterical. They were already on the road, heading to San Antonio.
My heart raced and I stopped the first cop I saw directing traffic. Thankfully I was less than 2 miles from the hospital.
My voice was shaking as much as my legs as I tore through the streets and called my mom, the one person I always reach for when things go south.
"Lizzie, you need to take a deep breath, focus." she instructed me.
I ran for the Emergency Room - the recpetionist was expecting me.
"I am trying to find someone just admitted, Michael Biron." I cried.
And a kind man grabbed my arm - "I know where you need to go, and I"ll take you," he told me.
We stepped into the elevator.
"I don't want to alarm you, but I'm a chaplain and a nurse here - but that's not why I grabbed you. I PROMISE."
I immediately burst into tears.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Rhett. MJ's nurse and probably one of the many, but most, important people who saved MJ's life.
Rhett took me to the cath lab, where MJ was undergoing a heart cathater, checking for clots and blockage. The techs came to get me when they wheeled him out. Oh my God, seeing him for the first time. It was all I could do to not grab him and hold him. He was unconscious and motionless. I held his hand and kissed him and the Cardiologist, Dr. Nguyen, pulled me aside as they took him to ICU.
He explained to me that Michael suffered from a cardiac arrest. He did not know why. It took the medic team 6 shocks from the AED to restart his heart. While he was down, MJ's brain went without precious oxygen. There could be mild to severe brain damage - and only time would tell. A hypothermia protocol was ordered for MJ for the next 24 hours to reduce the likelihood of brain damage due to the lack of oxygen. Rhett, one of the most specialized and respected ICU nurses, would be in charge of MJ's care during the protocol.
I sat down on the waiting room floor with Rhett, a heap of sweaty running clothes and shaky hands. My race number was still pinned to me. I started making calls.
First to IV's father, to make a plan for IV.
Second, to my parents. I know when I need my mom.
Third, to MJ's parents. I couldn't bring myself to tell them what Dr. Nguyen had just told me - only that I had seen MJ, and that he was headed to ICU where I would be waiting for him.
.....
My friend Grace told me to hit my knees.
I hit them harder than I ever had before in my life.
When it comes to this man, I am shameless.
I will beg, I will plead, I will give God anything He asks of me. I will ask anyone for anything if it means a chance for MJ.
Sister Andrena Mulligan, a chaplain who would become a source of strength and power for me at Christus Santa Rosa told me:
"Those who truly hit the bottom...who reach down and touch the very baseline of life...those are the ones who recognize redemption much faster, Liz."
My oh my, how we hit it.