A Tribute to Dia Oi

I've been an emotional train wreck for the past few weeks. Things have just unfolded so quickly that I've barely had the chance to catch my breath and come to terms with reality. I've had such a hard time with this that I thought, although this is something extremely personal, maybe openly writing down my memories about how much my aunt meant to me and getting my feelings out might help me deal with this loss. This post is dedicated to Dia Oi:

From the moment I was born, I was put in the care of Dia Oi as my parents worked long and hard hours to make ends meet. Even when I started school, I was there before and after school and all throughout the summer. I remember all the times I spent with my cousins there and how the basement was converted into a playroom for us. I remember how my sister and I used to steal the Disney band-aids from her upstairs bathroom and she would never say anything and just buy us more. And of course, I will never forget our trips to the Dorsey's Search Village Center across the street. I loved when she took us to Giant to buy a French baguette because she would always let me buy my favorite candy bar and sometimes gave me coins for the toy machines. I particularly remember one time when she babysat my cousins Amy, Nancy, and Sandy and saw how much we were enjoying the 10 cent bouncy balls and exchanged several more dollars to let us get more and didn't even yell at us when we bounced them all over her house. Other times, she would take us to Party! Party! Party! or the ever-changing fast-food joint at the end of the village center, which changed from Hardee's to Roy Rogers to McDonald's through the course of my childhood. Even with her limited English, she was never afraid to take us out. She'd even shake her head at the cashier to tell them they miscalculated her change at Giant and figured out the Howard County Transit bus system, so she could find her own means to go to the Columbia Mall. I remember randomly running into her at the mall a couple times and wondering how the heck she got herself there because I sure as hell didn't know how to use the Howard County Transit (and still don't)!

As we got older and no longer needed babysitting, Dia Oi would keep in touch with us by occasionally inviting us out to eat at places like Pizza Hut, Bertucci's, Olive Garden, Cheesecake Factory, and sushi. She didn't even like those places and hardly ever ate anything there but never complained because she just wanted to spend time with us. Often times, she didn't even say much and just sat back and watched us cousins converse with each other. Dia Oi was a woman of few words, but don't ever let that fool you. It may have looked like she wasn’t engaged in the conversation, but that’s because she was too busy observing. She had an amazing memory and always knew what everyone liked to eat and drink at any restaurant.

Over the last few years, my mom started inviting her and Dia My over for dinner on Sundays and/or Mondays. I remember coming home from work and seeing her Old Navy flip flops at the door and smiling as I walked inside. She knew that my sister, dad, and I liked to drink diet soda and often came with a can for each of us. It was her attention to detail and all the little things she did that meant so much and were so special to me. And I knew quite a bit about Dia Oi myself. I knew she always wanted the right side back seat of the car, which is also my favorite spot. Whenever we picked Dia Oi up to go somewhere, I always joked with my parents that "Awww man, I had to give up my spot but would only willingly give it up for her because I would do anything for Dia Oi." I always thought it was odd how enthusiastic and willing I was to pick her up and take her home from anywhere. But now that I think of it, there are very few people in this world that you can say have never once pissed you off. I can say that about Dia Oi because she has never been anything but caring and loving towards me. I always felt a special sort of bond with her that no one in the world could ever replace. She was my second mother.

This summer, I was lucky to be able to spend a lot of quality one-on-one time with her, as I worked part-time for a brief period and helped my mom and aunts out by taking her to a few doctor appointments. I remember one specific time when my mom had her own doctor appointment and we were waiting for her to finish, so we could meet up for lunch. She asked me to take her to Walmart to waste time, specifically requesting the Ellicott City location even though we were in Catonsville at the time because the Catonsville one was no good according to her. As soon as we got inside, she told me to look around wherever I wanted and that she'd find me later. I decided to buy another pair of leggings and when she came back to me with two packages of Ramen, she grabbed the leggings and insisted on buying them for me. I briefly fought her for a moment but gave in to her, knowing it made her happy to be able to do something for me. She then proceeded to ask me why I was buying such tight, ugly pants, to which I tried to explain the concept of leggings to her. She still didn't understand my fashion sense and just shoved money in my hand and told me to get her chicken McNuggets, one of her favorite foods. Later that day, when she was leaving my house to go home, she pulled the crinkled Walmart receipt out of her pocket and handed it to me, saying in Vietnamese, "Here. In case the pants are too tight."

Seeing her deteriorating health condition over the recent months has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure, especially when she was hospitalized. Her mind was still as sharp as ever, casually asking me if I had worked today every time I came in to visit her. Us kids would joke with her, asking her when she was going to take us to Pizza Hut and she would just honestly answer that she wasn't healthy enough. Her body was failing her in every way possible and I felt so helpless. I found myself just wanting to spend more and more time with her. We didn't exchange many words, but I felt so comfortable just sitting there and being with her. I fell into a routine of work, hospital, and sleep. I dragged myself to work everyday wanting nothing more than to leave and be by her side. I had such a hard time pulling myself from the hospital room, scared that every time I said bye to her, it would be the last time I'd see her. I held my breath every time I answered the phone from my mom or aunts. I tried very hard to hold it together when I was with her because I knew it would make her sad to see me crying over her. But I cried myself to sleep every night, knowing I was losing her to that evil "c" word and wondering why she doesn't get to live another 20 years into her 80's like both of my grandmothers. She always hated taking pictures and would swat us kids away when we tried to snap a pic with her. In February at Vi's going away party, a few of my cousins and I subjected her to photos and for once, she complied. It kills me to look at those photos and know it was only 8 short months ago. Even passing the hospital yesterday brought on an outburst of tears. All I wanna do is sit by her side again.

My cousin put into words so well something I've been feeling all along: "Even though Dia Oi and I never said 'I love you,' we knew that when we said goodbye to each other, that 'goodbye' really meant 'I love you.'" When everyone got a chance to say their final goobyes to Dia Oi before they took her away, most of them brought up a couple memories or thanked her for her presence in their lives. All I could muster was "Bye Dia Oi."

Dia Oi, I love and miss you so much! You mean the world over to me.

Steamtown Marathon - 10/10/10

Pre-Marathon:

I was pretty excited about running the Steamtown Marathon in Scranton, PA this year because: 1) it was going to be my first marathon away from home that I had to stay over for; 2) most of my XMP pace group was also running it; and 3) the course was mostly downhill and flat, which would make it easier to qualify for Boston. However, I faced a major setback in my training in late August that caused me to scrap all plans of potentially BQing at any race this fall. A calf strain caused me to take the better half of September off and run really easy for all of the races I participated in. October was here before I knew it and I didn't really know what to expect of my still-recovering leg.

Hai, Chris, and I left on Saturday morning for the 4-hour drive to Scranton. We arrived at the expo and picked up our race packets. Nothing too exciting there, but I am glad that races are giving away less and less junk these days because I always chuck everything after a quick sift through for useful coupons or try to convince my dad that he could really use another free cup, fan, frisbee, pen, etc. Next, we checked into the Holiday Inn, a decent hotel except for the fact that they made us wait over an hour for our room and didn't give us towels until after 8 pm. I did, however, enjoy the ginormous jacuzzi.

We had planned to carb-load at Olive Garden, but after driving by and seeing over 50 people crowd the front door and realizing that every other marathoner had the same idea in mind, we opted for TGI Fridays down the street instead. No wait and we still got pasta!

Race Day:

I had a good night's rest but was tossing and turning by 3 AM. We got up at 4:30 AM, had our Panera bagels that we bought the night before, and was out the door by 5:15 AM. We boarded the buses at the finish line that shuttled us 45 minutes up to the starting line. It was 31 degrees at the time, but luckily we got to wait inside a high school until the start time. I can honestly say I have never seen such enthusiastic teenagers at 6:30 AM in my life. These kids were running around offering us water, directing us to bathrooms, chanting "Go Runners!" If there was one thing this race definitely had down, it was the volunteer support. Advertising 3000 volunteers for a race field limited to 2500 runners, there was never a moment before, throughout, or after the race that you couldn't find aid if needed. The aid stations were also very well-organized, so that there was not a lot of congestion and it was very clear where to go for gatorade vs. water.

After meeting up with friends in the school gymnasium, we all shuffled out into the cold, brisk air to the starting line. A very loud cannon fired to signal the race start and we were off. I used mile 1 to gauge how much I would be able to push it today. The answer was "not very much" and I spent the next 25.2 miles holding on for dear life.

If there's one thing I learned at Steamtown, it's to never take the diffculty of a race for granted, no matter how experienced you are. This was by far the most physically and mentally draining marathon I have ever ran, more so than even my first marathon. I kept a slow and comfortable pace to save my still-recovering calf, but it was mentally draining to not be able to push at maximum effort because of the pain that it would induce. After many months of hard training, I no doubt had the energy and fitness level to complete the race, just not the legs. I spent most of the race thinking "I hate you legs, especially you left calf!" I felt even more discouraged later on in the race when the rest of my perfectly functioning muscles began to fatigue and become sore. With 4 marathons already in the books, I was still surprised at mile 20 with the realization that "Holy $#@%! Marathons hurt!"

When time isn't so much a factor, I end up paying a lot more attention to my surroundings, using anything to distract me from the physical and mental pain that I am enduring. Usually, I don't pay too much attention to the crowds because rarely is there ever anyone there that is personally cheering me on, but today I did. And I can honestly say that their enthusiasm actually helped boost my morale. While most people held personal posters cheering on their loved ones, there were a few funny ones. My favorite was "Runners have balls, everyone else just plays with them!" Other good ones included "Keep it up! (That's what she said!)," "Chuck Norris never ran a marathon," and "Beat Oprah's time!" Early on in the race, there was an old man standing off to the side of the road playing some funky music. He looked so out of place, but I have a soft spot for old people and couldn't help but smile. When I passed him and he asked me how the music was, I gave him a huge thumbs-up just to make his day.

When I wasn't using the crowd to distract me, I had to give myself a mental pep talk to push through the pain. This wasn't like National Marathon where the miles were just clicking off without me realizing it. I paid attention to every mile, every half-mile, every 1/10th of a mile. I knew I couldn't look at the big picture and just had to get through my current mile. At the JFK 50, counting down to my next walking break or the next aid station worked to get me through each mile. So today, I convinced myself to get to mile 16, so that I could start counting single digit miles down. After I passed the 16 mile marker, I convinced myself to push to 18 and then there'd only be 2 more miles to the big 20. When I hit 20 and was mentally drained by the thought of another 10K (1+ hour of running), I kept telling myself that it's better to have 20 miles behind and 6.2 miles in front than the other way around. I finally made it to "Heartbreak Hill" and down the final stretch to the finish line, clocking in a time of 4:29:16.

Although this is my personal worst marathon time so far, I was proud of my mental resilience. There were so many points in the race that I just felt defeated and wanted to cry because my physical condition was holding me back, but I kept my composure, put on a smile, and pushed through. The other bright side to this marathon experience is that I didn't experience any stomach issues throughout the duration of the race and think I've finally figured out how to fuel myself properly for a marathon.