So if you add these thought with the fact that I had to get up at 4am to drive 2 hours to this road race, you can understand why I was less than enthused about this race. This all changed before the race even started. When I joined the rest of the runners at the starting line, I realized how massive and awe-inspiring a crowd of 10,000 runners truly is. I haven't seen a street this packed with people since the year I spent Mardi Gras on Bourbon Street. It was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement of the event in a group this large.
So there I was standing next my friend Julie and her friend Jerry, three tiny drops in the enormous wave of spandex and running shoes. Having run no farther than 8 miles since 2002, my goal for today was to run the race in 100 minutes, giving me an average pace of 10 min/mile. Julie stated that she was shooting for 9.5 min/miles so I figured if I could hang with her for awhile than I'd have a good time cushion the last few miles.
The race begin....about a minute and half later we cross the staring line (and we were in the front 25% of the runners). Setting a pace was near impossible for the first mile since it took that long for the wave of runners to start spreading out. Jerry had intended on hanging with Julie as well, but Julie didn't want to hold him back so she told him to run his own pace, He disappeared out of sight within 10 seconds. He is a very fast runner.
Right around mile two, I thought I was seeing things when a group of guys offered me coffee and donuts. Who ever heard of coffee and donuts during a race, but the strangeness was not restricted to that one group of guys, during mile three there was another group offering beer. I was dumbfounded until I looked at the houses lining the street, Frat houses. Now everything made sense, so I didn't even bat an eye the next time I saw beer being offered. Not everything offered by the spectators was weird or unwanted. My favorite, by far, was the many people on their front lawns offering to hose you down as you ran by. Those were so nice that I found myself looking for the next one before I was dry from the previous one.
The strangeness of the race helped the first four miles of the race go by fairly easily. And Julies conversation was a good distraction as well. I'm not an avid runner so I never knew how real runners were able to run a determined pace, I just run until my heart threatens to explode then slow down until it only whines. But I think I know Julie's secret. I think she uses her words as a sort of metronome for her stride. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about her continual talking. It was a great distraction after all. I have just never come across anyone that talks so much while running a race.
So like I said the first for miles of the race were pretty easy. Coming up to the mile five marker, however, everything changed. Where in the hell did that hill come from. Julie had warned me about a hill, but I've seen what she calls hills so I was too worried, but this one was indeed something to overcome. At the top of the hill, my hip flexors were voicing their displeasure. “Okay” I thought to myself, “one hill isn't that bad. “You do worse in training.” But after that one big hill came three miles of rolling hills. “WTF, what terrible frustration.”
I'm pretty sure Julie was sharing in my frustration as well. Although I was well on pace to meet and maybe even beat my 10 min/mile goal, she was falling farther and farther from her 9.5. At least I was considerate enough to not take my frustration out on the spectators though. Julie however....
Nice Old Lady Doe, sacrificed her morning to come out and cheer on the thousands of runners as they passed her front yard. The majority of the runners were friendly offering smiles and waves as they went by. Old Lady Doe was enjoying herself when suddenly a woman wearing a pink shirt and a pink hat tossed a cup of water right at her. Old Lady Doe had just had hip surgery three weeks ago so she was not able to leap out of her chair to escape the liquid projectile rocketing towards her. Luckily the pink runner didn't have all over her strength and the cup fell a couple of feet short. After taking a hit from her asthma inhaler, Old Lady Doe, struggle to her feet, her legs trembling with fear. Slowly she made into her house and spent the rest of the day crying in bed.
Julie claims it was an accident but we'll never know the truth...
After the eight mile marker, the ground finally began to level out, but it did it's damage. I reassured Julie that I was trying to ignore but I needed the metal boost from the techno coming from my headphones as I put them in my ears and focused on the final two miles. Mile nine wasn't too bad but that was probably because I had the pleasure of running behind Tarzan's mother, a much older woman wearing nothing but a leopard skin leotard and running shoes. Actually it may have been Tarzan's grandmother.
The tenth mile SUCKED! That final mile hurt so much that I had to constantly fight the alluring whispers suggesting I just walk the rest of the way. It was pure mental fortitude that carried me through that last mile and across the finish line in 98 minutes and 51 seconds.
No matter how much trail and extreme racing I do, I will never underestimate a road race again.
NEXT TIME DRINK THE BEER!!!
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