For the past 3 weeks, I’ve been on a fairly strict mostly-fish-and-vegetable diet to lower my blood pressure, blood sugar, and cholesterol. Before recommending this short-term pretty low-carb diet, my nutritionist asked if I had any races coming up and I truthfully answered “No.” I didn’t mention that I was thinking about this half -- In fact, was thinking so seriously about it that I’d already registered and reserved a hotel room. But I hadn’t really committed. Not that day.
<ding ding ding ding – the railroad crossing warning bell sounds>
I signed up for this race because it was $30, included a medal, and said “walkers welcome” on the web site. It described the course as challenging, but (I told myself) “it was only a half” and I’d done a 9 miler (the Minnie) recently so I should be fine. (Of course, that 9 miler had been the bulk of the training I’d done--period--since January.) I thought Hickory was in the foothills of NC. As I approached the exit for my hotel, I saw a sign that said “Asheville -- 55 miles” and thought, “I had no idea I was so close to the mountains. Maybe I should go to Biltmore after the race.”
<the railroad crossing red lights begin flashing>
Friday night at 9PM, I left my coworkers at the Durham Bulls game to head to Hickory. I wanted to stay longer (because we were having a blast), but I knew it would be midnight before I got to bed as it was – and I’d need to be up no later than 5AM to get to the race site and pick up my packet. But heck, it wasn’t like I hadn’t done a race on very little sleep before. Of course, most folks don’t do their pre-race carbo-loading on a veggie dog and a few nacho chips with extra jalapenos. (Hey, it was the closest thing to vegetables they had!)
<the train horn blows in the distance>
As I approach the start line, two competitors are conversing. “What I hate,” one says, “is that 5-mile uphill where you think you are done and then turn the corner and it goes on and on and on.” I tell myself they are probably talking about another race.
<at this point, even I can see the RR crossing’s guard arms lowering>
The race begins with a long downhill – literally a mile of, if not steep, undeniably notable downhill. Runners in front of me cheered and raised their arms as they sailed down. I’m fairly certain by the first mile marker I had stopped breathing--lungs paralyzed by fear-- because I could only think, “Don’t these people know this is a LOOP course and we’re going to have to come back UP that hill at mile 12?!?!?!”
<I await the inevitable crash and horrifying sound of grinding metal>
I won’t give you a blow-by-blow of the entire race, but suffice it to say I decided early on that I prefer my mountainous scenic overlooks from the window of my car. The wheels started coming off fairly early. I literally got the shakes within the first 2 miles – I assume because I had virtually no glycogen stores. I ate an entire bag of Clif Shot Bloks over the next couple of miles before I started to feel better. (Typically I wouldn’t consume an entire bag during the
whole race.) The middle part of the race was pretty uneventful, but I had to stop three times in the final (uphill) mile because of periodic dizziness.
There’s a tradition among some of my marathoning friends that if you don’t finish a race in one attempt, you are compelled (by honor) to return and finish the race that previously defeated you. At one point as I stopped by the road, I remember telling myself there was no way in H- that is,
no way in the world that I was going to do this again after making it to the last mile. When I stood up and started again, the policeman at the intersection said, “There really is only one more hill, m’am, and then you’re done – there’s less than a quarter of a mile to go.” It was only lack of breath that kept me from blurting, “ANOTHER hill!?!?!?” I did finish – 3:20:something according to the finish line clock.
So, kids, what can we learn from this?
- Food is fuel – and you’d better be tucking into the high octane stuff for a race like this.
- Course elevation charts are a beautiful thing. Barring that, at least check a map of the area.
- Train to avoid pain. And sleep is good too.
- Oh yes. And God really does look after fools and drunks – and since I don’t drink, you know what category I am in.
One aside. The cool thing about this race is that at the 9-mile mark, I actually passed the finish line as a battle between two teenage CC/track stars raged. “Don’t let him do it, Carson! Pick it up!” And Carson, who had just
run up the mile-long uphill that an hour or so later I’d have to stop when
walking up, gathered up his courage and
sprinted to the finish line. Whether or not he edged out his competition, I won’t know until they post the results. But how can you not love a sport like this?