When I signed up for this race back in April, I did not realize two important things. First, that it was going to be in the middle of World Cup. And even worse than losing 9 soccer matches, it was the fact that one of those matches would be Brazil playing against a very tough Ivory Coast.
A moment of panic. What do I do? I do not think it would be cool to bail out a week or two before the race, right? With no alternative left, I just had to bite the bullet. I was going to rely on my iPhone and friends texting me to keep me up to date on what was happening in the soccer world.
So last weekend I found myself going up to Vermont with a bunch of strangers plus Robert and running being the only thing in common among us. I was runner #11 and was slated some of the hardest rated legs in the relay, including infamous leg #23 - a long, steep and steady climb over 4 miles in the middle of the night.
If you know me well, you know one thing I am good at is denial. It was only a couple of weeks before the race that I actually printed out course descriptions to realize what actually I was expected to accomplish. To make matters worse, since being a New York runner few are the chance to run hills much less the kind I was going to be facing in Vermont.
Blissfully unaware, I was ready as I could be. First leg was the longest I would run at 9.9 miles and it had a gentle, long climb in the middle, ending with a descent. This ended up being my most satisfying run of the weekend. It was early evening and by then temperature was optimal for running. Running on the Vermont roads was quiet and pleasant with only occasional cars. The middle climb turned out to be fine and in no time I found myself running downhill. I had to control myself not to go too fast and avoid tumbling down. In the end I ran the first leg with an average of 6:35 minute miles.
A few hours later and in the middle of the evening, here I was ready to take on the second leg. It would be a night of firsts. First time running with a reflective vest, headlamp and at 2 o'clock in the morning. The more I thought about it, the more anxious I got. A teammate was not helping matters by telling me that I should have no problem overtaking a runner that was about to start ahead of me -- "can you just shut up" was what I was thinking. And he was right, within the first mile I had already passed 3 runners. I worried I started too strongly and would nothing left later on the run. The steep first part of the climb was as expected tough and but to make matters worse also lonely. There was an occasional van, but no other runner in sight. I was gasping for air when I caught up with my van. They gave me some water, but I could not avoid walking a few hundred yards. By the time I started the second part of the climb I was feeling much better. I was, ironically, glad that a runner was fast approaching me and would overtake me (the only time all weekend long) soon. At least I would not be alone going up the last couple of miles. He would steadily increase his lead, but seeing the little light bouncing up and down pulled me along. I had no time to think of the pain and walking again was not an option. 7:41 was my average pace and, boy, was I happy it was over.
We could only afford less than 90 minutes of sleep until we our van was on again. My last leg seemed on paper the easiest one. I had high hopes for it, but from the start my tummy did not feel well. It was some sort of stomach cramp that coupled with climbing humidity and sleep deprivation, proved to make this run frustrating. I just went with the motions and was looking forward to the exchange. 6:51 pace was at least 30 seconds slower than I had intended to run this portion, but at that point I was just glad I was done.
It was an incredible weekend. The running was amazingly tough and beautiful. My teammates were kind, patient and supportive. I arrived home tired and filthy, but satisfied. And Brazil defeated Ivory Coast 3-1.
A moment of panic. What do I do? I do not think it would be cool to bail out a week or two before the race, right? With no alternative left, I just had to bite the bullet. I was going to rely on my iPhone and friends texting me to keep me up to date on what was happening in the soccer world.
So last weekend I found myself going up to Vermont with a bunch of strangers plus Robert and running being the only thing in common among us. I was runner #11 and was slated some of the hardest rated legs in the relay, including infamous leg #23 - a long, steep and steady climb over 4 miles in the middle of the night.
If you know me well, you know one thing I am good at is denial. It was only a couple of weeks before the race that I actually printed out course descriptions to realize what actually I was expected to accomplish. To make matters worse, since being a New York runner few are the chance to run hills much less the kind I was going to be facing in Vermont.
Blissfully unaware, I was ready as I could be. First leg was the longest I would run at 9.9 miles and it had a gentle, long climb in the middle, ending with a descent. This ended up being my most satisfying run of the weekend. It was early evening and by then temperature was optimal for running. Running on the Vermont roads was quiet and pleasant with only occasional cars. The middle climb turned out to be fine and in no time I found myself running downhill. I had to control myself not to go too fast and avoid tumbling down. In the end I ran the first leg with an average of 6:35 minute miles.
A few hours later and in the middle of the evening, here I was ready to take on the second leg. It would be a night of firsts. First time running with a reflective vest, headlamp and at 2 o'clock in the morning. The more I thought about it, the more anxious I got. A teammate was not helping matters by telling me that I should have no problem overtaking a runner that was about to start ahead of me -- "can you just shut up" was what I was thinking. And he was right, within the first mile I had already passed 3 runners. I worried I started too strongly and would nothing left later on the run. The steep first part of the climb was as expected tough and but to make matters worse also lonely. There was an occasional van, but no other runner in sight. I was gasping for air when I caught up with my van. They gave me some water, but I could not avoid walking a few hundred yards. By the time I started the second part of the climb I was feeling much better. I was, ironically, glad that a runner was fast approaching me and would overtake me (the only time all weekend long) soon. At least I would not be alone going up the last couple of miles. He would steadily increase his lead, but seeing the little light bouncing up and down pulled me along. I had no time to think of the pain and walking again was not an option. 7:41 was my average pace and, boy, was I happy it was over.
We could only afford less than 90 minutes of sleep until we our van was on again. My last leg seemed on paper the easiest one. I had high hopes for it, but from the start my tummy did not feel well. It was some sort of stomach cramp that coupled with climbing humidity and sleep deprivation, proved to make this run frustrating. I just went with the motions and was looking forward to the exchange. 6:51 pace was at least 30 seconds slower than I had intended to run this portion, but at that point I was just glad I was done.
It was an incredible weekend. The running was amazingly tough and beautiful. My teammates were kind, patient and supportive. I arrived home tired and filthy, but satisfied. And Brazil defeated Ivory Coast 3-1.
2 comments:
AN, thank you SO MUCH for not dumping us for the World Cup! I for one was thrilled you ran with us (Go Serbia!). You were an invaluable member of the team, and I hope you will come back to show Leg 23 who's boss next year.
I'm glad you missed the games to come run with us too. It was great having you up there. Next year, you'll know what to expect more and maybe be able to run your third leg stronger. But then again, this was my third relay and I still screwed it all up...
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