Dawn oozed into the Land of the Sky this morning as I jumped in the bucket and headed for Altamont. Ok, perhaps not jumped as that would be an unwise way to begin the running day. I had awoken at 5:30 – or 5:40 – in order to ingest the proper amount of caffeine and Cliff Bar and meet the day. My Sweet Lady is off working her pipes and Tallulah spent the night at the Lincolns so I was on my own. It was still dark when I made it downtown, but fellow runners were slipping up and down the streets in order to limber up for the day’s running.
As we stood in the starting area, a young woman sang the national anthem in a clear, simple way which brought the usual hubbub of the start to a standstill. We all enjoyed the moment of quiet and reflection before setting off at 7:30 into the foggy morning. Unlike previous races, I was not too shy about getting up toward the front. I’ve grown tired of having to get around very slow runners who start too far forward. Nothing against people who run at a pace different from mine, but in that situation we need to work together. So as we headed down the opening stretch, I was passed by some faster runners and by many who were going out too fast.
As predicted, there was some early carnage on the initial hills, but it seemed like the group was much more local than I had predicted. Not that we run hills better, we just run them more often. It did start to become clear that I would spend the day passing people going up hill only to be passed by them going back down. Fewer and fewer re-caught me on the descent, but others recovered and moved on down the road. Most of the course up to this point was old home turf, so there were few surprises and I tried to just run my own race.
Following the turn past the north lake, just about the time I spied an awesome modern house I had never seen before, we began to climb and descend one of the main ridge lines of Altamont. And then we did it again. And again. The first time was ok, but after the second ascent I was beginning to dread the pounding of the descents as much as the effort of the climbs. Or perhaps actually more. The third climb was, in my humble opinion, not appropriate to include in a race such as this which is publicized as a race that is appropriate for most runners.
Granted, it is a half marathon, in the mountains. And there are events which are clearly for nut jobs. This was not sold as one of those types of events, so it should not act like one. When I got to the top of the climb and the volunteers at the aid station made no indication about the content of their cups (I am picky about not dousing myself with Gatorade) I got a little snippy. What I really needed was about a 3 mile run. Fortunately, there were 3 more miles to the finish.
These miles were over the long slow climb to the finish. Fortunately, we were still under the cover of fog if not shrouded in it. This is the area in which I have broken down before so it was important to me not to be intimidated by the course. There was definitely some time spent in the hurtbag followed by moments of recovery. Yet even on the slopes of the insane last third of a mile, I did not stop. There were some who passed me and some who were passed, but that did not matter nearly as much as finishing.
Crossing the line, I glanced over to see a clock which read “1:50.” Not too shabby, especially on that course. A nice young lady helped remove my chip, a feat I would not have been able to accomplish on my own. One might think that this activity would be enough for one day, but oh no, I still had to pick up Tallulah and both of us were headed to a work function. As soon as I could stand, I proceeded to the car. I walked away still feeling that the course was not appropriate for the race and grumbling at the city and the organizers.
On the way, I passed a downtown church parking lot. In it were a variety of cars and people in them eating pancakes. There were other people milling around some tables and a van with a boom box on top. Some of the group appeared not to have many other options when it came to breakfast. Others looked well fed enough but unused to being awake at this hour on a Saturday. Turns out that a group of the parishioners, some in college and others with grand kids in college, were cooking breakfast for whoever wanted it. I wasn’t in the mood to eat just then, but seeing them immediately shifted my state of mind. While there is nothing wrong with the time, expense, and self-involvement that running takes, there are other, more pressing issues than how a race is marketed.