I haven't run a race in about...oh,
close to two years now. I just reached a point, economically (as in I
didn't have a job) where I could not justify spending up to a hundred
dollars or more on a marathon or a half, and the thought of running a
10K, and spending $50 on it, seemed silly. So, I stopped. I do think
races are a great way to stay motivated, and to challenge oneself,
and if I ever get a decent job again (ha) I'd spend at least some of
my disposable income on races. But for a while, I've just tapered
off. I still run, and barefoot at that, but under the radar, for half
hour or at the most hour chunks.
Until now. Because the Zena Road 15K
here in Salem, OR is only a mere $15 for early sign up. Can't turn
that down. Because I'm american, I'm not quite clear on how long 15K
actually is, but seems like a short half-marathon. So ok. There is
also a 3M run/walk, and a 6M run, neither of which actually goes on
Zena Road, but we're all out in the West Salem area, across the
Willamette (pronounced will-AM-it here in Orygun) up in wine country
(and some hops fields). Nice forested hills. Quiet, except for this
running mob.
I gotta say, the Zena folks know how to
do a race, because we're actually starting at a sane time: 11AM.
Unheard of, but blessed be. So nice to get up normally, lazily, have
breakfast like normal, and some green tea, like normal, waiting for
the fog to lift (which is isn't) for the predicted sunny warm day.
And it is a casual affair. There is a parking lot up the road, with a
bus shuttle, but most folks are parking on the side of the road
nearby. No cops. No roads closed off. I'm not even sure any officials
anywhere know or care this is going on.
The 3M and 6M are out-and-backs,
heading south. Us 15Kers will head north, loop around, and come back
on the same road the lesser beings, the weaklings, are running. And
whoah, we'll head up the biggest hill in the area, right from the
beginning. Ok...We all line up together, just facing in opposite
directions, everyone starting at the same time. After the obligatory
singing of the Star Spangled Banner (the first verse anyway, before
it gets political) some dude with a microphone gives us the ready,
go!
And we go!
Straight up hill. Fortunately for my
ego, I've started in the back, so as not to get passed too much. I
know I will finish this thing, just have no idea in what time, nor,
again, what distance it actually is. Ten miles? Eleven? Nine? But I
haven't run this long in a long time. Still, I have the mental
experience. But man, this hill. It's a 300 feet gain in the first
mile, is what I hear. The road here is nice and smooth. I'm wearing
my VFFs, having been warned that there are gravel roads on this loop.
Because of the hill, the pack stays
fairly grouped together, unfortunately, because, voilà: another
reason I don't like races. Here's a person cranking her iPhone with
her favorite americana oh-so-profound singer, and she's sharing it
with all of us. In the spirit of do-unto-others, I think I'll start
carrying my own phone, and when someone does this, I'll crank up
Slayer and run right next to them for a mile. But, she's faster than
I, and soon leaves me behind, to the quiet streams and birds and
huffing runners.
Still on the uphill, we do indeed hit
the gravel road. And it's the worse kind of gravel: like with a hard
packed dirt and stones, almost pavement (there's probably an ODOT
term for this) with gravel on top of it, so there's no give when you
step on a stone. Even the shod runners don't like this stuff. Well, I
was forewarned. And with VFFs, the gravel is like a foot massage,
right? Right?
One other minor annoyance about races:
when a group or duo lock in behind you, and then talk a lot, and
loud. Ok, well, a good opportunity to stop and take off my
sweatshirt. Sun starting to break through up at this elevation, and
that hill warmed me up. And a bigger good point about races is
in-shape women in tight black running pants. So the pluses outweigh
the minuses.
We peak up on top of the hill, and the
road becomes more mild hilly-like. I'm feeling good, I actually ran
up the hill, didn't walk, and am trying to pace myself. Have been
passed, and most of the pack is ahead of me. Sigh. The loneliness of
the long distance runner. But, it's good. It's good to be in a race
again. I won't 'win,' it's just more of a mutual inspiring, we're all
in this together. And, it's an ancient, primal, reenactment of the
great mammoth hunts, when the whole tribe would get out and run.
Mercifully, the gravel stops, and we
hit some really nice smooth pavement. Can this be the end of all the
gravel? This soon? I think it is. Time to stop and free my soles. And
even now, after years of barefoot running, in races even, there's a
hesitation, a feeling of, 'oh, everyone's going to think I'm weird
now. I should just keep my VFFs and run the whole run this way.'
Like, why do I care? And it's not even about being weird: what is
best for me and my feet? Being barefoot, obviously. So bam, off with
the shoes!
So nice. I love my VFFs, they've served
me well, but running on pavement in them can cause a little soreness
in the heel. I just can't feel anything, so my feet start to go Sarah
Palin on me. Bare, I keep in a healthy stride, nice and short.
We've peaked the hill, and begin a
steep downhill. I do my best Barefoot Ken Bob and let gravity take
me, but don't pass anyone. In fact, a couple lurkers, those who start
way way at the back and reel people in, reel me in.
Down down down, to the intersection
with the actual Zena Road, where cowbell-ringing volunteers direct us
to the left. And, aw, Zena Road is not smooth. Like, at all. The ole
dreaded chip seal. A brief thought (my inner self-doubting Loch Ness
Monster) appears, like, maybe I should just put the VFFs back on. But
I say no Loch Ness Monster! Ye shall not conquer me! It's a matter of
pride. And weirdness. I shall finish the rest of this thing barefoot!
Gotta represent!
Still a mild downhill here. Again, road
not closed off at all. And all the winery visitors are coming out.
Some runners ahead of me accommodate them be running on the road
should, but I say nay, I shall not: The cars must accommodate me!
Schweinhunds!
I am starting to feel 'it.' I'm sore,
though it might be coming more from the tensing up I do during a
race. If I were on my own I'd be all relaxed. There have been mileage
signs, I'm at like Mile 5, or 6, or something, but I'm not sure what
that means. If they do the race in Ks, they should give the mileage
in Ks!
We reach the next intersection, off of
Zena Road. This is where the 6 Milers did their turn around. There's
a water table, and oh yeah, another mild experiment I'm trying, based
on something I read in Christopher MacDougall's last book Natural
Born Heroes: just not drinking water. Or, drinking only if really
thirsty, which I'm not. The idea being that we actually drown
ourselves in water during races, with that whole brainwashing thing
of 'stay hydrated!' which leaves us sloshing. So far, I'm fine. I
didn't drink a lot of water this morning either. So I think this is
an affirmative on that theory.
Ok, so, there must be three more miles
to go. So...I was at six last I saw. Does that mean 15K is only nine
miles?! Is that right?! Well ok. I'm gonna do this.
Except, gosh darn it, this road is even
more chip seal-y than Zena. Argh. Again, the VFF angel briefly lands
on my shoulder and says, 'John, why not put them on? Why suffer for
pride?' But I throw him to my Loch Ness Monster. I do have to admit
though that the road is bad enough to be cutting into my speed. I try
running on the middle line, which helps a little, but the road isn't
closed off, so there are cars, and the road seems to hurt more after
I've been on the paint line, so just staying on it, I get more used
to it. Or, numb to the pain. Something. Grin and bear it. Or, bare
it. Ha ha. Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week!
Also a mild rolling uphill here. And
yeah, I'm feeling it. I'm a little sore and tight. But....not down
and out. Challenging, but not impossible, and in fact in a weird way
this feels good! Good to be pushing my body. I do miss races, this
feeling, the pushing beyond what we think we can do. We all need this
in our lives, whether physically, or even mentally.
I hear the cowbells: must be close. And
yes, there it is, the finish! I do my usual sprint(ish), pumping up
the arms and finishing strong. Yes, even on the chip seal. Just grr
over it, the pain won't last, and in fact the pain goes away with the
adrenaline. People cheering, even my fellow 3M running companions who
have been patiently waiting for me to finish. I actually have to
zigzag around a couple of 3M walkers who are just finishing. Wow.
Bam. Done. Did it! 1:35. I have no idea
if that is good or slow. I suspect slow. But ok, I'm good with that.
And I even built some weird cred with the crowd by finishing bare. As
in, 'that dude's crazy!' As far as I can tell, I'm the only one who
even wore minimalist footwear.
Zena 15K: good race! We need more of
these cheaper races!
(photos of me running courtesy of Alex P. Thanks Alex!)
