Non-Runners Don’t Get It…But That’s Important To Remember.

Most runners will have read by now the recent opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal by Chad Stafko entitled, “OK, You’re a Runner. Get Over It.” The tagline of his article states the thesis of his piece: “Running a marathon is hard enough without patting yourself on the back every step of the way.” This article has been passed around the country by indignant and often irate runners by e-mail, through social media, and on countless blogs. Many runners have lashed out at Mr. Stafko. A few more patient running advocates have invited him to join the running culture hoping to change his somewhat bitter tone. With apologies to the Bard, I come not to bury Mr. Stafko, but to understand him.

One of the premises of his piece is that runners do what they do in order to draw attention to themselves and their accomplishments. Stickers bearing the numbers 26.2 and 13.1 or t-shirts bearing the name of some completed race serve to announce to everyone that, “I am a runner. Look at me!” Mr. Stafko is even annoyed by the mere sight of runners out on the street. Their very presence, and possibly their very existence, is enough to, well, cause him to write to the Wall Street Journal out of frustration.

I am not going to go through a point-by-point rebuttal of his article. There are enough of those responses already in print and on the web. (My favorites are from Dane Rauschenberg, Lauren Fleshman, and Mario Fraioli.) My point is not that Mr. Stafko is wrong (he is wrong about runners and their motivations with almost every word). My point is to understand why he thinks the way he does. Why does Mr. Stafko (and the countless others like him) hold these opinions about Runners?

If we stop to think about it, we all surely know someone like Mr. Stafko. We all have someone in our lives who does not understand why we run: the curmudgeonly co-worker, the rankled relative, or the fractious friend. They are the ones who call us “crazy.” They are the ones who say we will ruin our knees. They are the ones who just don’t get it. And no matter how much we show them how much fun we are having or how good it feels to run, all they can see is how early we have to get up or how far we make ourselves run or how much we sweat. They are the ones who “tried it once and didn’t like it” or the ones who claim “I could never do that.” And no amount of persuasion or argument will get them to see otherwise. They are the Permanent Non-Runners.

Another faction of people out there are the Former Runners. These are people who, for whatever reason, have given up running. Some have chosen another means of exercise; some have been injured and can no longer run; some have simply given up or given in. The attitudes of Former Runners may vary. They may remember with fondness the feel of the road under foot. Or they may carry resentment toward Runners who continue to enjoy what they no longer can.

Every so often among the throng of Non-Runners you will stumble across a Future Runner, a current non-runner who is open to the idea of running as a form of exercise and part of a healthy lifestyle. These people may not even know that they are Future Runners. I certainly didn’t know it 15 years ago. These people need encouragement to get out there and hit the pavement or trail, to commit to making themselves healthy, to become Runners.

We must walk a fine line, we Runners. Runners, like everyone else, need motivation and crave encouragement. We like to congratulate our fellow Runners on their accomplishments. We encourage our fellow Runners when they feel like giving up. Every now and then we need to hear kind words from a fellow Runner when we are discouraged and feel defeated. And we should mentor those Future Runners who look to us as an example of what it means to be a Runner. We can and should be inspirational.

But we must also realize that there are those who don’t get it, those who will never get it, and those who do not want to get it. We should be mindful that there are people for whom a 26.2 sticker is a reminder of their sedentary lifestyle. We should remember that Facebook posts about training runs and PRs go out to our Runner and Non-Runner friends alike. We should take into consideration that there are people who may react negatively to the very things which you find so positive in yourself.

How then should we proceed?

• Encourage your fellow Runners. Celebrate their accomplishments as they celebrate yours. Keep them motivated.

• Inspire the Future Runners in your life. Help them to fulfill their potential and to reach their individual goals.

• Be patient with Former Runners. They still get it (or did get it at some point). Maybe through your encouragement they can be coaxed back into the game.

• Be understanding with Non-Runners. Be prepared for negative reactions. Be ready for unrequited enthusiasm. We can peacefully co-exist with the Chad Stafkos of the world. 

We can do anything. After all, we’re Runners.

San Francisco Half Marathon 2013 -- Recap

Our family had been planning a trip to Yosemite National Park for over six months. I had meticulously planned out all the details. We would fly to San Francisco where we would spend two days sightseeing before picking up our RV to roam through Yosemite, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia National Parks for a week. I had all the usual activities planned for our time in San Francisco: Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown, North Beach, and a cruise under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz. As our trip approached, my wife, Tracy, commented that it would be Father’s Day while we were in San Francisco. She wondered what she could get me for a present. A few days before we left, I had an answer for her.

One of the other members of my running team announced he could not run the marathon he had long planned. He was looking for an alternative closer to home on that same weekend. Out of curiosity, I checked the MarathonGuide.com website. I didn’t find anything in the Southeast, but I made an interesting discovery: the Wipro San Francisco Marathon and Half Marathon would be run while we were in town…on Father’s Day.

I had planned to squeeze in a few runs during our vacation. I love running in new places and new cities. Naturally, I was excited by the possibility of racing in such a picturesque locale as San Francisco. I knew I didn’t want to tackle a marathon (too much time and not enough training). But a half marathon would be perfect. As it turns out, there were two different half marathons offered for this race! Runners could sign up for either the First Half Marathon or the Second Half Marathon. Each race had its appeal. But the First Half drew my immediate attention. Not only would we get to race through the Embarcadero and Fisherman’s Wharf, but we would also get to run over the Golden Gate Bridge…twice! I was sold. Fortunately, I was able to sell my wife on it, too (as her Father’s Day gift to me). Five days before the race and two days before the deadline, I completed my online application.

Early on the day after we arrived in San Francisco, I rose early to get in a shakeout run before a day of sightseeing. I ran from our quaint, anime-themed hotel in Japantown up a long gradual incline to Nob Hill. At the top of the hill I was able to see the sun rise over the bay. Through the sky-scraper canyons of the Financial District I saw the Bay Bridge wrapped in a warm glow as the early sunlight bounced of the waters of the bay. Next I circled Grace Cathedral which sits majestically yet humbly upon Nob Hill. From there I coasted like a trolley car back down the hill to our hotel invigorated for a day of discovery with my family.

Later that afternoon, I dragged my family to the Race Expo. There we fought the crowds (20,000+ runners were registered) so I could pick up my bib number and my shirt. After receiving yet another too-small Medium technical shirt, I have finally decided to always order the Large knowing that it will often be too large (but at least I can still wear it). After the Expo, we walked down to AT&T Park to see the Giants’ stadium. Our one regret of the trip was that Giants were not in town. AT&T Park is one of the best parks to watch a ballgame. From there we made our way to Union Square. Somewhere along the way I recalled that you weren’t supposed to spend the day before a race walking miles around the city. But this race was for fun, and I wasn’t about to miss the sights with my family. Back in Japantown that evening, I discovered a new carbo-loading source: Japanese Ramen noodle bowl. These were not your penniless college student Ramen noodles; these were delicious, filling noodles with actual flavor!

The morning of the race was slightly unusual. The race officials had to get thousands of runners over the Golden Gate Bridge with minimal disruption to traffic and tourists. Consequently, the race start time was 5:30 am. This may seem early to many, but I had two things in my favor. I am used to running at 5:00 am, and 5:30 am Pacific Time is 7:30 am Central Time. I set my alarm for 3:45 telling myself it was really 5:45 am. After dressing quietly in the bathroom of our hotel room, I snuck down to the lobby at 4:15 where I planned to call a cab. Before I could pull out my phone, a couple in the lobby wearing race bibs asked me if I wanted to share a cab. I gladly accepted. As we rode toward the Embarcadero, I discovered that they were from Australia. She was in the country for a work conference, which they were turning into an extended two-week vacation with the kids. This would be the first half marathon for each of them. Being used to kilometers, he was not even sure how far the half marathon was. I did warn them about the hills having studied the elevation chart in the days before the race. They both planned to have fun and take it slowly.

We stepped out of our cab at the Embarcadero at 4:40 am into the still pitch-black, cool early morning. We said our goodbyes and wished each other well. I found a little corner that was shielded from the wind off the bay. I put on my bib and sipped my Gatorade. I was ready to run. But my wave would not start for almost an hour at 5:42 am.

As the crowds of volunteers and runners and race officials and policeman gathered and swelled, my thoughts went to Boston. This would be my first big race since the tragedy of April 15. I took inventory of my feelings. I was not fearful; I was not paranoid or hyper-vigilant; in fact, I was almost defiant. I refused to be afraid. And as I looked around me, I saw the same thing: no one was fearful; no one was paranoid; no one was afraid. There was only anticipation and excitement.

The first light began to peek over the eastern side of the bay. Runners (me included) began migrating to the water’s edge to snap pictures of an amazing sunrise that almost none of us would get to see otherwise. Soon, the runners began to gather in their corrals. I made my way to the Wave 3 corral wondering if I should use the bathroom again (the answer to that question is always “yes”).

As I stood in the corral, I listened to the conversations around me. I tried to deduce where the other runners were from. Like my new Australian friends, there were many foreign runners (Germany had perhaps the largest contingent). I even made small talk with a few people. As the gun went off at 5:30 for the elites in Wave 1, we inched our way forward in anticipation. Amongst the throngs of runners waiting to begin the race, I ended up standing next to a guy wearing a Mercedes Marathon hat! He was from Kentucky running San Francisco in order to cross off California from his list of 50 marathons in 50 states. We exchanged a few stories about Mercedes before the gun went off for Wave 2.

By now it was almost full daylight. And by now I realized my bladder would not make it 13.1 miles. Silently I cursed my pre-race Gatorade. The starter thanked us for running San Francisco. He thanked us for our patience in the wake of extra security in light of Boston. At the mention of Boston the runners spontaneously cheered. The gun for Wave 3 went off right on time at 5:42 am.

The first few miles were flat as we made our way along the Embarcadero toward Fisherman’s Wharf. A place usually teeming with tourists was eerily deserted and still. A few brave souls were out to cheer the runners. But for the most part, the runners and seagulls had the area to themselves. I fell into a comfortable pace about 20 seconds per mile slower than my recent PR. I wanted to save for the bridge and the hills at the end. As we ran past the Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge came into view. Runners (including me) began stopping for brief pics with their cameras and smartphones. By now I was full of anticipation: somewhat for the run over the bridge but mostly for the nearest port-a-let. Finally, just before the Marina I was able to relieve most of my anticipation. I had lost some time, but was now ready to run in earnest.

After the Marina we encountered our first hill around Mile 5 as we made our way from the edge of the bay to the near end of the bridge. I maintained an even pace up the hill passing a few runners who had gone out too fast the first few miles. As we wound our way up the hill we passed the first elite runners making their way back over the bridge. They ran strong but showed a hint of strain. The bridge itself is a manageable, gradual incline to the middle. From there, the views were spectacular: the sunbeams bouncing of the waters of the bay; the light filtering through the city still half-asleep. More and more fast runners were running back over the bridge. Runners around me continued to snap pictures of themselves and their companions.

At the far end of the bridge, we ran through an aid station in a parking lot. I stopped to take some water and some photos. I couldn’t decide which I liked better: being in the city and looking out over the bay or being on the other side of the bay looking back toward the city. As we made our way back over the bridge, even more and more runners were headed towards us making their first pass over the bridge. Half the people were watching the road; the other half were watching the scenery.

   

Once back over the bridge, we headed up another hill into the Presidio. At the top of the hill we hit Mile 10. The reward for our climb was a spectacular view of the bay spilling out into the Pacific. The next mile was a steep downhill descent. I was able to pick up the pace passing many people who were still winded from the previous climb.

   

At the bottom of the hill we ran into the Richmond district. From there it was a gradual 2 mile climb into Golden Gate Park to the finish. As I passed the 12 mile marker I knew I would be able to break 2 hours even while thoroughly enjoying the race and stopping to take pictures. The spectators were now out cheering and holding signs and ringing cowbells. As we entered Golden Gate Park, I could hear the party going. The marathoners split off to the right as we ran left. We wished them well in the second half of their race. Some looked eager to continue; some looked envious of our near-finish. In the home stretch, throngs of people lined the finish shouting for their friends and family members. I always pretend they are cheering for me (it gives me a little boost). I crossed the line happy to be done but sad that it was over. 

   

I received my medal and grabbed a bottle of water. I stopped for a couple of quick “official” post-race photos. Then I meandered over to the food. I eagerly picked up a delicious blueberry scone. I also grabbed a pack of Hawaiian rolls for later. Rather than post-race beer, they were offering Irish coffee to the finishers. Since it was little chilly, I gladly accepted a hot cup of coffee (minus the Irish). It was just a short walk out of the park to hail a cab on the street back to the hotel. I was pleasantly tired but refreshingly invigorated. I was ready for a hot shower and a day of sight-seeing with my family. (We would end up walking about 5 more miles from Japantown to Union Square to Chinatown to North Beach to Fisherman’s Wharf. But I felt great!)

The race really was a fantastic way to see the city from a perspective I would not otherwise have. I cannot imagine a more scenic urban marathon. The early start gave us cool weather and a beautiful sunrise over the bay. The route gave us an interesting, ever-changing view of the city. This is certainly not the race to run if you want to set a PR. But if you really want to enjoy a race, I highly recommend this one. Next time, I’ll have to run the 2nd Half Marathon to see the rest of San Francisco. Or maybe the Full...

Slow (or Fast) to Judge

After the early morning rain, I waited awhile until I was sure the skies were clear before heading out for my run. Yesterday, I had a nice 6 mile run at a moderate pace; tomorrow, I'm running in a 20k trail race; so today called for a short, slow run just to get the legs loose. My coach emphasized the SLOW part in his instructions. "No problem," I thought to myself, "I can take it nice and easy."

As I ran through my neighborhood with my dog on leash, we approached another runner heading in the opposite direction. As we neared, I saw the other runner was a 20-something female really working hard. She was clearly running much faster than me. Perhaps she was training for a race; perhaps she was blowing off some steam after a long week; or perhaps she's just that much faster than me all the time.

But as she zoomed by me in the opposite direction, I realized that she must have seen how slowly I was running. Perhaps she thought I was walking my dog and decided to jog for awhile; perhaps she thought I was injured; or perhaps she just thought I was that slow all the time. In truth, I was afraid she was judging me. And I was indignant. I wanted to turn around and run after her. I wanted to justify myself. I wanted to let her know that I was running that slow on purpose, and that it was all part of a larger plan.

But instead of turning around, I pondered how often I judge other people in just the same way. I see how slow they are and wonder why they aren't faster (you should really run more). I see how fast they are and marvel at their speed (I wish I could be that fast). But maybe what I should be considering is that the man running slowly could have just finished a marathon a few days before. And instead of praising the fast female, perhaps I should consider that she may be burning herself out before her big race next week. Or perhaps the girl asking for a handout on the street corner was just dumped by her boyfriend who took everything she had and kicked her out. Or perhaps the successful man driving the nice sports car is not to be envied because he works long hours at the expense of his family.

Slowly I jogged on, tugging on the leash of my faithful dog who cared not a lick how fast I ran.

Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

Matthew 7:1-2 

The Next Level

I've decided to take my running to the next level.

In 2012, I ran more miles (around 1300) than in any other year. Most of those miles were run in preparation for what I thought would be my final attempt at breaking the 4 hour barrier in the marathon. In my heart I believe I ran enough miles and trained enough to break 4 hours. But come last December in Memphis, my 4th attempt at the marathon ended like the first three -- over 4 hours. To be fair, the weather did not cooperate on that day in Memphis with 60+ degree temperatures and high humidity. But I think something else contributed as well.

Since the marathon, I've set PRs in the 10k, 10 miles, and half marathon. So, clearly, my fitness was in a good place. Clearly, I had put in the work. All the online running calculators kept telling me I should be able to break 4 hours in the marathon. But I hadn't. What was I missing?

I'm a pretty smart guy. And I've read a lot about running over the past few years. But that hardly qualifies me as an expert. I finally arrived at the realization that I needed help. I needed someone to teach me, to show me, to coach me. If I was going to improve enough to break 4 hours, I was going to need help. I was finally ready to admit it.

Just as I was coming to this realization, a brand new running training center opened in my hometown. I took this as the first sign. Then, I discovered that several (fast) runners I knew were being coached by Alex Morrow, the new proprietor of the Resolute Running Training Center. One of his students, Lisa, blogged about her coach, her new PRs, and her Boston qualifying time (Yo Momma Runs). I took this as the second sign. Fortunately, I'm wise enough now not to require a third sign.

I called up Coach Alex and set up a visit. He showed me around his nice new facility. He was very excited about the programs the training center could offer. And he was very confident in his ability to train me and in my ability to break 4 hours. I am putting myself in his hands; he will show me the way.

I think I know what I am in for. I think I will be running more miles. I hope I will be running fewer junk miles. I am sure I will be doing speed work and long runs. But, most of all I know will get instruction, accountability, and encouragement.

So, Coach Alex, let's take my running to the next level. I am ready.

I think.

Dixie 200 Relay -- Race Recap

Dixie 200 Relay Race

Running can often be a lonely pursuit. I often run for an hour or two in solitude with only my thoughts and my music for company. I do have running partners for some of my runs. And you are hardly ever truly alone during a race. Running is rarely a team endeavor. But that is exactly what makes long relay races so special. When else do you get to run and ride for 30+ hours with a bunch of friends having a great adventure? I got to have just such an adventure for the 2013 Dixie 200 Relay from Atlanta to Birmingham.

My wife, Tracy, and I joined 10 other runners to form a team for the Dixie 200 Relay. Our team consisted primarily of teachers and administrators at Homewood High School. Latta Johnston, Assistant Principal, was our team leader. Nivada Spurlock, Wellness Coordinator for Homewood City Schools, is the leader of The Movement which promotes wellness for teachers and students. The Movement is known on Twitter as #hwdmoves (Homewood moves), so this became our team name. And move we did...

Thursday, March 21, 2013

With hours of preparation under our belts, we loaded up two 12 passenger vans in the parking lot of HHS on Thursday afternoon. 6 people, a bunch of running gear, and a mountain of food & drinks were packed into each van. We arrived in the Atlanta suburb of Powder Springs around dinner time to check into our hotel near the starting line. After checking in, the team walked a short distance to Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant for our pre-race, carbo-loading meal. Two of our members, Josh and Allison, ordered the stuffed shells; they expected cheese filling but got some combination of meat and cheese that fortunately did not cause any GI distress the next day. Otherwise, the meal was excellent!

Tyler, Mike, Dean, Allison, Shane, Nivada, Rebecca, Melonie, Josh, Tracy, Kristen,  and Latta.

Friday, March 22, 2013

We awoke Friday morning ready to run. Nine teams were scheduled to begin the race at 7:00, but we were among the seven teams scheduled to start at 9:30 am. So, here’s how this sort of relay works: each team has between 6-12 runners (most teams have 12). Each team must run 36 legs over the course of the 200 mile race with each leg ranging from 3-9 miles. Teams with 12 runners like ours have each runner run 3 legs totaling 15-20 miles. Teams are split into 2 vans.

Tracy and I were in Van 1 with the other married couples, Latta & Kristen Johnston and Shane & Allison Wear. In Van 2 were Nivada, Melonie McBrayer, Rebecca Shields, Mike Hathorne, Tyler Burgess, and Josh Donaldson. Only Shane and Mike had ever run a relay like this before. As Van 1, we got to lead off the race running the first 6 legs. After receiving our instructions for the race, Latta toed the line to run Leg 1. When the horn sounded, he raced into the lead just so we could say we briefly led the race. Once the team saw him off, we climbed into our vans to begin our journey back to Birmingham.

Latta in the lead!

While Van 2 drove ahead to the first transition point, Van 1 drove to meet Latta at the end of Leg 1 which was 7.1 miles long. The race began on the Silver Comet Trail which runs from Atlanta to the Georgia-Alabama state line. From there, the rails-to-trail path continues as the Chief Ladiga Trail until Jacksonville, Alabama. So, the first 15 legs of the race were run on a fairly smooth, flat, paved trail. At the first exchange zone, Latta arrived before his projected time to hand off to Kristen for Leg 2. Thus we began a cycle to be repeated multiple times during the race: drop off a runner, drive ahead to the next exchange zone, witness the handoff to the next runner, wait briefly for the last runner to cool down and get some refreshment, then head out once again.

Latta to Kristen.

It was a cool, overcast day with temperatures in the upper 30s as we began the race. I was scheduled to run Leg 4 covering 6.96 miles. Shane, running Leg 3, and I were a stark contrast in footwear. He had transitioned to running in Vibram minimalist shoes while I had converted to running in maximally cushioned Hoka shoes. Our teammates did not hesitate to make fun of both of us. I had a really good first leg. The trail was exactly like the Lakeshore Trail back in Homewood, so I was right at home. I had planned to run between 8:00-8:15 per mile pace, but I felt so good the first mile that I pushed that down to between 7:50-8:00. Despite my good (for me) pace, I heard footsteps in the middle of my leg. I was about to be passed! In the parlance of relay races, I was about to be “killed.” I suppressed my competitive nature and refused to let it bother me when the 20-something female blew past me offering some almost-condescending words of encouragement. And I refused to let it bother me when the next guy flew by me at an even faster clip. I just concentrated on holding my even pace for the whole leg. As I rounded the last corner onto a straightaway, I could see my teammates at the exchange zone in the distance. But my Garmin said I had 0.75 miles to go. Gradually, I made my way down the long straightaway until I could hand off to Tracy. My Garmin read 6.95 miles in 54:52 for a pace of 7:54 per mile. This was pretty good for me especially knowing I had 2 more legs to run in less than 24 hours.

Kristen to Shane.

Shane to Dean.

Tracy took off for her Leg 5, and I took a few minutes to cool off. I knocked back a Muscle Milk (contains no milk) protein shake and was ready to climb back into the van. It was during the drive to the next exchange zone that I learned Tracy had had a mini-adventure while waiting for me. This was one of the few stops that had no bathroom or porta potty. So Tracy was relegated to seeking shelter in a nearby pasture guarded by her friend and lookout, Kristen. The place was dubbed Mrs. Poindexter’s Pasture for Peeing. And we wondered since I had been “killed” twice on my last leg -- did that make me a “zombie?” The punchiness that was to come to full bloom later in the night had begun to blossom already.

Dean to Tracy.

Tracy released her inner child, yelling for echoes as she ran through an old train tunnel. At the end of the leg, Tracy passed off to Allison who was running Leg 6 our final leg for this section. Up ahead we would meet Van 2 and make the transition to them. When Van 1 arrived at the transition point, they found that Van 2 had been waiting in the park for hours. Some runners napped, some joked around, other paced nervously. When Van 1 arrived, Van 2 sprang to life getting ready to run. Allison ran into the softball park where we were waiting. She handed off to itching-to-run Melonie. And, thus, Van 2 was on the clock while Van 1 could rest for awhile.

Tracy to Allison.

Allison to Melonie.

Ready for lunch!

We drove on to the small town of Piedmont, AL the site of the next van transition point. We planned to have lunch in a small restaurant recommended by the race director. We toured the entire “downtown” area of Piedmont before finding the Solid Rock Cafe (after realizing we had passed it earlier). We ate a very nice lunch of sandwiches and chips followed by cookies with coffee or hot tea. While we dined, another team came in for lunch while we saw yet another team drive around the block a few times.

After lunch, we headed over the the transition point at the Eubanks Welcome Center. (It took some driving around to find this place, too). Once there, we were able to relax for awhile and recharge our phones. Soon, Van 2 arrived after dropping off Tyler who was running Leg 12, the final leg of this section. Josh, who had run the long 9.5 mile leg at a very fast pace, came hobbling up with an ice pack on a swollen knee. We worried about his ability to continue. But he is young and tough. Kristen prepared to run her second leg. Because it was almost dusk, she donned her reflective vest, her headlamp, and her flashing lights (required by race officials). Once the handoff was made, we said goodbye to Van 2 and drove to the next exchange zone. 

Tracy was next to run. By the time Kristen arrived, it was almost nightfall. Tracy took off back onto the trail into the fading light. As we waited at the next exchange zone, she texted me: “A little unnerved...” Apparently the trail had veered away from the main road into the woods. The darkness, the solitude, and the sound of nearby dogs freaked her out just a little bit. But all that made her run a very fast leg!

Tracy at twilight.

Tracy to Allison.

Tracy handed off to Allison who got to run on the trail through the campus of Jacksonville State. Allison then passed to Latta who took the race off the trail onto the back roads of Alabama. As we waited for Latta, we met the nicest volunteer on the course, Pastor Greg of Lloyd’s Chapel Baptist in Anniston, AL. Shane took over for Latta and ran to the next exchange point which was Pastor Greg’s church. The church had coffee and snacks available for the runners as we passed through about 10:00 pm. As Shane handed off to me, I began my second leg, 8.4 miles from Anniston to Oxford. The first section of road was a dark, divided, four lane highway with not-so-gentle rolling hills. A mile or two into the run, I began to hear the dogs. We had been warned about dogs along the nighttime legs on the course. And now my imagination started to run on its own. Fortunately, I never actually saw a dog, but I ran a little faster. Another mile or two later, however, I ran past a trailer park. About the time I ran by, a very loud gasoline engine started. It was either a motorcycle or a chainsaw. I had visions of an Alabama Chainsaw Massacre. I ran even faster. Halfway through my leg, I turned onto an even busier highway. There, my van was waiting on me on the side of the road, just to make sure I was safe -- a welcome sight. After I ran by to their cheers and encouragement, the van sped off into the night. Four mostly downhill miles later, I was tired but almost done. I was happy to finally reach the van transition point to hand off to Melonie so that Van 2 could begin their second legs. I finished my leg at about 11:15 pm. I had covered 8.41 miles in 1:08:08 for a pace of 8:06 per mile.

Dean into the dark.

At about 11:30, our van headed from Oxford to the Comfort Suites in Pell City. We quickly checked in, took short showers, and tried to settle into bed. Three married couples managed to share 2 double beds and a sofa bed. I managed to drift off to sleep around 12:30 a.m.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Since we had to meet the other van at about 4:15, our alarm was set for 3:30 am. But due to the excitement, I was up at 3:00. As quickly as we had rushed into the hotel, we rushed back out again. Only now, the skies had opened up with rain and distant lightning. As we pulled into the parking lot at the van transition point, there were several other vans already there waiting for their teammates. As we waited, the rain and lightning increased. At around 4:15 a.m. Van 2 pulled up beside us with the news that the race would be halted after this leg was completed. Poor Josh was running through a downpour on a swollen knee while dodging lightning bolts. As he passed the wristband to our van, he looked almost defeated. But only almost. Van 2 soon departed for the showers and beds of the hotel we had left just a short time ago.

From 4:30 to 7:00, we waited in the van. We waited for the storm to pass. And we waited for the race directors to make a decision about how to proceed. As we waited, the silliness in the van began to overflow. We told stories and jokes; we watched the dawn’s early light. we made fun of eachother; we made up a Jimmy Buffett song. Around 7:00 a.m., the director made the decision to have us skip several legs to get south of the storm. So we drove the van ahead 4 legs expecting to run at any time. But the storm would not go away. So, we sat for another hour. We took turns making a dash to the porta potty in the rain. Finally, around 8:30, the rain let up enough for the race to resume. Since we skipped a few legs, teams were allowed to double up runners on some legs so that everyone got to run their 3 legs. Shane, Allison, and Kristen only had about 10 minutes to get ready to run before we resumed the race. It was interesting to see many of the teams back together again after running solo for most of last legs. Our 3 runners took off, beginning our third legs after a 4 hour delay.

Waiting.

Rain.

The next exchange zone was at Lighthouse Community Church which was providing a pancake breakfast for the runners. We had each paid $5 in advance for the breakfast. But Van 2 had gone back to the hotel, and no one else in Van 1 felt like eating at that time. So, I decided to eat a single pancake without syrup as my pre-run fuel. It was the best $60 pancake I had ever eaten. Tracy and I decided to run the next leg (Leg 30) together. We were running on fairly flat, country roads. When we started it was lightly raining, but it quickly stopped, allowing us to remove our rain gear for most of the run. We ran at a decent pace, but the effort of the previous 2 runs and the lack of sleep took away our top gear. Compared to our previous runs, we struggled through this 5 miles. About halfway through our leg, we were the victims of another kill. But shortly thereafter, we were able to return the favor another team’s runner. Our first kill! We needed 2 county deputies to stop traffic on US 280 in Harpersville to allow us to cross the road safely. As we ran into the exchange zone at Morgan Creek Vineyards, we were relieved (but couldn’t believe) our portion of the race was over. We covered 5.05 miles in 44:44 with a pace of 8:51. As Latta took off for the final leg of Van 1, Tracy and I went to change into some dry clothes.

Ready for the last leg!

Kristen & Allison to Dean & Tracy.

Tracy down the road.

Finished!

We hopped back into the van to head to the last van transition point. We passed Latta on a hilly dirt road. As we drove slowly by, he used our van as a shield against a loose dog on the side of the road. We then passed several runners up ahead and felt confident that Latta could pick up a few kills before the end of his leg. We reached the next van transition point to find 10-15 vans waiting for their runners. We got to joke and laugh with Van 2 before Latta handed off to Rebecca. Van 1 was done! But Van 2 faced some long, very hilly legs before they reached the finish line at Oak Mountain State Park.

Latta to Rebecca.

Since we were finished and Van 2 would not finish for 5 hours, we decided to drive home to shower and change. As we drove home we realized just how bad the van smelled. We chalked up to our running clothes. Until we remembered the brown bananas in the back of the van. We began to talk of the smell of “banana and stink.” Once we had cleaned up, we headed to Oak Mountain to greet our teammates. Their van took longer to arrive at Oak Mountain than we thought, but we chalked that up to the toughness of the final six legs they had to run. They reported that everyone had survived their runs. They also said Josh was hurting but was going to give it his all. Nivada was going to run the final leg with him.

As we waited for Josh, several other teams saw their final runner cross the finish line. Each one look tired. Eventually we saw Josh running down the road through the woods. He was hobbling a little on his swollen knee, but he pushed through to the finish line. We were done! #hwdmoves had finished the Dixie 200!

Josh crossing the finish line.

#hwdmoves

But where was Nivada? She did not come in shortly after Josh as we expected. We feared that she had missed the final turn into Oak Mountain State Park. Latta took off in his car to look for her. He eventually found her a mile away having already added 3 miles to her run. But she got to cross the finish line. We were now able to take our final team picture and receive our finisher medals. We were not concerned about our time; our main goal on this adventure was to do our best and have fun. But #hwdmoves managed to finish in 7th place. Not too shabby!

We were tired and hungry but energized and fulfilled. The phrases “next year” and “when we do this again” were thrown about here and there. Each of us will take away something different from this experience, I am sure, but we can all agree it was an unforgettable time of physical exertion and fellowship.