I did it! Here are my impressions--skip to the bottom for...uh...the bottom line.
Thank you again for the hints and encouragement--they REALLY helped!
In the Boise area, it seems to be a sort of status symbol to be able to say, "Yeah, I ran Robie." The 2400 bib #s sold out in February during the first hour and a half. Being somewhat visually oriented, I couldn't help but stare at the other 2399 elitists in line when we picked up our packets three days before the race. They were dressed in everything from jeans to business suits and looked just like ordinary folks. I felt a small sense of relief as I too, am just an ordinary folk.
But something happened. On race morning I showed up in my almost ordinary sweats--they're made out of some fabric guaranteed to magically make your sweat do something that, through some nebulous scientific process, makes you run faster). I looked around. The ordinary folks had been replaced by Olympian gods and goddesses dressed in outfits that cost more than the pickup I drove to get to the race. They were dressed like Spiderman, and Catwoman, and some weren't hardly dressed at all. They had fancy fanny packs, belts, camel backs, and mp3 players. At least I had an mp3 player. Runners use those to mask the sound of their hearts trying to beat their way out of their ribcages. At least I think that's what they're for.
Each year the race starts differently. The race directors have got to be a fun group of people, and perhaps that is why this race is so popular. The theme this year was "Hound of the Baskervilles." I loved that story as a child. There was a band playing, and someone took four hound dogs up on the stage. They showed the hounds a raccoon and the hounds started howling. Then the runners howled. That went on for a couple of minutes. I fiddled with my mp3 player. I wished I had taken off my sweatshirt--it was going to be too hot. There was no time to take it to the truck that hauled everyone's dry clothes to the finish. I hated to just toss it, even though it had only cost 99c at a used clothing store. It had gone a lot of miles with me. Besides, the color was good on me. It only weighs maybe six ounces. I tied it around my waist. Then someone yelled, "Go!" and we were off. I had determined not to go out fast. I would run my normal long-run pace and not look at my watch too much. The first couple of miles wind through the foothills above Boise. Both sides of the street are lined with very nice homes with incredible views. I felt like a rock in the middle of a creek--runners were streaming past me by the hundreds. I tried not to look, and kept plugging along. I figured the real runners were cutting to the inside corners on each curve. I wasn't sure that would be a good idea for me. Heaven forbid that I should trip someone and they tear their Spiderman outfit. I ran up the middle of the road. Then I noticed a line of little kids standing on the edge of the road with their hands out for runners to hit. I cut over to the side and hit little hands as I went past. People were out on balconies and lawns cheering us on. They had sound systems set up playing music like the theme to Rocky.
A little over three miles into the race, the pavement ends. I hit the pavement at 28 minutes. The road winds up through a very narrow canyon. It seemed very hot, the canyon filled with sweaty bodies. It was very quiet--all you could hear were hundreds of people breathing. It was a little eery, and almost hypnotic. I turned on my mp3 player.
Every mile or so, there was an aid station. They had water, bananas, and oranges. I don't usually drink water when running or backpacking. I decided to not drink much water. Also, I had tried to "hydrate" myself the day or so before the race, the result being that I was up all night before the race. I woke up feeling bloated, and my eyes were puffy. Even the most beautiful Catwoman outfit would not have improved my appearance. At mile four I saw a runner vomiting violently at the side of the road. That became a regular sight. That, and the sight of runners writhing on the ground, holding a leg. It scared me.
Around mile six the crowds were thinner. A lot of runners were talking. Talking helps regulate your breathing, but I didn't find anyone who was running my pace. Most were going faster. A beautiful woman passed me. She looked relaxed and graceful. I realized that I was a little tense and tried to copy her form. Until she disappeared out of sight, anyway. Mile 7-8 is extremely steep. Most people walked. I kept up my run, but the walkers were passing me. I was afraid to stop, because I wasn't sure I'd get started again. My six ounce sweatshirt had morphed into a ten pound weight slapping my thighs. I considered tossing it. Near the top was "Temptation Station." The local Hash House Harriers were dressed in bikinis (men and women) with their faces painted to look like dogs. They were shoving shots of whiskey, cigars, beer, and dog dishes filled with Twinkies at the runners. I passed on all of it, then almost grabbed a Twinkie. I hadn't had one in years. But, the thought of painfully trying to cough dry Twinkie crumbs out of my lungs changed my mind.
Speaking of mind, you have a lot of time to think while running. I thought about why I would run a race like this. I had nothing to prove, and didn't care about beating any one. Perhaps it was just an exercise in uniting mind and body to achieve the best results possible. My mind and body had been fighting all the way up the hill.
Mind: Go faster, body.
Body: Yeah, right. You have the easy part.
Mind: Oh no! Did you see that guy vomiting? Slow down!
Body: I'm going as slowly as I can.
Near the top, the pine trees smelled wonderful.
Mind: You're SMELLING? You're not breathing out your mouth--go faster!
I hit the top, around eight miles, at 1:40. I glanced at my watch. In order to break two hours, I would need to run 3 min. miles the rest of the way down. Oh well. For me, the hard part was past. I am able to move quickly downhill, letting gravity carry me. I yelled, "WOOHOOHOOOOO" as I took off. A lot of other runners started yelling also. NO ONE passed me on the way down. It was very muddy--Boise Search and Rescue members were standing at the corners saying, "Be careful, stay to the outside, lotsa mud here." I ran the last five miles in 38 minutes. Somewhere on the way down, my mind and body stopped talking altogether. I was numb from the waist down. I slid my hand down to my hip to see if my sweatshirt was still there. It was.
Bottom line: I finished at 2:18:24.2. They handed us dog tags with the name of the race and the year on it. They handed out "space blankets." We got T-shirts. They had a band and food and beer and water. It was a party, and I celebrated with all the other folks, folks like me who had run a race.
(Oh, and I escaped injury. In fact, I was not sore the next day. No blisters, but one sore spot where the timing-chip ankle bracelet rubbed.)
