Got back late yesterday from attending my cousin’s funeral over the weekend; thanks to all of you for your kind comments… my cousin was, for a time, like a big sister, and she’d been sick for quite a while. Passing away at 58 is too young, though no time is good I guess.
Driving eight hours in one direction is not so easy when your legs want to cramp up from running all the time, but I at least managed to avoid all the holiday traffic. Plus the weather was just about perfect, if a little hot. No complaints, though. And funny enough, I turn on the TV on Sunday morning and there I find coverage of the Rock n’ Roll ½ Marathon in Virginia Beach. I’m not so knowledgeable about the race, but I found out it was a bit more serious than I thought; 17,000 finishers, and the winners were from Kenya. If you hold a race, and your top runners are from Kenya (and can finish a half in 1:02), your race is pretty darn serious. I used to think the whole ‘Rock n’ Roll’ race series was a gimmick to get paunchy white middle-aged men to come out and part-tay with some bands before hitting Hooters for some pitchers, but I was wrong.
As for me, I found myself not doing my usual weekend three-hour-tour of training, but instead finishing about half that, which was plenty under the circumstances. I don’t know how people can run on rural highways and roads that are without even a hint of sidewalk or space. Quite often I’d find myself running on a narrow, slanted shoulder, which would turn into tall grass, which would turn into nothing worth running on except the actual road, and then back again. All while pickup trucks and SUVs flew by, though plenty of folks slowed down to gawk at someone from outer space alone on the road… I may be wrong, but I definitely got the vibe that personal exercise is something the city slickers do, especialy since the hotel I was in didn't have the typically windowless 'fitness center'. Speaking of city slickers, the sobriquet ‘yankee’ is sometimes used without a hint of irony or amusement by certain folks in southern Virginia.
On one occasion, a car up ahead stopped on the road, leaving just me and the driver in the middle of semi-nowhere. And he just sat there as I ran closer. Once I got about 10 yards away, the driver took off in his car… which made me a little creeped out, and of course, my imagination goes into overdrive creating headlines about some rural serial killer abducting hapless joggers in week nineteen (‘they’re nice and slim by then’) of their marathon training. And weird thing is, this happened TWICE in one weekend. Funny how ready I was to return to the safety of Central Park. Used to be a time when you never heard anybody say that…
So I’m back to the city with its loudness, aggression, pruned parks, flourescent papaya drinks and actual honest-to-God bagels. Home, where I can run hill repeats and write about annoying minutiae that only a ‘real runner’ would get. My hamstrings hurt already…
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4 comments:
I'm sorry about your cousin.
Running on country roads is scary. I say that never having done it and once having gotten into a huge argument over whether or not one could even walk on country roads. I said no and was wrong.
58 is indeed too young. You're right about that.
The Country Music (1/2) Marathon was a good 25K+ strong, and I've heard that Rock n Roll San Diego is even bigger. When I was waiting in line for the porta-potty in Nashville, I began to talk to this older gal who was in "wave 1" who wanted to set the course record for her age group. I'm not sure which age group it was(had to be 60+) , but she was no joke.
However- When I did look behind me at the start, there were THOUSANDS of people filling the streets for about a quarter mile back and then around a corner. If I was in the 2:00/4:00 group and was corral #12, then behind me were at least 20+ more corrals. Quite a sight.
Renee- Well, we have our own hazards in the big city, but at least we're not all alone if there's trouble. Well hopefully. I've been back a day or two, and i'm still kissing the ground. (Blech)
And AR, it is amazing when you realize how many people are right behind you in races. I don't mean that in a 'we're faster than everybody else' way, just that the waves of humanity never seem to stop in the mega-races, and you never really think about it because you're going in one direction the whole time. Obvious stuff, I know, but you'll be reminded of it when you've finished the WDW marathon, cooled down for 30-40 minutes, and then discover tons of people still running on the course as you're going back to the hotel. God bless 'em...
My condolences on your, and your family's, loss.
I ran for 2 hours on rural roads in Lodi, CA last summer: Miles and miles of vineyards, which was gorgeous, BUT, when you think of grapes, you think of farms, and when you think of farms, you think of country folk...
Yeah. I got a LOT of weird looks while I was out there.
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