Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle or it will starve. Whether you are a gazelle or a lion, when the sun comes up, you better start running.
- African Proverb
On race day, I have always had this calm before the storm experience. I am not nervous, I feel no anxiety, no adrenaline rush or excitement, not until the few moments I spend on the starting line before the start of the race. My RAGNAR experience was no different. I was confident that my training had prepared me to complete the race, but I was unsure that I would be able to run 6:30 pace. The van arrived at the exchange a little after dusk. It is beginning to feel like Autumn, although the days are hot, once the sun sets, the air soon becomes crisp and cool. As I stepped out of the van to begin my warm up, I decided that it was too cold to run in a short sleeve shirt and put my bib number on a long sleeve shirt.
The calm before the storm is beginning to fade. My brother will be coming around the corner and handing off to me within 15 minutes. I have enough time to warm up... but it has been so long since I have raced, I am unsure of what to do. I guzzle down a bottle of Accelerade and jog around the parking lot.
Striders... I need to do some striders I think to myself. 10-15 seconds across the parking lot at 90% pace should be sufficient.
But how many should I do?
3, 4, 5, that feels like enough, but now my calf is tight, shit.
It is getting dark now and I realize that I will be running in almost complete darkness, on a paved trail through the woods of West Virginia and Maryland. After 10 minutes of warming up I decide that perhaps it is a bit too warm for a long sleeve shirt. I nervously shuffle through the van, find my bag, and switch my bib number to a short sleeve shirt. I put on the mandatory fluorescent orange vest and an LED headlamp.
If I backtrack on the course I will be able to see Jason before he gets to here and I will know when I have about a minute left. After a couple more minutes, I decide to wait closer to the exchange. I jog in place, stretch my calves, and take one last swig from my water bottle. My teammates Dorothy and Scott are waiting by the exchange and I am sure that Jason will be here within a few minutes and I go to the exchange.
"170" I hear a volunteer yell, Jason's bib number. 30 seconds to exchange.
Woman: "You need a headlamp and a flashing light for your back." The woman at the exchange tells me as I see Jason rounding the corner.
Me: "I don't have a flashing light for my back!"
Woman: "It says right in your race bible that you need to have a light for both the front and the back."
The calm is over, the storm is here... And this woman wants to harass me about a stupid blinking light for my back!
With seconds left, Bridget comes running from the van, "Here is your flashing back light."
Jason enters the exchange zone and hands me the snap bracelet which is being used in place of a baton. "Don't be a hero." he says as I turn toward the course.
5 minutes and 45 seconds - My internal dialog has started now; it is both friend and foe during a long race such as this one. "You have done the training, you are ready for this, just ease into it. Lets shoot for a 7 minute mile pace." I tell myself. "Yes, this feels about right." I am comfortable, my breathing is controlled, and my calf has spontaneously healed. There is a blinking red light off in the distance, another runner. The adrenaline is coursing through my veins, I am now a lion with a prey in sight. I am certain I could be running much faster, but the race will be much more successful if I ignore this impulse and run smart.
13 minutes and 30 seconds - It is dark, I can see about 8 feet in front of me, and the sharp contrast of light from the LED headlight and the dark of the night is dizzying. I must be approaching the second mile by now. I decide that I will maintain a comfortable pace for the first 30 minutes and then gradually accelerate the second half of leg. The blinking red light comes in and out of sight. Am I getting closer? I look behind me and see a headlamp off in the distance. I decide to put in a surge and try to catch the runner ahead of me. My legs feel strong, but not fast. I guess that's what the mileage is supposed to do. He's getting closer, definitely, but it is hard to tell how far away he is because the darkness is so disorienting.
16 minutes - The runner is about 25 meters away now, maybe I will run along with him for a few minutes, the darkness makes me feel so alone. I approach him on the left. "How's it going?" I say, its the only thing I can think of to say right now. He doesn't respond, Asshole. I then notice the white wires running from his pocket to his ears, not an asshole, an IPOD. Ha! I decide to continue running by myself. This pace feels comfortable so I continue at this "post-surge" pace unsure of how well I will be able to maintain it.
21 minutes and 15 seconds - I am confident that I am 3 miles deep into the race and approaching the 4th mile. I hear noises in the woods, I look left and then right; nothing except for mile marker 7. NICE. It is difficult to judge my pace on a trail in the woods at night but mile markers should help. I see 2 more blinking red lights.
27 minutes and 35 seconds - Mile marker 6, I am running 6:20 pace. I passed two more runners, and I still feel great. I am almost half way done this first leg and I decide that now I will start to push the pace. Lets see how a 6 minute mile feels. It feels like I am pushing at about 80% effort, I think I could go to 85%, but am still not confident in my fitness. I pass another runner and run a 6:08 mile. This is a good pace, I am confident that I can hold it and it is much faster than my anticipated 6:30 pace.
I am having fun, I am enjoying this race. It is dark and lonely on this course; no fans, not even pedestrians who just happen to be walking by. I look forward to seeing blinking red lights, they are my motivation. I manage to pass another 4 blinking lights, one of which was a RAGNAR sign that directed me straight ahead.
45 minutes - I have just passed Mile marker 3, lets see what's left in the tank. My last mile was just a hair over 6 minute pace, this will be fun. It may seem crazy, but I smile to myself, all alone on the course. I am in shape and this is fun for me. I check my form. Arm carriage is good. Stride is comfortable, calves feel fine, and my piriformis doesn't even hint of tightness. Mile marker 2 and a 5:54 mile, mile marker 1 and a 5:48 mile. With one mile to go, I am ecstatic, I push it in at 90% effort.
62 minutes and 15 seconds - 10.3 miles and I closed in 5:42. Scott is waiting in the exchange zone and I hand off. Bridget, Tim, and Mark are waiting at the exchange zone and congratulate me on my performance.
"We weren't expecting you so soon!" they confess. I jog over to the van. It is 9:15. I feel awake, alive, and I am proud of my performance. I haven't felt this way in a long time. Again I have a sense of purpose, I belong to something, a team. They trusted me, relied on me, and I came through. This is why I get up at 6 am on Fridays to fit in a double run, this is why I do core work and stretch, this is why I do tempo runs and workouts. This is why I do 90 minute runs twice a week.
This is why I run.