Race Day

Typically, the day before a race is time for resting and mentally preparing for the big day.  This time around I had a different approach: work half a day, take a five-hour train ride, eat two semi-decent pasta meals around 9:00 pm, and then set the alarm for six hours later.

Typically, the morning of a race I like to wake up, have my peanut butter roll-up, banana, cup of coffee, and Gatorade, with time to spare to chill out and relax.  Again, this time around was a little different:  I woke up at 3:00 am, made my coffee, stumbled out the hotel door onto a shuttle bus, tried to sleep for another hour, then had my banana and Power Bar and coffee, hoping that I could make it the entire journey without needing to pee (or worse).

Fortunately the scene at the race start was quite familiar:  a buzz of excitement from everyone trying to find where to go and where to put their belongings; nervous energy while warming-up and stretching; strategizing the best way to handle the inevitably long lines at the port-o-potty.  Of course all of this was taking place in a small brick courtyard surrounded by mountains fading into the mist (ahem, pollution?), with the faintest outline of the Great Wall rising and falling with the peaks and valleys.

The pre-race vibe was fantastic.  People literally from all over the world had come to this race to test their strength and endurance.  I felt quite lucky to be a "local" participant, already comfortable with the Chinese quirks (like having an ayi clean the squatter port-o-potties) and questionable air quality.  My Texas shorts were a great conversation starter, not only before the race, but during the long haul too.  I bumped into several people from school that I didn't realize were running, so that was a nice boost in positive mojo as well.

Despite its relatively small size the race is really well organized.  They were very strict about the wave starting system, corralling each group up to the START and counting down each time.  There must have been at least 100 volunteers along the course waving flags, holding signs, and pointing which way to go.  It was pretty obvious on the wall, but out in the village there was potential for getting lost and wandering onto some farm far, far away.  The water stops were well-stocked and appropriately placed, and there were even a few designated toilet stops (not that those are a true requirement for a seasoned runner).

I was assigned to Wave 2 but didn't have anyone to join me, so I buddied up with a good friend and other ladies in Wave 4.  Right out of the gate I knew I wasn't going to keep up with my pal Ingrid, so as the road inclined ahead of us I made a plan with another woman to stick together.  It was Liz's first ever half marathon, so I was more than happy to be part of her experience.  

The initial climb was ridiculous.  It wasn't all that steep (San Francisco hills were worse) but it literally was a steady ascent for three miles.  Holy cow, my legs have never been so tired so early in a race.  Then we got to the Great Wall.  What a view.  It was really spectacular, and I immediately felt guilty that I was supposed to be hurrying past, trying to "run" this race.  That feeling came to a halt as suddenly as my Aasics when we had to stop and wait to descend the first staircase.  It was so narrow that only two people could squeeze by, so there was quite a long line.  Well, good thing I wasn't aiming for a personal best!

The section on the wall was truly remarkable, with sweeping views across the gray mountain tops dotted by fluorescent athletic gear.  The steps really weren't too bad: as soon as my butt and calves were screaming from climbing up, they got a break and let my thighs get jiggly trying to control my way down.  The professional photographers were positioned at just the right place to catch people in the most dramatic strides, tumbling down uneven stairs, or huffing and puffing their way back up.

After the section on the wall (which was the longest hour of my life!) we finally got a reprieve on flat surface back near the courtyard.  What a motivating course, getting to cruise past the spectators immediately after the most grueling part of the run.  We felt like we were flying or ice-skating, now that we could really cover some distance.  Liz and I made sure not to get over zealous with our pace, and decided that as long as we could chat we were alright.

Texas Pride

And chat we did.  Because there was nothing else to do.  The course after the wall went down a long stretch of village road (yes, with traffic) and then onto a dirt road leading to some farms and small houses.  The field had definitely spread out, and we were already seeing the super-speedy elite racers coming back toward the finish.  I got to practice some of my rudimentary Mandarin, shouting to the local-local spectators "ma shan hue lai" which means I'll be right back!  They chuckled, which I took to mean I said it correctly.  "Right back" may have been a loose term since it was more than another hour before we passed by there again.

Out in the village the roads turned into paths, and the paths into trails.  If this had been my first time in China I would've been amused by the rustic lifestyle.  But since I've lived in Hanoi and I used to be a regular hasher, this was all quite routine.  I was actually disappointed in the lack of free-range wildlife: no chickens or goats, not even a stray dog or cat.  We still got laughs from the children and stares from the old folks, but otherwise it was just another dusty dirty run.  Our biggest motivation was to get to the finish for a cold (or at least not hot) beer.

Liz was a perfect running partner; she even knew that she was calibrated to veer left, so she always made sure I was on the right.  Since we just met we had plenty to talk about, and I could share all of my running, racing, and traveling stories with her without the fear of her getting too bored.  We also chatted with a few other fellow racers, some from South Africa, others from Australia (Brisbane, and yes Bronwyn they knew Cue!), and several Americans and Europeans.  

Road conditions worsen; running brain takes over

As we returned to the large dirt road and then the paved road we came across other runners just on their way out.  We felt a surge of energy knowing that we were getting so close to the end.  We tried to talk ourselves into ignoring our tight muscles and pounding hearts, and we focused on keeping a solid pace and even stride.  If the crowd along the street was too quiet I rallied them with some hooping and hollering, because I've learned in previous races that cheering for yourself is way better than no one cheering at all.  Who cares if you look like an idiot?  You're already an idiot for choosing to run 13.1 miles just for fun, so you might as well make it as rewarding as possible.

Looks like a Hanoi Hash, but it's China

Liz made me promise I'd keep pushing her through to the end.  That wasn't necessary or even possible because I was struggling to keep up with her!  In the last half mile we pulled out all the stops and blasted (well, it felt that way) down the final stretch and around the corner into the courtyard.  I think she said something like, "OK, you go ahead,"  (one can never be truly certain of what's happening at the end of the race) and I might have replied, "No, we're going together," (yep, a real Hallmark moment) and we continued on side by side across the finish.  We each got our photo and our medal, and I was lucky enough to literally run into Chris because my legs just weren't going to hold me up anymore.

After we caught our breath and hugged through all the sweat and grit, we did make our way to the refreshment tent for that beer.  It was divine.  I met my goal: finish with a smile, ready for a beer.  A wave of relief and pain set in as expected, and the running high lasted on and on as I chowed down on a Subway sandwich and Goldfish.  The bus ride back to the hotel was uneventful and not terribly uncomfortable, and at the end of the day I knew it was all a success.

Sweet Success!

Ingrid, Neely, Me, Liz

The fine print - here are my final results. Nothing to brag about, but hey, I did it.