the 13th Mile
You wouldn't know it from looking outside today that yesterday morning had hell's weather here on earth in Columbus.
Mile 1: They played the theme from 'Chariots of Fire' and it really got people pumped up. I thought, "Are you kidding me?" Mayor Coleman was talking about how we were going to be telling our grandchildren about the blizzard of April 2nd, 2005. Hyperbole must fuel real athletes. There were huge unavoidable pools of ice cold water all over the street. When it started, I put myself in the 9-minute mile section and the pack slowly thinned out. I did start too fast, like I thought I would. There were less people cheering along the road than I saw last year, no doubt due to the inclement weather.
Mile 2: The snow really stuck to my clothes, melted, and soaked in. The wind blew fat snowflakes into my face and stung enough that it was hard to keep my eyes open sometimes.
Mile 3: I became seriously drenched by this point. I am used to running in snow, but not snow and rain. In the past, it would be cold enough outside that it blew off as I ran. I used to get overheated when I ran because I would have too much clothing on. Around this time in the race I realize that I've seriously miscalculated and wore the wrong clothes to this race. The sweatpants and shirts I wore soaked through, started to chill me and weigh me down.
Mile 4: I get cold by High Street (see map). I grab my first cup of Gatorade during a race and in the process realize my hands aren't working quite right. They're pretty stiff and unresponsive. I ignore them.
Mile 5: All the water in the street catches up with me, and friction from the water in my shoes works loose the bandage I keep on my insole to prevent the blister I always get. I get a bad-ass wet blister. I finally catch my breath, though, and fall into a rhythm of sorts.
Mile 6: I crested the one hill on High Street and run smack into a wind tunnel. High Street is a wide straight road with tall buildings lining its edges, channeling the North wind directly into runners' faces. Some serious gusts take the wind out of people's sails and a lot of people drop behind. It dampens my spirit some and takes the fun out of things.
Mile 7: I'm pretty damn cold and numbness starts to set in. I can't tell if this is good or bad yet as it takes some pain away.
Mile 8: My blister pops and every step feels like stabbing myself with a red-hot poker. I start to care less.
Mile 9: The 20-25 lb. weight of a thick, heavy, long-sleeve cotton shirt and sweatpants soaked in ice water finally hits me. The hands I have kept in my sleeves (aka water reservoirs) are now totally nonfunctional and I have to use two hands to squeeze my cup of Gatorade. The cold really sinks into my chest around now and it is painful. I slow somewhat and no longer make my 9 minute miles.
Mile 10: Going around the OSU stadium is supposed to be inspirational but it stinks. The puddles are deep and the water whipping around it stings. I get a carbohydrate gel tube that would have been tasty under normal circumstances.
Mile 11: I walk for about 20 yards, thinking I could somehow warm up but less exertion makes me even colder. I keep running and it dawns on me that THIS is the reason people shell out hundreds of dollars for inclement weather running clothes, as richer people not covered head to toe in snow gradually pass me. I notice that my blister doesn't hurt anymore but only because my feet have gone completely numb.
Mile 12: There's vomit on the road. Lots of vomit. This didn't make a lot of sense to me until someone in front of me spots it too, and then doubles over to barf as well. Vomit begets vomit, I suppose.
Mile 13: Every mile there is a large digital clock and a sign saying 'Mile X'. I hadn't been sure whether this meant Mile X was over or just beginning until someone at the side of the road shouts, "One more mile!". I get too excited and try to speed up but it only works for about 100 yards before my body puts a stop to it. The loss of that somehow important energy makes the rest of the race harder. People are pretty spread out by now. A lot of people step it up like I tried to do. But unlike me they keep going. Also, many people around me poop out on the last small hill.
Mile 13.1 Downhill to the end. I floor it and pass most of the people who stepped it up earlier. I get 2:02:36.
I had to ride my bike to this thing so riding home was a bitch. My hands were completely useless from the cold and I couldn't use my brakes or shifters in a controlled way. This meant getting home was almost as painful and hard as the race.
The lessons:
-Wear better rain gear in the rain, not super-absorbent cotton.
-Wear gloves, not sleeves.
-Use an Ace Bandage on my blister, not Band-Aids.
-Get a ride, stupid.
Mile 1: They played the theme from 'Chariots of Fire' and it really got people pumped up. I thought, "Are you kidding me?" Mayor Coleman was talking about how we were going to be telling our grandchildren about the blizzard of April 2nd, 2005. Hyperbole must fuel real athletes. There were huge unavoidable pools of ice cold water all over the street. When it started, I put myself in the 9-minute mile section and the pack slowly thinned out. I did start too fast, like I thought I would. There were less people cheering along the road than I saw last year, no doubt due to the inclement weather.
Mile 2: The snow really stuck to my clothes, melted, and soaked in. The wind blew fat snowflakes into my face and stung enough that it was hard to keep my eyes open sometimes.
Mile 3: I became seriously drenched by this point. I am used to running in snow, but not snow and rain. In the past, it would be cold enough outside that it blew off as I ran. I used to get overheated when I ran because I would have too much clothing on. Around this time in the race I realize that I've seriously miscalculated and wore the wrong clothes to this race. The sweatpants and shirts I wore soaked through, started to chill me and weigh me down.
Mile 4: I get cold by High Street (see map). I grab my first cup of Gatorade during a race and in the process realize my hands aren't working quite right. They're pretty stiff and unresponsive. I ignore them.
Mile 5: All the water in the street catches up with me, and friction from the water in my shoes works loose the bandage I keep on my insole to prevent the blister I always get. I get a bad-ass wet blister. I finally catch my breath, though, and fall into a rhythm of sorts.
Mile 6: I crested the one hill on High Street and run smack into a wind tunnel. High Street is a wide straight road with tall buildings lining its edges, channeling the North wind directly into runners' faces. Some serious gusts take the wind out of people's sails and a lot of people drop behind. It dampens my spirit some and takes the fun out of things.
Mile 7: I'm pretty damn cold and numbness starts to set in. I can't tell if this is good or bad yet as it takes some pain away.
Mile 8: My blister pops and every step feels like stabbing myself with a red-hot poker. I start to care less.
Mile 9: The 20-25 lb. weight of a thick, heavy, long-sleeve cotton shirt and sweatpants soaked in ice water finally hits me. The hands I have kept in my sleeves (aka water reservoirs) are now totally nonfunctional and I have to use two hands to squeeze my cup of Gatorade. The cold really sinks into my chest around now and it is painful. I slow somewhat and no longer make my 9 minute miles.
Mile 10: Going around the OSU stadium is supposed to be inspirational but it stinks. The puddles are deep and the water whipping around it stings. I get a carbohydrate gel tube that would have been tasty under normal circumstances.
Mile 11: I walk for about 20 yards, thinking I could somehow warm up but less exertion makes me even colder. I keep running and it dawns on me that THIS is the reason people shell out hundreds of dollars for inclement weather running clothes, as richer people not covered head to toe in snow gradually pass me. I notice that my blister doesn't hurt anymore but only because my feet have gone completely numb.
Mile 12: There's vomit on the road. Lots of vomit. This didn't make a lot of sense to me until someone in front of me spots it too, and then doubles over to barf as well. Vomit begets vomit, I suppose.
Mile 13: Every mile there is a large digital clock and a sign saying 'Mile X'. I hadn't been sure whether this meant Mile X was over or just beginning until someone at the side of the road shouts, "One more mile!". I get too excited and try to speed up but it only works for about 100 yards before my body puts a stop to it. The loss of that somehow important energy makes the rest of the race harder. People are pretty spread out by now. A lot of people step it up like I tried to do. But unlike me they keep going. Also, many people around me poop out on the last small hill.
Mile 13.1 Downhill to the end. I floor it and pass most of the people who stepped it up earlier. I get 2:02:36.
I had to ride my bike to this thing so riding home was a bitch. My hands were completely useless from the cold and I couldn't use my brakes or shifters in a controlled way. This meant getting home was almost as painful and hard as the race.
The lessons:
-Wear better rain gear in the rain, not super-absorbent cotton.
-Wear gloves, not sleeves.
-Use an Ace Bandage on my blister, not Band-Aids.
-Get a ride, stupid.
posted by Landon at 2:49 PM
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