Race 1

RC Cola/Moon Pie 10 Miler Bell Buckle, Tennessee June 2004

The whole purpose of writing this story is because I am not competitive anymore. And if I'm going to pay all this money to run a race, then I had better remember it. Since I probably won't remember it next year, then I guess I had better write it down. So here it goes.

I ran the Country Music Half Marathon in April, my first race in 4 years. I used to run to win my age group. Then I got married and quit running. This year, I decided to get back into running. So Willard Bond a DCS co-worker talked me into running this race with him. Now I am not any more ready to run this race than the man in the moon. We started moving into our house the afternoon after I ran the Country Music Half Marathon in April. Phyllis and Paul moved back to NY and has had their house up for sale. And ours hasn't sold yet. This is June. So for 2 months I have basically been taking care of 3 houses. Needless to say I probably haven't run 10 miles total since the CMM. How in the world am I going to run 10 miles today?

I meet Willard at the "fair" and we walk about a half mile up a hill to the starting line. There is a daylong county fair and so our wives came with us to shop while we run. Willard instructs me that the first part has rolling hills in it. There's one big hill and the last half of the race is pretty level. They get us lined up. Now Willard is 66 years old and still runs competitively in his age group. I am 42 and hope to finish the race not lying on a stretcher. They start getting us lined up for the start. Now I don't want to get run over, so I tell Willard to go on up front, don't wait on me, and I will see him at the finish line. Well, that philosophy lasted until "Runners take your marks" is announced. Everyone starts getting antsy and push towards the starting line. I am dead center second row of 350-400 runners. For the first time in my running career since 7th grade I AM AFRAID! The gun sounds. The stampede is on. I feel like I'm standing at the Wal-Mart door on Black Friday. I try desperately to get to one side or the other. It's no good. Willard is striding right along with no problem. I know I'm going to regret it later, but I keep up with him.

We make it down the hill, about half a mile, and I finally make it to the left side of the road. He is striding along so effortlessly and says, "You OK?" Pride controls my answer as muster up an "of course". He says, "Now that it's thinned out, you ready to pick it up a little?" WHAT? We are three quarters of a mile into a 10 mile race and I am spent. He is wanting to speed things up? He is not going to beat me. He's going to smoke me! With my blessing he takes off. I get to the first mile marker at 8:14. He's about 20 seconds ahead of me. I watch for the next quarter mile or so as he gets smaller and smaller. I think back to my 8th grade year. You see, back then I was so competitive. This not being competitive is killing me. But I'm getting off track. I was a sprinter in school. My brother was the distance runner. I was asked by my coach in one tri-meet to run the mile. I argued because I knew I could win the 100 and 220 yard dash. But he wanted me to run the mile since there were only 2 entrants in the race, Bob Williams, our star distance runner and one from another team. His instructions were to pace myself, just finish and pick up the third place points. I start off like gang busters and blow Bob and the other contestant out of the water in that first lap. Bob kept yelling to slow down. But I didn't listen. So I am about 150 yards ahead of them after 1 lap. Before I run another 150 yards, I was in 3rd place out of 3. Bob finished in first place somewhere around 6 minutes. I finished 3rd somewhere around 8 and a half minutes. In other words, HE LAPPED ME! Some lessons are never learned. That little story is free of charge. Now back to this race.

A guy running with his dog passes me up on my right. As soon as they pass me, the dog takes a 90 degree turn left to sniff some road kill. I nearly trip trying to avoid them. I mumble under my breath something I would rather not repeat and moved on.

About 2 miles into the race I start up a hill. I say to myself, "Willard must not run the hills I run in Antioch. It's challenging but not that bad." So I truck on. I get down the other side and the guy with the dog runs by me-again. What the heck? They get about 50 yards in front of me and the dog takes another 90 degree turn left. This time he finds a tree and pees. I pass them up-again and move on.

A little over 3 miles into the race I hit another hill. This one is a little bigger. I struggle to the top and start back down. This has got to be the hill Willard was talking about! It has tired me out. But we hit a water break. I grab a cup and decide to walk. The guy and his dog pass me up once again. But this time, the guy, pulls his dog to the left. He lets the dog drink and I pass them up-once again.

About 4 and a half miles into the race I start up a hill. I cannot see the top because of all the trees shading the road. I run to where I think the top should be and find that I still can't see the top. So I decide to walk. The guy and his dog RUN by me. Thank the dear good Lord this turns out to be the last time. I'm tired of dodging them. They run out of sight and I am enjoying the walk. I look over to my left and see two women and a guy "running". I sort of laugh inside. I am walking faster than they are running. I actually pass them up. I finally get to the top of the hill. Now I am pretty sure this is the BIG hill Willard was talking about. But I am not betting my life on it. I had this same thought two other times and was wrong. I run down the hill to the check point and another water break. I take a cup and drink-while running. Something I didn't even do in the Country Music Half Marathon. But I look at my watch and my 5 mile time is 59 minutes. That's way slower than I had anticipated. I've got a lot of time to make up if I'm going to make my 1 hour and 40 minute goal (a 10 minute average).

I meet up with a guy wearing an orange UT shirt. We talk a minute and off I run. We get to the...