By "bigger stage", I mean many more teams than we were used to. I'm talkin' 1000 vs 250, which was mind boggling to think of, coming in. Often times in the Providian, you'll find yourself running along stretches where you won't see another soul, much less another competitor. I had the feeling going in that this wouldn't be the case during this race. I was really looking forward to the mass of runners and teams as logisically complicated as it may have been.
My team consisted of several people from work and a few others that used to be from work. We formed a team called the "Barking Spiders", a name that we had used several times for the Providian, one which could draw chuckles for anyone who understands its meaning and curiosity from anyone that didn't. For those of you who fall into the latter category, consider a Barking Spider to be the imaginary scape goat for anyone who has distributed audible emissions that are gastrointestinal in origin. "Wow the spiders are really barking today!" you might say to fellow runners as you make your presence known. Feel free to try it on your next run.
The Barking Spiders descended upon Portland on Thursday and Friday before our time (5:30 PM on Friday) to begin the race, some by plane and some via road trip. I took the flight option, coming in with three teammates on Thursday morning. I wanted to do some exploring of the city before immersing myself into the 24+ hour relay that was ahead. I had last visited 6 years ago for a wedding and had enjoyed it. I wanted to take in some more.
We spent much of the morning exploring the Japanese Garden and Hoyt Arboretum, which are pieces to Washington Park. The Japanese Garden was peaceful to walk through, containing
simple yet ordered arrangements that were pleasing to the eyes. There were sandy court yards with ripples coming from each of the objects contained within. There was a beautiful waterfall spilling into a small pond that contained many multi-colored fish. There were small bridges, switch-back walk ways and trees with branches which had been guided by braces to grow in interesting angles and ways. Supposedly this garden is one of the most beautiful of its kind outside of Japan (Afterwards I had asked some Japanese friends about the garden, who had visited it recently, and they claimed that it was authentic.One of the Barking Spiders, Dick, was what I would call a "tree buff" and suggested we visit the Hoyt Arboretum. We were not disappointed as we ventured down some of the trails, named for the majority of the trees that we would see on them (e.g. fir trail, spruce trail). Each tree was marked with its english and latin names as well as its current home country or countries. Probably the most interesting tree that I saw was the "Monkey Puzzle".
There was not explanation about its name, but it didn't need it as this prickly branched tree would clearly be a challenge to the most cunning of climbing monkeys.After our day of visiting some of Portland's natural wonders and collecting more spiders from the airport, we were ready for a pre-race pasta feed. Almost every runner knows about carbo loading and we're not a team of newbies. After doing some Googling to see what Italian eateries were available in Portland, we decided to take a chance with Davincis Italiano Ristorante
It was a fairly classic Italian-American restaurant, nothing fancy with a very local feel to it and heaps of tastey Italian food. They had Fat Tire on tap, which we ordered several pitchers of. What else do you really need?
After stuffing ourselves silly, we got even sillier and capped off our night by watching Office Space, which we found among the DVD collection of the son of one the spiders, who was letting us use his house for relay as a crashing point and headquarters. I've seen the movie before, but it was fun to watch again. I think there's something cathartic about watching something that is poking fun at the corperate world that most of us toil in from time to time. The movie also provided plenty of laughter fuel for the relay itself as everyone in my van relayed impressions of the boss in the movie and and also used several expressions, such as "showing the 'O' face" and taking a ride on the "bone rollercoaster". We couldn't get enough of that.
After getting a full night's of sleep, something that would be lacking for the weekend, we all met up again in the late morning at Powell's bookstore in down town Portland. It's a wonderful place for anyone remotely interested in reading as it is a store which takes up a full city block (even has its own parking ramp) and is four stories high. I picked up a couple used books in the award-winning section, Life of Pi by Yann Martel and Charming Billy by Alice McDermott. It wouldn't be hard for most people to spend days in the store and not really cover it.
Afterwards, we ended up grabbing lunch from Whole Foods down the street from Powell's, joining a large lunch-eating crowd that had the same idea. We then went back to headquarters for the last arrangements before heading to Mt. Hood. We were quickly approaching race time.
Backing off for a second, let me try to describe the nature and logistics of this relay. The race goes from the top of Mt. Hood (well, as far as you can drive) to Seaside, which is a small town against the Oregon coast. The distance is 197 miles which causes most people's jaws to drop when you mention that to them. It's not as a bad as you think, since there are 12 people on a team, each taking on a share of course (comes out to about 16 miles per runner). The course is broken up into 36 segments of varying distances, called "legs" (not to be confused with the legs you run with). Before you start the race, your team decides who is going to run what legs, which must be run in a set order on your team. So for instance, the runner that takes on leg #1 also gets legs #13 and #25. That way, everybody gets 3 legs that are spaced 12 legs apart. To pull the feat of completing these legs off, each team is typically broken up into two groups of 6 that will share a vehicle (usually a mini-van) together. So vehicle 1 will transport runners 1-6 and vehicle 2 will do the same for runners 7-12. You basically drive ahead of the runner that's currently completing his/her leg and provide them support (water, heckling, etc.) along the way. You're also driving the next runner(s) that will need to be dropped off at exchange points, so that they can take the baton (which is a braclet) and carry on. Once you get rolling with the relay, it's amazing how quickly it goes.
We decided to drive both vans up to Mt. Hood so everyone could take in the view at the top, and view the teams that we would be up against. On the way, we saw several mini-vans like ours, some of which had absorbed a high level of decorative creativity from the team members within. We saw a familar team to us from the Providian relay in the form of "Snot Rocket". Snot Rocket promotes the use of what a midwesterner like myself might call a "farmer blow" (it's not as dirty as you think) Regardless, just imagine how you might cleanly clear out your nose without any handkerchief or tissue. Runners face this dilemma all of the time (and farmers too :-))
The vie
w at the top was spectacular as we parked among the many teams that would be launching their races shortly before us, after us or even the same time. Every 15 minutes, roughly 25 runners would be flying down the mountainside after a count down initiated from the P.A. announcer and accompanied by the crowd. We were starting to feel the tingles of a running event form as we neared closer to our 5:30 PM starting time.
Compared to the Providian, Hood to Coast had a much bigger event feel to it, which isn't shocking given that it's been going on for 15 more years and they have almost 800 more teams (which is almost 10,000 more runners). There was a pretty good crowd there, with music blaring, teams with uniforms and vans dressed to the nines. A few of us spotted a couple teams dressed as French maids and cheer leaders, which are always head-turning sights to most of the male population. We were quite impressed.
Our lead runner Dennis lined up at the start with the group of 5:30 leaders. I was trying to enjoy the last few moments of sanity, though was ready for what looked to be a insanely fun
race. The MC announced each of the teams, getting cheers from their respective teams on hand. He then had every lead runner shake hands and introduce themselves to each other in a gesture of good sportsmanship. With all of the formalities out of the way, all that remained was the count down to go time...10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!!!!!I was not envying Dennis as we drove drown the mountain, seeing the runners galloping down. He was practically pushed off of the top of Mt. Hood with almost 6 miles of down hill running ahead of him. For those of you who don't run as much as we might, down hill running may sound great, and to a certain extent it is, but the steepness of the slope that he was going down and the length of that slope is enough to given most people's knees and quadriceps a good pounding. Trust me, after doing a run like he was, I think most people would vote for doing an uphill climb instead.
But Dennis was up the task and came blazing through the exchange from leg 1 to 2. It didn't take too long to put one leg in the books as he passed the braclet to Jim, who had some tough down hill to tackle of his own. We now had a relay.
I was assigned to leg 5, which would continue along hwy 26, then parellel to it, up a country road at one point. I caught a glimpse of what I would be running on the way to peak, noticing that there was a hell of a lot of uphill to scale (maybe downhill running is not so bad. :-)). As Janna was completing leg 4 and after we parked at the exchange point, I decided to take a trip to the "Honey Bucket", which is an endearing term and company name for the port-a-potties (It reminds me of another midwest term "Honey Wagon", which is used in place of manure spreaders).
As I casually emerged from the honey bucket, Janna was practically right there. Thank goodness I had all my running gear with me because I actually needed to run from the bucket to the exchange in order to prevent her from waiting for me. That's something you generally don't want to do to a runner. Imagine running your guts out and not seeing your exchange partner waiting for you. It sucks.
But I made it and it probably provided me a little bit of a warm up as I snatched the braclet from her and let my legs rip down the road. I generally go out way too fast, emulating a bat out of hell. The adrenaline of a race often does that too me, but relays are especially the case because of the team element. I feel like I wanted to do my best for the Barking Spiders.
About a minute into the run, I found my first "road kill", which is a term often used by relayers when they pass someone. The second one wasn't too far away, but this guy sped up considerabley when I came within 5 feet of him ("no way you're passing me", he was probably thinking). Some people make it very difficult to pass them, which can be hard on your body for a little while. I just decided to settle into his pace for a spell and see if I could wear him down. A few minutes later, he was toast.
My experience in relays has usually been one in which I tend to always kill rather than be killed, so it was suprising to me to get passed about 2 miles into my leg as a guy came blowing by me. It wasn't quite the standing-still feeling, but it was close. This dude was booking and he wasn't looking back. I figured he was either his team's stud or on a stud team. After passing a handful more of people, I got killed again. This was a much different relay than what I was used to.
My run started in the twilight which became no light, other than the spread out beam of my head lamp. I veered up to the right, off of 26 and onto the wavy country road of cherryville lane. The tall trees with thick-leaved branches blackened my route and turned my race erie. I could only see 15-20 feet in front me and the bouncing ball of light owned by the racer who had passed me a few miles back. That would change slightly for a while as I came into a intersection that was lit by headlights and volunteers preventing runners from making a wrong turn without a mile left. "You've got one mile to go!", they said as I pressed on.
Up to that point, I felt as if the rating they gave that leg of "very hard" was not well deserved. Yes there was some climbing, but I felt as if I had been moving very well throughout. I felt as if I was sitting pretty until they threw a nasty climb in front of me. Ok, now I get it.
I huffed and puffed up the hill to the exchange. I could mark one leg down and two to go as I passed the braclet to Jacques, who was running anchor for our van. The air was cool and felt great against my heated and sweaty self as I made it back to van with Jim. There was a huge line of vans parked along hwy 26 housed with teams waiting for their runner. It felt great to have one in the book.
After we finished leg 6, we drove back to Larry's son's for a very brief snooze. The most challenging thing about relays like this is dealing with sleep depravation. Since it was only 10:00 PM when we ready to settle down, I found it impossible to do much more than lie down. At 1 AM, the alarm clock shattered all hopes of getting a night's sleep (I think I ended up falling comfortabley asleep at 12:30 AM!). Shortly after, we received a call from Larry, letting us know that their 6th runner, Tom, was running his leg. It was getting time to do it all over again, this time through the streets of Portland and the country side which beckoned from the west.
After much navigational folly, we found a parking spot by the Hawthorne bridge that Dennis would be running across, getting our team over the Willamette River. This would probably be one of the more challenging times for each of us to run as our bodies internal clocks thought we were scheduled to sleep. But that's part of the fun and the challenge of the relay is running at the small hours of the night.
Tom came flashing in with braclet in hand and transferred it to Dennis, who was off into the night. We briefly chit-chatted with our other van, asking them how their legs went and so forth. There actually isn't much time for conversation as we had a runner to support and they had showers and beds awaiting them. Time was awaisting.
Fast-forwarding to my leg, which is the most important one for me to describe here, :-), this time I had an "easy" one, complete with gentley rolling hills and pretty countryside that became prettier as dawn approached and I could see the morning star glowing in the western sky. The temperature had dropped to a comfortable 55 degrees, which is a lovely number to run in. I could see the steam coming off of me as I pushed through the early morning air, with a brightening horizon ahead of me.
Leg number two was in the books for me as I turned beside a church parking lot to where my exchange and Jacques were waiting. I found that no matter what a leg is ranked, whether that be "very hard" or "easy", I still feel about the same afterwards. "Very hard" means you're not going to be able to move as quickly, but the terrain should do a number on you. "Easy" just means should be pushing harder now because there are no mean hills to take you down. I ran my best pace on this leg and I was feeling it.
After a brief stop at a high school along the way, which provided us with showers and a pancake breakfast (wonderful), we took our sleeping bags to a open field near the next van exchange, which served as a parking lot and sleeping area. That combination is not a very wise one as Jacques can attest to. He claimed that several vans came within couple feet of my head and the heads of some of my van mates while we slumbered. He quickly gave up on sleeping and decided that living was more important.
Along with the traffic, I was eventually awakened by a very loud team by the name of "Hot Tamales". A few of their runners were standing about 10 feet from my sleeping bag and were speaking at such a volume that I'm not sure if I could yell at. Maybe the volume seemed higher than it actually was because I was trying to sleep, but I couldn't believe that someone could speak so loudly, especially when they see people sleeping around them. One of their teammates even tried to shush them, which worked for about 10 seconds before they resumed their ear-ringing and mundane conversation. At one point I just got up and thought, "Ok, I guess I'm up". They were another reason that Jacques had given up.
But that's part of the relay and our second van was on their way anyway, so it was time to go through the drill one more time. The time was roughly 10:00 AM when I noticed that the temperature was rising awfully quickly. We would be dealing with some semi-serious heat before our job was done.
All of us dealt with some heavy sun between the shady spots as we continued east through the beautful tree-filled landscape of rural Oregon. The weather had saved its toughest spells for last. Like all of my teammates, I would be carrying a water bottle this time, not so much for the intake, but to dump on myself to prevent overheating.
My third leg was the toughest by far as it started on a heavy incline and never quite leveled out until I hit the top after 3.4 miles. My road kill number was rising though as we were starting to come across some of the slower teams with runners who had had enough out there. I pushed myself to the top and then pushed harder on the severe downhill, just for the sake of getting my count up (my running buddy Chris had claimed 30 road kill on his run...I had to take a crack at it). All told, I took out 33 runners, which would sit as the record for a short while (Chris took out 45 on his next leg...bastard :-))
It's hard to find feelings that compare to having your last set of legs done. No longer would we be sleep-running through the mid-day sun. No longer would we have to watch what we ate, for fear of having an ill-timed accident on the course (we brought plenty of tums). Suddenly we didn't feel quite so travel-weary. We were ready for some well-deserved food and beer.
The perfect spot for this was at a place called the Portway, a bar and grill which had some marvelous microbrews on tap. We took down pitcher each of Black Hook and Alaskan Amber, which helped to wash down some tastey cheese burgers (all 6 of us had the same idea). I also had some clam chowder, which was delicious. I'd highly recommend a stop at the Portway if you find yourself in the area and especially if you find yourself in van 1 for the Hood to Coast relay. Though the food and beer amplified our growing sleepiness, it really hit the spot and the restaurant itself had a fun local feel to it.
Off we were to Seaside, the conclusion of our adventure. The town itself made me think of a combination of Santa Cruz and Palo Alto with a nice beach and ocean awaiting, yet a little more of a yuppified feeling to the down town. It was a nice place to finish. The beach was filled with tents surrounding a finish line that several teams were crossing as we approached. The atmosphere was festive and fun and quite a contrast to what I had seen in April at the scaled down Providian relay (you'd barely know that a race was going on).
Tom rambled into the beach over the finish line to capture our official time, then did it again with his team in tow. As hard as it was to get my legs going for a 4th time, it felt great to finish with the team. We collected our medals and posed for pictures, feeling like a group that had found its 15 minutes of fame. Sleepy smiles emerged on all of us as it felt so good to finish.
We gathered at tables strewn around the beach finishing area and grabbed some beers to cap off our weekend in style. Henry's was on tap and hit the spot as we toasted to our success. A bright white sun was slowly being swallowed by a lightly waving ocean, leaving a pink splash in its wake. Another night was coming upon us that would be full of slumber and recovering legs. We said our goodbyes and rode into the night towards sweet dreams in Portland.
The End.
p.s. The next day, Dennis and I tried a couple of great places to stop for eats and treats in Portland. We stopped for very good lunch at the Southpark Seafood Grill and Wine Bar on Salmon Street (very appropriate street for them to be on). I had Sturgeon over polenta cakes sauteed in a wine-based sauce whose names eludes me, but whose taste was memorabely appetizing. This is a nice place to sit outside for lunch. It's slightly pricey, but well worth it. We then resisted their dangerously-appealing dessert menu and headed to Mio Gelato, which is right across from Powell's book store on Brazee street. I've been Italy, tasting what Gelato is supposed to taste like and I'll tell you, Mio Gelato has done the job. I had some Nocciola which was heavenly. I'll be back there again when I complete the Portland Marathon in October.
