The Amazing Race

No, I’m not talking about the show. I haven’t been able to see the show since I got here to Kuwait. I’m talking about the race I entered today, 12 November.

As I said in an earlier post, I want to run a triathlon before I turn 32 in July 2006. Well, what better way to get prepared for it, besides training for it, than to race? So, I told myself and promised my wife that I would enter every race 10 miles and under. I’m not expecting to win much, if at all, but the competition would do me very good.

I never ran track or any such sport in high school or college or anywhere else. The only reason I know anything about track events is because we had a track team in high school, and because of TV. I’m not familiar with the events or even if there are any rules to these types of sports. I know the distances, though, so at least that’s a start. I know that 400 meters is once around the track, or a quarter mile. If you are not used to it, the quarter mile is a tough nut to crack. It’s hard to run, especially on a track.

So, wouldn’t you know it, less than one week after arriving here, there’s a track meet. Not just a race, like running down the road through the post. A full-blown track meet. A man swears to his own hurt, right? So, I was obligated to run in this thing. I asked my First Sergeant to sign me up for the longest event they had, which I figured would be the 1 mile run. There is no way I could run the 100 or the 400 or any of those other quick events. I’m not going to take part in a relay, either. I’m simply not fast enough in short distances. Some people are just built that way.

The day of the race came, and wouldn’t you know it, I had to work late. The race started at 1800. I didn’t get off until after 1700. Now, the camp is very small, but it far too big to get anywhere quickly on foot. I wanted to catch a shuttle, so I started walking. The shuttles are supposed to run every 15 minutes or less. Where I left work and where I live is about 1 ¼ miles. At a quick pace, I can cover that in about 15 minutes, if the ground is good. But, alas, the ground is only good for the first half mile. After that, it becomes rocky and sandy, the perfect combination for slower walking and the possibility of injury if one is not careful. I figured I could walk until a shuttle comes and then catch the shuttle the rest of the way.

The shuttle never came. I walked all the way to my barracks, for about 20 minutes and never saw a single shuttle. By the time I got to my locker, I was sweating and I still had to change and go back to the track! I changed and headed back out the road. Still no shuttles. By this time, I only had about 10 minutes left to get there. I wasn’t thrilled about running the race anyway. I knew I wouldn’t run as fast as the folks who were there because they thought they could win. By this time, I’m getting the “Well, maybe…” thoughts in my head. “Well, maybe it would be okay if I missed this one. I did have to work late after all.” “Well, maybe it’s for the best. I’m kinda tired from that long walk.” You know the drill.

By the time I got to the second stop, the shuttle picked me up. It’s not a fast shuttle, but it’s faster and a lot less frustrating than walking.

I got to the track and get off the bus at exactly 1800. What do I hear? “On your mark! Get set! Go!” Another case of the “Well, maybe…” But, I thought I would at least see what was going on. I worked my way around to the other side of the track and waited until the race was finished. It was over in about 5:30. That’s one mile, mind you. Almost immediately after the race concluded, they announced that if anyone wanted to race in the final heat, head to the infield of the track! Saved!

I talked to the race coordinators and they hemmed and hawed about letting me race. I was a late entrant (My First Sergeant didn’t sign me up after all) and they already had five competitors and only five lanes. So, I asked several times, simply explaining that all I wanted to do was compete and that I didn’t expect to win. They conceded and let me in the race, but not as an actual competitor. I could run, but basically only under the condition that I didn’t win, which I knew I wouldn’t anyway. So, I made my way to the track.

And then they told me I couldn’t race. They told me that if I even finished the first lap ahead of any of the competitors, it would mess up the timing (I don’t know how) and it would be bad for the race. I assured them that if any of the competitors were going to run any of the laps in 1:30 or under, it wouldn’t be a problem. I again explained to them that I simply wanted to race. They thought about it and agreed. For the final time.

What struck me as the most odd is how friendly the racers were. They all had a front row seat to this spectacle and when I was finally given permission to race, albeit behind one of the racers instead of next to them, they were all quite happy, actually. They were very supportive, said I had a lot of courage and just told me to have fun that it wasn’t all about the winning. I guess it was easy for them to say that because they were going to be the ones that were doing the winning, but whatever. But all of them gave me high-fives and hand shakes and a very warm welcome. I think this helped me relax and settle down a lot.

And we’re off! The race itself was uneventful. I ran the first two laps in 1:40 each. I don’t remember what my third lap was, but I finished with a time of 7:15, which is not altogether bad (1:48 per lap average; my third lap must have been terrible, like 2:00 or something) for a non-runner like me. Sure, it’s not earth-shattering, but it’s about a minute faster than what I thought I might do. And, only the fastest guy lapped me, and then only on the final turn. The others had no chance of lapping me. And I actually did come close to overtaking the last guy in the second lap. He was within a few meters, but the third lap has always been my worst for some reason, so he was able to pull ahead (or I just fell behind).

One thing I did notice is that the crowd cheered for me just as much as they cheered for the guy that won. They all pulled for me and yelled things like, “Come on gray!” (I was wearing my gray Army PT shirt.) and “You can do it! Stretch it out!” I had never experienced that kind of thing before. It was a small crowd, but it made me feel very good about myself and those around me. I can see how major sports figures can get addicted to the cheering of the crowd.

So, as the saying goes, the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, and I took that first step tonight. I have passed the threshold from someone who runs to being a runner. And, I even got a T-shirt.