Hand over foot over hand over foot...

So, in my mind, I would like to think that I'm an avid rock climber. Yes, I did some indoor rock climbing a little less than two years ago and I loved it. I never went back, but the experience has always been one of my favorites of my time here in Texas.

After I came back from Kuwait, I picked up some weight, maybe about 15-20 pounds (partially from getting my wisdom teeth out and not being able to exercise for almost a month- complications....) and I needed to lose it. So, I started running more. And more. And not much happened.

I decided that I needed a new hobby since I no longer play video games. (Oh, wait... I'm going to have to blog about that, too.) I already have a lot of experience in Karate, so I didn't want to do that all over again, so I figured I'd take up something that is healthy and fun. Rock Climbing it is!

So, I made that decision and on the day that I was going to go down to the local rock climbing gym, I had a doctor's appointment because my right thigh had been hurting for a while, and a few days of rest didn't get rid of the pain.

Turns out, because of all the running I've been doing lately, that I likely have a stress fracture in my right femur. Don't know for absolutely sure, but I have a Bone Scan on 1 May, possibly earlier if I can get squeezed in because of a cancellation.

So, I can't run, I can't bike, I can't climb. I'm just supposed to take it easy for 30 days or more.

But, I can swim and that's cool. I've never done any kind of athletic swimming before. So, every day, I go down to the indoor pool and I swim for 30 minutes. It is much more enjoyable than running, and it's better for me, too.

So, hopefully, I can get through this low point in my physical health rather quickly so I can get on with my life. I've got some stuff I need to get done but I can't do until I get better.

My First 5k

So, my first official distance run was a 5k (3.1 miles) that occurred on Thanksgiving Day. It was called the Gobble Wobble Run, but most folks have since called it the Turkey Trot. It started at 0600 on the other side of camp, which means I had to get up at 0500 for personal hygiene and get on the bus at 0530 so I could get in a decent position before the start. It was supposed to be a day off. I should have been able to sleep in until any time that I wanted. But nooooo. I had to participate in this race.

So, there I am at the starting line, 20 minutes early. At first, there weren’t too many folks out there. But, about 10 minutes to start, it was shaping up to be a regular human traffic jam. The “appeal” of the run was to be a T-shirt for the first 600 finishers. Of course by now, you should know my goal was to get the shirt, not necessarily to place. All I had to do was come in at least 600^th and I would be happy.

My first observation about the race wasn’t about the race, actually. It was the music. During any kind of “official” Army athletic event, someone is always designated to play some really good music to get everyone feeling good. Usually, soldiers pick the music. This time, there was a bit of difference. The local workers (Third Country Nationals, or TCNs) picked the music and it was especially bad. I think they were playing “The Age of Aquarius” or something equally awful. I mean, I hadn’t heard of any of the songs but one, and it wasn’t even a good one. So, it was definitely an interesting start to the event.

Before the race, folks started to get up to the starting line and I was already there, so I didn’t have much to move. By luck, I looked behind me and someone I went to AIT with and I went over and said hello. We had a brief conversation before I wrestled my way back up to where I had been before.

And then the race started. And I didn’t move for nearly five seconds. I had seen this occur on TV and in movies, but I never experienced it for myself. Once I started moving, I really thought everything would clear up. I was wrong on that. For the first quarter mile, I would say, I was ducking and weaving, dipping and dodging to get around folks. It’s hard to pass when everyone is so close together. We were only on a two-lane road and that many people took a while to thin out. I would say that probably up to the first third to half a mile went really slow. So slow in fact that when I got to the first mile marker, my time was over nine minutes, which is really bad, even for me. Still, everyone else had the same problems I had, so I wasn’t feeling too bad about the whole thing. I thought, though, that once the first mile was out of the way, the race would go better for me. I was wrong about that.

Almost immediately after the first mile, we made a right turn into a wicked crosswind. In addition to the wind, the third half mile was completely uphill, probably a 2 or 3 percent grade. By this point, I realized that I was being passed a lot more than I was passing. I ran the second mile in a bit over eight minutes, so it was a bit of an improvement, especially considering the wind and the incline.

The third mile was rather uneventful, but it was difficult, not just because I was almost done with the race, but because I made an effort to not be passed by anyone. I did my best to speed up and run as fast as those wishing to pass me. I was able to hold most off, with only a few breezing by. Judging by my finishing time, though, I think speeding up probably got be back to my original speed, instead of getting me any faster.

Apparently, one of the units here got the idea that they would run this race for PT that morning. So, a whole unit ran the race in formation, calling cadence the whole way. It was rather motivating for me. They weren’t running fast, but all those soldiers yelling were a great impetus for me to keep driving forward.

And the race ended at the quarter-mile track, right where we started. I finished in 26:30. Not a terrible time, really. It averages to a little less than 9 minutes per mile, 8:50 to be exact. I didn’t finish last, like I did in the Track Meet, so I guess I could say it was improvement.

So, we lined up around the track to get T-shirts. After I was there a couple minutes, that unit runs right up on us and past us to the registration desk. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. This turns out to be significant later.

While we’re lined up to get registered and get our T-shirts, some person yells from across the field, “We’re almost out of shirts. If you want one, come over here.” Well, what do you think happed? Yup, everyone beat feet over to the registration desk. I made my way across the field, but by the time I got there, it was pretty much a free for all, like food being handed out to starving people. It was unfair, really, because there were a lot of folks who finished in the top 600 that did not get shirts. And there were a lot folks who finished well past the 600 mark that did get shirts, including that unit that ran around to the registration desk and picked up a shirt for each person in the unit. I did not get a shirt. I’m not even sure I deserved a shirt, but I’ll never know for sure.

I went over to see my commander, who had a shirt. He noticed that I didn’t have a shirt and asked me what happened. I explained and he freely gave me his shirt. I noticed that he ran this race in a T-shirt from some other race, so something tells me that this was just another shirt to add to his collection.

The winner of the race ran the 3.1 miles in 17:10. So, I’ve got about 9 minutes to knock off my time before I can get to that point. I don’t think that will happen anytime soon, but I will work on it. After all, no one takes off that much time from their run at one time. I’ll simply be happy with taking a minute or two off my time.

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.