Wild Card Race of the Grand Pricks Series, #6
The Outer Limits
This is the last Wild Card Race
installment in the twenty one race series. Most running mags
who report on these races center around who won and quick times. This
blog revolves around the seamy underbelly in each race; the also-rans: the
has-beens: the crippled: the infirm: the insane.
These are my people. Read on.
02/17/07
Martha's Vineyard, MA, February 17, 2007
I want to thank every volunteer and organizer, but first and foremost Hillary Hewitson for getting me to safety. This is a great course and a wonderful event...if you train for it.
I didn't.
My insurance policy was signed after the Paddy Kelly Road Race when Hillary told me she'd run the first five and last five miles of this race with me.
"Cool" I said, and I told her that I really need the help.
At that time, I didn't know how true that was.
A rare Saturday race began with a call on Friday from my pal Jim Dupont saying meet him at his house on the way down to Woods Hole.
"Please try to talk me out of this" Jim says.
I proceed to tell him that I haven't run since Derry due to a nasty sinus infection.
"So please talk ME out of it, Jim!" I reply.
I pull into the Jim and Mary's house to find Bill and Hillary idling out front.
"We Ready?" I say, trying to put on a game face.
Jim ambles out and I tell them I oughta take my car too since I owe a few folks dinner and I'll probably be coming back late.
Bill and Hillary take off and Jim rides with me.
We make it to the 8:15 ferry to find it loaded with runners and infested with RATs.
3 to 5 foot seas make the short trip rather queasy for me, I get seasick on big boats real easy.
It's sunny and 28 degrees with a stiff north east wind.
At Vineyard Haven we make our way to the playhouse for shelter.
I call Dave and Gail Martin who have stayed the night before and beg them to let us come over but Dave says they're on their way down. So we hang out with till race time in the crowded playhouse.
At the start it's friggin cold, that wind despite the sunshine makes things way below zero frigid.
We line up and after singing the national anthem, Hillary and I set out on a leisurely pace, First mile 8:54.
We make our way over the causeway and into Oak Bluffs at mile two, 8:49, wind our way around the shore to three: 8:55, four: 9:08 and five, another 9:08 for 45:02.
I confess to Hillary, that I really should be running 10's, I'm running a little fast and this is like money in the bank. She's peels off with Bill waiting and I'm on my own.
There's a little out and back, I spy RATs: Ray Boutotte, Rick Jones, Judy Ramvos and Sarah Winkley. Other than that, the runners at this point are pretty strung out and I'm alone with my demons, er thoughts.
The scenery along the course is island fabulous.
I've been here in August, but this is great too.
I notice I'm very cold but shrug it off and try to pick up the pace through six, the wind is howling now, slicing right through me. bone chilling cold: 9:29 for 54:31.
Mile seven along the shore to Edgartown is unprotected and wind exposed: 9:38 for 1:04.
Miles eight and nine I'm feeling the sun warm my cheeks and I not sweating, 9:44, and a 10:05.
I'm looking around seeing the mainland and Chappaquiddick, truly inspiring and at ten turn inland, an even 10 for 1:34:49.
I planned on a 1:40 for ten so I'm ahead of schedule.
Mile eleven: 10:19, Judy and Sarah pass by.
Along the bike trial which winds it's way to the center of the island, mile twelve, 10:45.
I'm really cold, but enjoy checking out the scenery, thirteen, 11:37 for 2:07:32.
I'm slowing and at fourteen, 13:19, I'm walking.
I check out my watch and see I'm in trouble.
By fifteen, 13:33, 2:34:24. I'm looking for Hillary.
The bike trail is a constant series of rollers and I know I'm not gonna run any more.
Legs cramping horribly, my chest is cold, fingers numb, and stomach in knots, I see Hillary coming towards me, I put on a game face and try to pick up the pace, Hillary asks how I'm doing, and I bravely reply that I gotta walk it in, not letting that I'm toast and I can't possibly finish.
We yap it up, and it works getting my mind off the hypothermia through the turn at mile 17 at 3 hours.
It took 18 minutes and 39 seconds to get to mile 18 and Hillary calmly kept me going.
At this point I lost the use of my hands, my arms limp beside me, coordination was gone, yet Hillary stuck with me, not letting me give up.
Another 17 minutes, 31 seconds to mile 19 and I would have preferred to lay down and stop, my hams and quads locked up but Hillary stubbornly refused to let me quit.
The last turn to the finish the volunteers cheered me on and somehow I crossed the finish to find Bill standing there. 3 hours 54 minutes.
I honestly had no idea where I was.
Together they walked me to the school and found my backpack, race t-shirt and prodded me into the bus.
I don't remember the ride on the bus or even the ferry ride back to Woods Hole or how I got home!
I really don't.