So awhile ago when I started this new job, I agreed, (under duress) to be part of the Portland to Coast Marathon - a walking relay that begins here in downtown Portland, and goes all day and all night, and into the next day ... until your team reaches the coast, Seaside, Oregon. Seems like a good idea at first, sure! New job, new friends, go TEAM! Honestly I was ready to write some serious snark here about it, but truly, now that it's over, I must say it wasn't really that bad a'tall. The venture started on Thursday evening - the team met for carb-load dinners at the Spaghetti Factory, plus wine - lots of wine, in both verbal and liquid-form. We were to meet downtown at 6AM to decorate the vans and prepare for the next 32+ hours.
How to prepare? That night, I still had to pack, iron, wash, dry, shop, prep, and snooze. I flew through my packing list which went something along the lines of.. oh, everything you could possibly think of out of your bathroom cupboards, plus the kitchen sink. Take all those items, plus all your gear, clothes, blanket, book, Advil, etc., and attempt a clown-car maneuver with your backpack. Just keep stuffing, keep stuffing, keep stuffing. Then forget what you stuffed. Then prepare to unzip the trembling load - make sure you're wearing protective eye gear, or standing at least 30 feet away, 'cause it's gonna blow. Do this a minimum of five times before you give up, curse, stomp around, and say eff this, if it isn't in there, I don't need it!
Then, go to the store. You're tired, you're hurried, and you're a little stressed out. This is by far the BEST time to be surrounded by goodies in a grocery store. (Here's the sarcasm folks, try to keep up.) Buy these things: Peanut Butter. White bread. Strawberry jam. Honey. Oreos. Smarties. Gobstoppers. Pringles. Now go home and make an entire loaf of sandwiches out of these items (although some you may want to just keep on the side). You do this, thinking that your teammates maybe aren't as well prepared as you are, so you are bringing enough to feed yourself, your teammates, and any stray herd of cattle that you may happen upon along the way. Thoughtful, no? No. Listen to your team as they make fun of you for bringing so much food. A good way to drown them out? Stuff your face. Or theirs. Against their will is the most fun.
Now it's 2:00 in the morning. Set your alarm for 4:00. Sleep. Sleep really fast. Get up, get gone. Run to the bus. Hey, you're on time, for once in your life, congratulations. The vans are ready, and your group is first! You're amped up at the starting line, your first walker is off and ... well, walking. Back in the van you go. Your leg starts when the first walker finishes - in about 10 minutes. Make sure you chug that venti, extra hot latte before you go. And then you're off, getting your strut on, walkin' like a champ. You're rocking out to Fifty Cent and you're hoofing it - leaving other walk-racers in the dust - we in the industry call 'em "roadkills." So a little over six miles later, you're none the worse for wear - maybe suffering a little road rash from giant semi trucks passing too close. Now hunker down 'cause your next leg of the race doesn't start until around midnight, and you've got a looooonng day ahead.
This is how it goes, all day, all night - one person walking, the rest of the team driving along in the van, pick one up, drop one off, and on and on we go! We finished our first half at about 5PM, and stopped in this big field to rest ... or attempt to. We were parked next to a traffic attendant volunteer, who kept asking me questions about the race, although I thought my being face down in my blanket, arms and legs akimbo, headphones in, eyes closed, somewhat snoring would indicate to even the most slack-jawed of the yokels that I was trying to sleep. He proceeded to ask me things, have conversations with others over my head, and direct vans in mere inches away from my brain box - I gave up on the whole sleep-thing. Overrated anyway, right? Live to walk another leg. And that I did - through Birkenfeld, Oregon (a lovely little town which you can also read about here.) The moon was full and it was an incredible night - and the thought of zombies coming out of the pitch black woods surrounding me certainly made for a nice, brisk pace - although my fellow race-walkers were confused, I'm sure, about the random screams and Chuck Norris stances. Never hurts to be prepared.
So night shift ended, we drove like sleepy bats out of hell for Seaside, where we would await the rest of our team. We parked, and in under three minutes flat, we had a van-full of snoring, cold, sore, stiff, smelly race-walkers. After what seemed like maybe 15 minutes, we woke up, took brief Mexican showers (aka wiped down with cold, wet washcloths - not very PC, I apologize) in Porta-pottys, and shuffled in to breakfast where people were WAY too chipper. Way. Too. Chipper. Seriously. Stay awake for 32 hours, then see how you like life when surrounded by 10 Ned Flandereses.
Soon thereafter our last walker arrived - our team, No Blistered Soles, came in 26th out of 142 teams in the Women's Only group. Our total time for 127 miles was 27:57:22 - average of 13:12 per mile. Pretty damn good! We finished at the beach, blew through a group photo, then half of us made for the hills, half of us made for the beer garden, and I made for the car 'cause by that point, I just couldn't stand it anymore. I read my book and waited for my ride home - and watched all the moronic wrong-way-drivers getting stuck, one after the other, in that tiny lot in the center of Seaside. I don't think I mentioned before that 17,000 people participated in the Portland to Coast/Hood to Coast Relay, and that's not including all the families, etc., who came to meet the participants at the finish line! After watching the cars lined up bumper to bumper, honking, cursing, waving to each other, I'd just about had it. I sat there and cried to my sunburned, exhausted self. Then I felt much better. What an experience. Only next time I'm doing Hood to Coast 'cause the runners don't get picked on as much ... well ... ask me about it next Summer.
The Van...
The Starting Line...
My bed and pillow...
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