The Road

A few goosbumps appear on my arm. I feel the heat in my core and my legs feel loose, with a slight ache from the recent training."Four minutes to start." I feel ill. This was a stupid idea. I hate racing. Why did I come here? Time for one more stride, and then pop back to the line. The legs are feeling a little pop.

Fear. I know what I'm going to do to myself. There's a light and shifting breeze. The sun is too bright. The air is clear and cool. Someone prays. We sing the anthem. I join in. Everyone joins in. I just want to get this over with. Let's go.

I blink.

The wisp of smoke appears at the barrel of a shotgun, but I heard only a high-pitched pinnnnnnggggggg. And the legs are running. Must contol. Conrol. Control. The legs feel nothing. They work. They are light. I don't even breathe. The road is nearly dead flat in front of me. Huh. Dead. They call this The Roadkill. I can feel a dozen runners close behind me, and see a few in front of me. Tight. Close. There's some kid in basketball shoes. There's some guy who looks like he'll fade.

There's someone clomping. Focus. Focus. Look at those three. I can hack it. But the people

behind me, I can feel them all. If I relax too much, they will take me. Run, just run. Feel the breathing. Feel the legs. Focus.

There's a man on the side of the road up ahead. He's saying, "seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,

twenty, twennntyyyyyyyyyy......" I pass him. Ha! Oh, Mile. That was a mile. It was flat; dead flat. A

little shifting cooling breeze, but no sensation of heat or cold. But I can feel the heat of the runners, still here, still around me, a few in front, and all the rest behind.

In front of the mile I see a line of trees.

Oh. The road goes down, down, down, and drops out in front of me. A gentle downhill, and then a right turn at about 1.4 miles. I am breathing now, and I can feel it, like the edge of panic. There are runners behind me. 30 feet below the starting elevation.

I turn right. I see this. It is a hill. The sun is behind me and the road looks white. The bright autumn morning sun. For the first time in the race, I can hear something. Just breathing, my own breathing, and barely the sound of my own feet. The hill is not much, but just relax, relax,

relax, and let it come to me. About 45 feet up. that's all. And now again I am dropping down, down through the trees, with a couple of houses on my right, and some industrial business on my left. Mile two. Ugh. I can feel this in my legs. It's too early.

I look up. On pace now, uh, wait, actually about 12 seconds ahead of last mile. Must be the downhill. In the groove. Just running. Let it flow. Feel the feet hit lightly, little sound, snick, snick up the hill. It does not look too long.

Oh, it still goes up. It flattens out, but still goes up. The hill goes on. There's a couple of trailers on the right. Then a nice house. Nice gate. Nice white fence. It's the Crawford's place. That's what it says at the gate.

Three minutes. Uphill three minutes. But it is runnable. Just a gentle rise now, and I can see the drop up ahead. No water. I don't need any water. What is that on my left? A natural gas compression station. Up about 85 feet over the start. It's not much. I can see OKC from here. I can see Mt. Scott. It seems high.

Down, damn. Down. Damn. Too fast. But short. Fun at this point, but I'm going to have to turn around. I put some distance behind me and the clomper. But I can still hear him. Ha! there is some roadkill here. Ugh, I can smell it. I can smell it.

And suddenly uphill again. This one is steep, but short. I must have missed mile three. The time is past. No one is close to me any more. I've lost contact. Losing contact. It's good and bad. Can't relax. This hill is short, but steep. It's not fun any more. Wow, open all around, where did the trees go? I can see the bridge. Over the interstate. Mile 3. Damn. I did miss it. Mostly uphill. It will be Ok. Ok, right? Now about 13 seconds behind. I know I shouldn't curse, but dad-blast this course.

Oh, this downhill is long. Fourth downhill. I've been up three so far. I've been already to the highest point on the course. The downhill feels a little too long. But now there is irrevocable distance between me and the next guy. It is good. Patience, patience. And now back up again.

And to the turn. Left. And back down hill. The hills almost come easier now. Each one is like

the last. Just run 'em.

Downhill steadily again. And over the interstate. Again. And through some curves. Mile four. Oh, almost back on pace. But it was more downhill this mile. Run on. Getting harder to concentrate now. Just a little burn in the legs. Breathing hard. Everything is still fine.

Back up and down a little hill, then a longer climb in front of me. I can see one runner out in front of me. It looks like he is struggling. I think I can catch him. I think I am catching him. 40 seconds. Just timed the interval to that mailbox. He's going up the hills slower. Just took off too fast, I guess. His mistake. I'll catch him. Ah!

He turns. Time it. I see the waterstop.

The turn. 29 seconds. Yellow house. I'm catching him. And now down. I am gaining fast. Forgot to mark that last mile. But I know I am catching him. I know I can hang on.

Faster, faster down this hill. Then up and down a mere bump. It's nothing. I tell myself it's nothing. Mile six. The legs are starting to protest. They burn going back up to the turn. There is no stopping. I can still feel the runners behind me. There is a lot of race left.

And now to the turn. Right. This one stretch, then left and I'm done. But the miles feel longer now. Let it burn. Let it go over the line. Push. No holding back. Each mile. Another mile. Hay.

And down, and up again. this is the tenth uphill. And down nine so far. Not much longer. Only one real uphill, then the last uphill, and a bump. Twelve uphills in all, and down 12. Depending on what you count as a hill.

Three miles to go. I catch him. I pass easily. But I can barely keep running up this stretch. The legs are screaming. Like logs, slow. Heavy. The breath is ragged. I run. He's still very close. The legs do not recover going downhill anymore. They feel like rocks, stiff. Unresponsive. Water-stop again. I take nothing. A light numbness comes over me. Hands are numb. They feel cold. It is sunny, but the world seems dark, like running through a tunnel with a bright spot on the road as I run ahead. There is nothing, nothing. I sense no one behind me. No one in front of me. Alone. Last turn, left, and up again. But there it is. Mile nine done. One more. Push.

The last flat mile. Gritting teeth. Grinding. Quads aching. Hamstrings tight. Keep pumping. I know he'll catch me now. Don't look. Feel nothing. This feels horrible. Give in to the pain. Become the pain. Everything fades. There is no world, no sound. There is just burning. And I see a man waving me right, there it is! Finished. Done. Retching. Horrible. Done. Done. Done...