Eat Drink Run Woman

When last we left our intrepid runner she was suffering from a mild case of vertigo as she readied herself for her first leg.  We now turn to her official race report.

Dubbed the “mother of all relays,” Hood-to-Coast stretches 197 miles from Mt. Hood to Seaside, Oregon.  More than 12,000 runners participate; each team has 12 runners in two vans who run three 5-mile legs (give or take a couple of miles).  I ran it in the mid 90s with a corporate team and have been eager to run it again ever since.  It’s become so popular, race organizers instituted a lottery system a few years ago.

When I saw a couple of my fellow Tapirs were running the race I emailed them in January to let them know I was available (teams often have openings as people drop out due to injury).  The Femme Fatale women’s masters team (age 40 and over) had an opening since several members started a supermasters team (age 50 and over).  I didn’t realize at the time they were a competitive team that placed every year, guaranteeing entry into the next year’s race.

During our team meeting the night before, our captain Kris handed out our estimated time/paces for each leg based upon the 10K times we provided.  I had based mine on my speedy Arlington race, but as I looked at the sheet I thought there was no way I’d be hitting those paces given my vertigo.  My first leg (leg 8 of the relay) was an easy 4.55 miles with an estimated 7:53 over pace.  Yikes!  My second leg (leg 20) was ranked “very hard” as it included 800 feet of elevation gain over five miles, finishing with a 3/4 mile downhill.  The estimated pace for that leg was a much more reasonable 9:46.  My final leg (leg 32) was a moderate one — 4.1 miles over rolling hills with an estimated overall pace of 8:52.

Because we were a faster team, our start time wasn’t until 4:15 p.m.  Since I was in Van 2, I wouldn’t run my first leg until almost 10 p.m.  However, that would be the only leg in the dark, so it was good to get it over with.  We took off from Kris’ house at 5:30 p.m. for the hour+ drive to the Fred Meyer in Sandy, OR, where Van 1 would hand off to our van.  My van mates were a great group of women: Lynnette, an Ironman triathlete running her first Hood-to-Coast (and her first relay); Rebecca, Alicia and Cindy, long-time Femme Fatales; and Kris, our team captain.

We arrived in Sandy just before 7 p.m. to a parking lot hopping with activity.  Fred Meyer is one of the sponsors, so runners were streaming in to pick up supplies and a free case of water.  Although I had packed an outfit for each of my legs, I thought I’d need a long-sleeve shirt and pants for the evening.  However, the weather was quite warm and I figured I’d be happier with shorts and a t-shirt.  So I committed the No. 1 runner’s cardinal sin and purchased a new outfit at Freddies (while I’d never do that for a marathon, I figured I’d be fine during a 4-mile run).

One of the most fun aspects of the race is the creativity of the teams, not only in their van decorations, but also their names.  There were the Hot Tamales, a team of women who’d throw boxes of their namesake candies out to the crowd; the Banana Striders, who offered up bunches of bananas to other runners; the Pink Ladies, who raided several thrift stores for everything pink; and the North American Distance Striders who kept everyone motivated by blaring upbeat music from speakers on top of their vans.  (I couldn’t understand why everyone was laughing at their motto, “Go NADS!”)  Considering many choose sleep over showers, several teams used the inevitable olfactory assault as inspiration for their names: Smells Like Team Spirit, What’s that Smell?, Do You Smell Something? and Just for the Smell of It.

After grabbing a bite to eat and visiting the port-o-potties, my van mates and I hiked up to the exchange to wait for van 1 to arrive.  Lynnette was the first to run, and she was blown away by the carnival-like atmosphere.  She took off just after 9 p.m., and the rest of us wished Van 1 a nice nap, jumped in our van and headed to our first exchange.

While the HTC organizers do a bang-up job of coordinating the race, inevitably a few runners and vans get lost.  We took a few wrong turns, but finally found our exchange with plenty of time to spare.  Although Lynnette wasn’t predicted to arrive until 9:50 p.m., we started waiting at the exchange about 20 minutes earlier since she looked pretty speedy when she took off.  By now it was rather dark, however, since she was holding a flashlight rather than wearing a headlamp, we figured she’d be easier to spot.  The minutes ticked by and no Lynnette.  I started worrying when it got to be 9:50 and she still hadn’t arrived.  Then Alicia said something that got the adrenaline rushing through our bodies — were we at the right exchange?  We checked with one of the other runners, and sure enough — we were at exchange No. 8 instead of 7.  D’oh!

We piled in the van and took off like a bandit.  After a couple more wrong turns we finally were on the correct route, however, we were stuck behind Mr. Pokey Joe.  Didn’t they realize our predicament?  We finally arrived at exchange No. 7 only to have several people tell us, “You’re late.”  No shit, Sherlock.  We found Lynnette and I jumped out of the van to grab the wrist bracelet.  After a few Keystone Kop moments (Lynnette ran one way around the van, me the other) we finally met in the middle and I took off.  I had to stop briefly to make sure I hit my Garmin, but then barreled down the road.

The darkness had fully descended, so I wore a clip-on LED on my hat and also carried a Petzl in case the LED didn’t provide enough illumination.  However, since I was running in a residential area there were plenty of streetlights, so I threw the Petzl to my van mates about a mile in (I had asked them to stop to check on me).

While I had no idea how fast I was running, it felt really good.  The darkness actually helped me as I couldn’t see my surroundings moving.  At about mile 2 I glanced down at Garmin and was shocked to see I was running a sub 8-minute mile.  Although I was blinded by oncoming cars on several occasions, I somehow managed to keep up the pace, finishing in 35:43 (7:52 overall pace — 1 second ahead!)  I handed off to Rebecca just before 11 p.m. and settled into my seat for a quick nap.

Just before Kris’ leg I offered to take over the driving.  We met up with Van 1 under the Hawthorne Bridge in downtown Portland where they had caught a couple of hours of shut-eye.  Although it was after 1 a.m. the place was hopping.  In addition to hundreds of Hood-to-Coast runners, a group of unicycle jousters gathered under the bridge to hold their matchups as their stereos blared.  It was quite surreal.

Kris finished her leg just before 2 a.m. and we bid Van 1 adieu.  By now we were all quite tired and punchy, but we still had about an hour drive before we arrived at the Columbia County Fairgrounds.  As we passed through Scappoose we saw an accident investigation, however, we didn’t find out until later it involved an HTC high school runner.

Immediately upon arriving at the fairgrounds we threw down a tarp and our sleeping bags and settled in for a 2 1/2 hour nap.  Despite the crowds I did manage to sleep, although I was awakened mid-way by a blaring car alarm that seemed to go on for at least five minutes.  I crossed my fingers my vertigo would disappear by morning, but as I arose from my slumber I knew sleeping on the ground merely compounded the problem.  I stumbled across the field to the port-o-potties looking like Tipsy McLurchalot.  Fortunately after downing a cup of coffee and sitting upright for several minutes the dizziness faded into a more manageable state.  By the time I had to run at 7 a.m. I felt fine.

My next leg was the hardest at 5.75 miles, mostly uphill (I figured it was pay-back for my all-downhill BQ).  Once again I asked my van mates to check on me, but since I’d be running at a slower pace I figured I’d be okay.  The first two miles were a gradual uphill, followed by a 3/4 mile downhill.  I was psyched to see I came in several seconds under my projected 9:46 pace in the first two miles (9:29 and 9:30, respectively), then completely kicked it during the first downhill, running that in 8:33.  I ran the next 1-mile uphill portion in 9:28, and the next in 9:05 (I was bolstered by the NADS playing “Brick House”).  I once again pushed it into high gear for the final downhill, running it in 7:29 and finishing in 51:50 — about 5 minutes ahead of pace.

I downed another cup of coffee and some pancakes at the next exchange and tried to get a bit more shut-eye.  I once again took over driving duties, but when we took a wrong turn near Jewell and drove about three miles out of our way, I asked Lynnette to take over.  Good call, considering it took us at least another hour before we arrived at the next nap stop (HTC follows a lot of back country roads and some sections become notoriously congested).  Despite the heat we found a shady spot under a tree for another 2+ hour nap.

Remember how I mentioned most runners pick sleep over showers?  To minimize our stank we “washed” ourselves with hand wipes, plus stripped off each outfit after our run and threw it into a Ziplock bag.  While opening the bag at home wouldn’t be pleasant given the clothes would have festered for several hours, at least they didn’t contribute to the van stank.

While Van 1 had to run in the most intense heat of the day, the weather had cooled considerably by the time I ran my third leg.  It was still hot, but bearable.  I passed three other runners before getting passed myself (he must have been an elite).  With less than a half mile to go I spied another roadkill runner and sped up to pass him.  He seemed to be struggling, so I encouraged him to kick it with me to the finish line.  I immediately regretted my decision as he found the energy to sprint.  We saw the finish line to our left, but soon realized it was merely the entrance to a parking lot; the actual finish was several hundred yards uphill.  We sprinted to the exchange and high-fived each other on a fantastic finish (34:00 minutes, approximately 2 minutes ahead of schedule).

Rebecca’s last leg was brutal — eight miles with little shade.  We stopped several times to offer her water, and when we realized few other vans were stopping for their runners, we started handing it out to them as well (our efforts were greatly appreciated).  Alicia’s final leg was a moderate 4-miler, while Cindy’s was a hard 7.28 miles.  As we waited for her at the final exchange one of the race volunteers started expressing concern we wouldn’t finish by the 9 p.m. cutoff (it was about 7:45 p.m.)  We assured her our runner was speedy, but she still seemed skeptical.  Cindy gratefully handed off to Kris a few minutes later and we sped off to Seaside.

While the party was still raging on the beach, several vendors were starting to pack up.  We met up with Van 1, who by now were showered and coiffed.  We waited for the announcer to call our bib number, then ran the final few yards as a team.  Our finish time of 28:10:00 placed us 4th in the women’s masters.  Woo hoo!  (We had hoped to beat our arch nemeses, the Desperate Housewives, but they were far too speedy.  They came in second).  In fact, even if we didn’t lose 25 minutes to our exchange debacle we wouldn’t have placed third.  No matter — we still have guaranteed entry for next year.  (And it looks like I’ll be invited back; Yippee!)

After showers and a hearty pizza dinner we collapsed in our beds (I barely budged all night).  Kris dropped me off at the Portland train station the next day, and I was able to catch up on even more sleep during the 3 1/2 hour trip to Seattle.  It’s now two days later, and after sleeping in and taking several naps, I think I’m finally caught up.  Good thing too, considering I’m running yet another marathon in a week and a half!