Status post deadly race.

I nearly died yesterday. 3 different times. It is surprising how stupid yet lucky I was, looking back with my 20/20 hindsight. I'm writing the following down as a record to learn from, so I never repeat those mistakes, and so that others may benefit as well.

That said, yesterday's events was a wonderful relapse of my adrenaline addiction. After a year of semi-serious running, I entered my first organized race: Los Chupacabras de la Noches 10k. A hard 6.3 miles through wooded trails from 9pm to 11pm. Yes, at night in near perfect moonless darkness. After the sharp crack of the starting gun over a thousand headlamps activated and lit up the trails like drunken fireflies on our sweaty heads. In addition, the trail was marked with flour and glowsticks so that we would not head down the wrong trails and fall to our deaths.

1. The Fall

There were 3 starting waves because for the majority of the race we were literally tearing through the woods in single file lines. If you started in the first wave but run pretty slow you would bog down the hundreds of runners behind you. If you run at a fast pace but start too far down the line you would end up trying to pass runners in front of you. This was my was case, and how I almost died the first time around.

I put myself at the end of the 2nd wave because hell, it is my first race and I did not want to bog down anyone. Or so I thought. For the first half mile it was a press of sweat humanity simply walking up and down trails because of the many bottlenecks as the starting parking lot turned into a road and then into a single trail. Interesting start to my first race, with interesting conversations along the way. Most revolved around my use of Vibram Five Finger running shoes. It was the one thing right thing I did that night because there was no earthly way I could get rocks stuck in my shoe since it was essentially a second skin. I had mastered how to use them after a year of use, and it was freaking amazing. I nimbly dodged grasping branches, dashed up and down gullies, and leaped over rocks with ease.

A little overconfident, I started to pass runners in front of me. I really should have started in the first wave because I stopped counting the runners I passed at 25. My brief hubris blinded me to the first disaster of the night- I nearly fell to my death. I was just passing another runner when several things happened simultaneously: my light briefly went out leaving me in the dark, a root hid the fact that the trail had started to dip, and most importantly the sides of the trail fell away suddenly.

There is no way for me to describe the wave of terror/adrenaline that slammed into me as I realized I was going crack my head open on a rock on the way down. In a split second, I somehow threw a leg out and threw my weight forward while moving down to lower my center of gravity; the rest of that second found me sprawled out on the trail. With the rest of my diminishing wave of adrenaline I peeled myself off the trail before I was trampled to death, or at the very least prevented a domino effect of runners crashing into each other in the dimly lit forest.

For the rest of the race I spent every other second repeating to myself don’t die don’t die don’t die. Lets see. I ran for another hour after that, and there are 3600 seconds in an hour.

I also started to call out roots, rocks, dips, and branches as soon as I encountered them since I was leading my own little pack for most of that hour. We were the 2nd wave people who really should have been in the first wave, just blasting our way through the slower runners in front of us. It is a little weird developing a protective relationship with total strangers that you have just met but never really see. I recognized their voices once they started to pass down my shouts of "rock! Dip ahead!" but that's all I have, because by the fifth mile I was seriously overheated, and told them to pass me up. "Good luck, good luck," I mutter as the alpha wolf loses his pack, quite the emotionally wrenching moment I tell you.


2. The world was ending, according to my brain

I trudged through the last mile in desperation because I really did not train that well for this race. Since I am on summer break, any discipline from the year is long gone, including my usual running regimen. I also conveniently forgot that the water stations were NOT at the end of the race, and thus did not bring my water bottle. This is crucial, because of how the Vibrams work. Normal runners strike the ground with the heel of the foot, which means a lot of the energy is absorbed by bone, ligament, and tendon. When compared to the muscles of your foot, they seem like supermodels on a diet in terms of how much energy they consume. Now with the Vibrams, my entire gait changes, beginning with what part of the foot hits the ground. I run like a cat or a dog, with the balls of my feet touching down on the ground first, with the energy dissipated through the muscles of my foot, and especially my calves (they are humongous now). The upside is I am indestructible- no injuries, no aches or pains anymore. This is how humans evolved to run- and how they caught dinner: endurance running until their prey dropped from exhaustion. But this also means that I need to down swimming pools' worth of water to keep them running each time I run.

By the time I crossed the finish line, the world was ending. I was so dehydrated parts of my brain was shutting down. I wobbled over to the ice chest in search of Gatorade but only found water. Fuck it, I thought and downed cups. Things continued to get worse. I was like a prisoner strapped down for a lethal injection- I knew what was coming and could not stop it. Earlier this year I had taken a sports medicine elective and helped out with the Big City Marathon, and learned about how dehydration and hyponatremia could mess you up.

They were out of Gatorade! Fuck! I thrashed my arms around in the ice chest searching to no avail. I met my immediate need for water, but the disorientation and wobbling got worse. Physiologically, the water was getting into the system, but without electrolytes to keep it in the blood, it floods into the organs, especially the brain. I had just taken neurology so I knew I could not feel my brain swell. But it was because things were horribly wrong. I was going to collapse from lack of motor control, but that I was not worried about. What was scary was the loss of inhibition. For the first time, the primal drive for survival reared its ugly head, in the midst of stormy waves of neurotransmitters and hormones rocking my nervous system. I was exhausted, and human decency did not exist anymore.

I swiftly stole a gallon of water for myself when I knew it I should share it, and that it would only worsen my condition if I drank it all. I almost turned hostile in search of the Gatorade, so I forced myself to dodge the crowd and stumble back to my car. Panicking, I wanted to call my friend in San Antonio to drag me out, but I focused on getting my electrolytes. I slammed back a can of Dr. Pepper and 2 bananas that I scavenged, and then put myself through excruciating stretches to ward off cramps. Like a druggie going through withdrawal, I weathered the physiological storm muttering to myself and walking around in circles.

Looking back it's almost funny how unprepared for this race I was. Should have done a lot of things, planned better. Could have been a lot worse though. There was already one ambulance out for a runner, could have been another one for me if my focus on survival had flinched one bit.

3. Psychopath

Half way home out on the road, I really needed to pee. Thankfully, my fluids and mental status were back to normal, but I was still worried about cramping. Best case scenario my foot cramped and I swerved and crashed. Worse case scenario I swerved and crashed into another car, killing a whole family. However, I never anticipated the situation where I get brutally murdered by a psychopath though.

My bladder instructed that pull over into this decrepit and deserted rest stop. I found my way to the restroom, but what the hell all the men's rooms were locked. In desperation I found my way around to the other side but they were locked as well. Well I could try the women's room.

Before I could try the door, a slowly squeaking wheel announced the arrival of…someone from the far end. From the darkened far end of the stop a strangely muscular man in a janitorial jumpsuit strolled towards me, pushing a mop in a yellow bucket. He was balding, but greasy strings of shoulder length hair waved around in the air. Just like Harold and Kumar.

I took a step towards the door to the outside, just in case.

The guy walks right up to me, stares me down, then points to where he came from. Neither of us say anything but I find the an unlocked urinal and pee in record time. I look around as I head out but there is no sign of the guy. No wet floors or anything. Weird.

The whole way back I'm checking my rear view mirror and keep seeing dirty white vans the entire way home.

_________________________________________________________________

I'm writing this the day after, where I was working as an EMT for the Opera again tonight. I got a chance to do my stuff in the middle of the opera hall, with hundreds of people watching. I even had 2-3 physicians offer to help, but I did not want to get their tux's dirty so I handled it on my own until my backup arrived. And the good karma I earned by saving a lady's life resulted in straight green lights THE ENTIRE WAY HOME. Made a 20 minute trip in 10 without speeding!