I traveled down on the Saturday before the race anyway, and to also scope out how this might work. When you have a point to point race, you need to plan much better than when you finish where you start.
Do you take a bus to the starting line or do you have someone drop you off?
The finish line is in downtown and it is a grand city with history that can match Philadelphia, Richmond or Boston with historic narrow cobble streets to new, mile high sky scrapers.
On Saturday before the race and after picking up the race bib, we walk around downtown and look for a place for lunch and finally duck into a nice cozy New England pub. The only other customers in the place are there for the same reason; food and the next day's race.
We get talking and I mention the Bear Mountain Challenge and they top me one better by talking about the Dances With Dirt Race in Hell, Michigan. Mary had already run 5 races this year! After they left I wondered if we would see them again.
The next day starts out weird, weird in that I slept in my own bed. Providence is only about 45 minute drive from Quincy, so we just jump in the truck and headed for the starting line. No parking at the starting line so Kimberly drops me off about a 1/4 mile from the starting line approximately 20 minutes before gun time with a promise to meet me at the finish line.
It is cold and rainy and I regret not wearing a plastic garbage bag to keep warm. The start is delayed due to so many people that showed up late.
At about 10 AM, the scheduled start time, it starts pouring and the guy next to me says it will start hailing in 5 minutes. If he only knew about Bear Mountain just 3 weeks ago...
April 12th Bear Mountain Challenge started at 5 AM and you needed to wear a headlamp just to see. Thinking back, what we were doing running in the dark woods must be similar to what it would be like to be charging up a hill as a Marine. Not a US Marine (we didn't have guns, just water bottles), mind you, but more like a Canadian Marine, and not out to root out the Taliban, but more likely going to find out who was growing marijuana in the woods.
I can just hear it now where the Sargent barks to a grunt,
"Order the pizza now, before we burn up all these plants!"
"Why would we do that, eh?"
"Don't you remember how hungry we got last time waiting for the food?"
"How will they find us?"
"Tell them to follow the smoke, eh?"
Finally the gun goes off about 15 minutes late and the Cox Providence, RI Marathon is on its way. We start up the hill while a steady rain hits us, the wind is calm and the temp is about 45 degrees.
By mile 8 it had stopped raining and the hail never did come.
Most of the run was through city streets, with the exception of a bike trail along the river for about 5 miles that proved to be cold and windy, to say the least. Why must a race always have a tough part? Maybe it is just me and my perception and others would say a different part of the race was The Challenge.
The last five miles of this race was a real torture for me as I slowed down and tried to focus on the deed at hand. I had done many races before, so I knew what to expect, why was this one killing me at the end?
Perhaps it is the fact I have a history with these things and maybe, just maybe, trying 3 races in 6 weeks was being a bit arrogant.
Did I think I had such a physical fitness base that I didn't need to commit to training as much, yea that was probably it.
It also didn't help that 2008 now has three races in the bag and all for all three started in the rain.
Fifteen minutes after the finish we hook up with our new Friends from the day before. These are my people, the energy in their eyes is obvious for someone that had set a goal, had the guts to start and the high from finishing - can't be found anywhere else.
Time to redouble my efforts and get serious, especially considering my July trip to Alaska where the racing application form states you are responsible to get yourself (and or your body parts) off the mountain, for there will be not any rescue efforts made due to rescuers safety issues. Sounds like my kind of a race.
