The CHaD’s “Outrun the Sun” renamed: “Outrun the Weather”

When I made the list of ten races I’d run this year, I worked hard to space them out so I wouldn’t have to run too many in close succession. The most challenging part of doing this was finding races in the summer, because most races take part in the spring or fall. I managed to only find two spring races taking place late enough after I started training, and when it seemed I’d have to run 8 fall races, I was fortunate to find the NY City Half. But I really wanted to find one more summer race. I thought I was fortunate to find the CHaD Half Marathon, scheduled for August 25^th in Hanover, home of Dartmouth University.

There was only one thing about this race that concerned me…..it started at 4:00 PM on an August afternoon. Now I grew up running in Florida, but only short distances and never during the hottest part of the day. However, the race took place half-way up New Hampshire, which is significantly north of Boston, so I figured that it would be a bit cooler, perhaps in the 60’s, worst case in the 70’s. Besides, the race benefited the Children’s Hospital at Dartmouth, so it seemed serendipitous for me to run it.

The week before the race, as I prepared to travel to the UK on business, the high temperatures in Boston had dipped into the 60’s, so I was looking forward to the race. I spent a week away, never looking at the forecast, and returned on Friday evening, a little concerned about what effects my jet lag would have, but drank lots and lots of water on the plane. To my surprise, as I stepped off the plane I was greeted by balmy moist waves of summer air.

Driving to Hanover, NH the next day, I kept slipping my hand out of the car window to see if the temperature had changed, but unfortunately, it just kept climbing. By the time I reached the area where we boarded the buses we’d take to the race start, the temperatures had reached 89 degrees and a thick haze hung in the air. I arrived two hours early so we took the opportunity to check into our hotel.

Once we were up in the room, I took advantage of the free internet access to check the forecasted temperatures at 4:00 PM….we were supposed to get into the low 90’s (93) with 88% humidity, but they also forecasted a 30% chance of thunderstorms. I checked the race web site to get last minute directions and found a warning that the race might be called off due to weather. (Incidentally, according to weather.com, at 4:00 PM, it was 98 degrees with 61% humidity).

My wife Kerstin kept asking me whether I still planned to run the race, and I told her I would the best I could and that one way or the other, I would finish the race. I even mapped out a strategy for target splits with the goal of finishing in a time of 2:05. I planned to carry that in my hand and refer to it during the race to see if I was on track to finish in my target time.

Back in the parking lot, I waited for a bus, and noted I was breaking a serious sweat without moving at all. I sipped my water nervously and chatted with other runners. I met a couple of women who were running their first Half Marathon, one of them (Marisol) was holding a small cooler with ice and fluids and I thought “If only I could get someone to carry that along side of me!”

Her plan was to keep the liquids ice cold as long as possible then to slip them into a backpack type device that she could sip from at any point. I’ve seen these before but they seem like they’d be hot to wear. In any case, I imparted a few nuggets of Half Marathon wisdom, the most important one being “Whatever you do, don’t start walking. You’ll want to do so around mile 10, but just keep plugging away because once you start it’s difficult to run again”.

At the starting line, it seemed to be even hotter, and those thunderstorms were nowhere to be seen. I mentioned to another runner that I wouldn’t mind a little shower to cool me down during the run, and he said he hated rain while running because it usually meant blisters. My best time ever during a Half Marathon was during a steady, drizzly rain, so I’ve always favored keeping the outside as hydrated as the inside.

I took a 200 yard warm up run before I stretched and instantly the sweat poured down my face. As I stretched, I noticed it took a long time for my heart rate to slow down to resting. I sipped and sipped, but at this point the Gatorade I’d iced down and poured into my bottle an hour ago was as warm as the puddles of water that lay on molten asphalt.

The gun went off and the runners began to run with dread, slowly pulling their legs up as if running on a street lined with Karo Syrup. I looked at my “cheat sheet” and set my sights on my first target split- 9:45, usually a stroll for me. A fellow runner noticed my “Fund Autism Research” shirt and asked me about it, so it was a half mile into the race before I noticed I hadn’t started my watch.

By then, I was running pretty close to my target (on average), but I was working really hard. The first half mile was at a slight incline, but not enough to account for the strong heart beats and voluminous sweat. I ran under shade at every chance I could, but it wasn’t enough. After mile 1, I was on track, but already my legs were burning. At mile two, I was breathing heavily, and I was still only running a 9:45 pace. By mile 3, I knew this was going to be the hardest Half Marathon I’d ever run, and I deserted the 2:05 target. I crumpled my cheat sheet and threw it on the ground. The new goal was finish the race.

Somewhere after mile 4, I saw someone being attended to on the side of the road. The guy was younger than me and he was very pale and drawn. By mile 5, I thankfully found several residents spraying the racers with their hoses. I ran through the cool mist and droplets and each time picked up a little speed, until the water steamed off my skin about a half mile later. By mile 8, I had run through several of these homemade “misting stations” and was really benefiting from it.

For this reason, I didn’t think twice when I saw another water spray ahead, although this one was less a mist and more a big stream from the end of a hose. As I came close, the sprayer, who stood up on a wall, sprayed me down head to toe, soaking me all the way down to my shoes. It felt wonderful and I sprinted ahead a bit with my newfound energy. But my shoes and socks were soaked, and soon I started to feel the beginning of a blister grinding on my ankle.

I stopped briefly and opened up my shoes, hoping that a less tightly laced shoe wouldn’t rub as much on the tender skin below my ankle bone. But by this point the damage had been done. I thought about running without shoes, stopping to look at the blister. It was bigger than a dime and smaller than a quarter and it had already broken. I limped along on one shoe and realized that my feet would be shredded by the time I finished if I attempted this.

I thought about all the races I had remaining, one just the following weekend. I considered all the possibilities, walking without shoes to the end, but then I decided that it was just reckless to try this, and opted to make it up in a later race.

So I found a volunteer who was directing runners around a turn in the course and asked her to call someone to give me a ride to the end. I sat disappointed as I watched several runners run by, including the novice that I’d spoken to at the start. “What happened??” she asked.

At this point, clouds could be seen in the horizon and the sun slowly slid behind them. The temperature dropped by a few degrees in a very short period of time. A small pack of female runners ran by and shortly thereafter the temperature dropped another couple of degrees. Suddenly, the hot day was tolerable. A cool breeze blew by and I again started to think of running without shoes.

But the breeze suddenly became a moderate gale and the flash of lightning and clap of thunder warned that the thunderstorms had finally materialized. Rain started coming down in sheets, the wind made menacing “hwooo” sounds and somewhere not too far away, a loud pop made the pack of female runners scream and turn around. A tree had snapped and fallen in their way.

They stood bewildered staring at the tree and wondering what to do. As if to help them decide, more lighting flashed, this time within 5 miles from us and they quickly leaped into a passerby’s car. The race volunteer I’d been speaking to, ran away yelling “I’m going to my car”. I assumed she’d be by to pick me up, but I waited 5 minutes and she didn’t show up.

As I wondered whether I should lay flat on the ground to protect myself from lightning, a police car stopped and asked if I needed help. I jumped in without answering and we drove along the race route and picked up a couple of other runners. Along the way, we say more downed trees, branches, power cables, and traffic lights. Whatever had blown through had been fierce and merciless.

We drove along the rest of the course and a few runners were determined to complete the course. I felt envious and disappointed at the same time, wondering whether I’d done the right thing. But I also knew that if I’d continued running, I’d have injured my feet further.

Later, when I returned to the hotel, I checked the internet for weather news and found that a string of very serious storms had sped through the area and wreaked havoc. The next day, we visited Woodstock, Vermont, and found the same thing. Damaged houses, streets blocked by massive 70 year old trees uprooted as if they were saplings….it was all reminiscent of Hurricane Andrew from my days in Miami.

I told one of the novice runners at the start of the race to remember that “Pain Is Temporary, Regret Is Forever”, and the day after the race, I meditated on that thought a lot. Truth be told, however, my biggest regret was that I did this race after all, since there were plenty others that could have substituted it. I’m looking for another one to do so in the coming weeks.