Up until this point, travel for a race has always been a long car ride. The streak, has ended. Two plane rides and twelve hundred miles I find myself in Florida for not one race, but four. If a plane is involved, it's best to make sure it's worthwhile, and the Gasparilla Challenge intrigued me enough to part with the $'s in hopes I'd return with some booty. Two days, four races, thirty miles, four medals, and if still standing at the end, one more medal for good measure.
Since starting running, I've noticed I check the weather forecast a ridiculous amount the close it gets to race day. The winter has been brutal this year! One would think I'd be pumped to enjoy the Florida sun, instead it's quite the opposite. Insert wavy dream lines, I have this fantasy where I'm treated to sub forty degree days where all the Floridians are shivering, fearful of frostbite, at the starting line and here I step up confidently in my shorts and shirt. Remove wavy dream lines, wait those aren't dream lines, those are the heat lines seen off in the distance of a desert road getting scorched! My fantasy wasn't too far off looking at the forecasts, leading up to race weekend though the temps steadily increased, Murphy's Law.
The day prior to the first race day, 7 am for a practice run. We'll call this an experiment to first get a feel for what conditions will be like the next day and a test how much my body complains changing from zero temps to 70 degrees with no transition. Log this run as one of the most miserable runs in recent memory. Two miles weren't bad, four I had enough, and by the time we got to six, I was so ready to be done. My shirt weighed eight pounds after that run, which brings me to my next life lesson, putting two guys in the Florida heat, running, and letting them stay together in the same hotel room...probably not smart. The whole rest of the vacation, (is it a vacation when you are running ?) the room reeked worse than a gym in a swamp.
I've been pampered at little in the past, not elite level pampered, but the small taste I got was pretty damn delicious. This series of races draws a huge number of people and the reward of cash money only adds to it. Not many people do the challenge portion of the races, but by doing so gets not only a special bib, but special access to the starting corral. This was something new to me. Instead of being being smash shoulder to shoulder with gross, disgusting, stinky runners like sardines, just stroll right up, flash your bib, and get allowed entrance to this gated community. I could get used to this too.
The first race is a 15K, a hair over nine miles. 7 am, 70 degrees, 100% humidity and I had to smirk when the announcer repeats "we are racing under yellow flag conditions". I didn't need to be told this. The first six miles felt comfortable, but once mile seven hit, the fun was over and the heat started to get to me. Somewhere around here is when this stopped being a vacation. Crossing the finish line felt like a blessing to cool down, but in the back of my head was the reminder that there was still another three miles to go in a about forty-five minutes. More time for the temps to climb even more.
The runner's chute was amazing. Strange thing to get excited for, huh? The design of the thing is perfect. First, it gave space to chill out, slow down, walk, recover, without being on top of each other. From there, people handed out the medals, little further water and cold wash clothes (the greatest thing ever invented after a race). The whole time still walking, now crossing over a bridge where they had pirate beauties posing for post race photos. Next, came the post race food. At this point, you are now looping back under the bridge heading back to the main conference center. Plenty of benches to sit, relax, recover, and for me to cool down. Once it was time to start heading for the next race, enter the conference center, walk through that, but making a quick pit stop at the bag drop to leave my medal and my shirt! At this point vanity is gone, survival is all that counts, besides nobody here knows me or will ever see me again, tough they are going to have deal with my bare chest and back hair.
By the time the 5K was getting ready to start, I was feeling much better than when I crossed the 15K line. Was I going to PR this 5K? Not a chance, I figured it was going to be slowest 5K almost since I started running. While not great, it wasn't as horrible as the final few miles of the 15K were. Repeat the recovery loop and call it a day. Day one is in the books, time to get some breakfast and relax the rest of the day.
The half marathon had me a little nervous, mainly because I made it to about mile seven for the heat started to get to me and knowing that this would only put me about at the half way point, that would be potentially lots of miserable miles. Turns out mile ten turned out to be the questioning point. Once ten hit, I had to have the mental discussion of should I visit a pit stop or suck it up and finish this damn thing. While having this discussion with myself, I ended up running past the bathrooms before I had made the decision, so that made it easy to keep going. While not what I'd call a great time, I think I finished with a respectable time considering jumping climates and it blew the doors off the time of what I'd call my worst half marathon. This was my statement race. It was hot, totally out of my element, and I held my pace for the whole thing.
The last race was the 8K. Two miles in, felt good, tired, but good. Then something clicked and my body told me you've done enough and it's time to take it easy. Combination of the temps and running multiple races in back to back days caught up with me. It was time to finish with a walk run. Not exactly how I wanted to finish up, but survive and race another day. Not here to prove anything, just the booty.
Turned out to be a very fun trip. On one hand, it was nice to get away in the middle of winter for some warmer weather. On the other hand, I missed having CT with me and that made it seem empty. Had we pulled this trip off with the whole Superstar crew, it could have been EPIC. For now, this pirate adventure is over without any missing limbs and a suitcase full of booty.
