Return to the Scene of the Crime

Yesterday, A and I went to the course of a fourteen mile trail race I participated in ten years ago.  It was the second race I ever ran, the first since moving to the west coast, and the only one I have ever medaled in. 

Having just moved from one big city to another, I didn’t understand the concept of trail running and how it could be any different than running on a city sidewalk.  On top of that, I cavalierly capped my training off at around eleven miles.  A accompanied me as I trained, but wasn’t much for racing back then.  On race day, he and my friend N came along to cheer me on at the finish line.

It wasn’t long after the gun went off that I realized I was way in over my city slicker head.  The rocky terrain bruised the bottom of my feet through my minimal sole shoes.  I hadn’t trained hills at all and turns out I had to climb over 3,600 feet.  The descents were even more harrowing, at times so steep I crawled down backwards, ladder-style, as the more sure-footed competitors skipped on by.  The whole thing was brutal.  I swore never again.

Considering I walked the majority of it and was probably one of the last people to cross the finish line, I was pretty shocked when three weeks later I received a bronze medal in the mail.  I couldn’t believe it.  This was no “thanks for participating/everyone’s a winner/you’re special just for being you” medal.  This one had my name engraved on the back and said I came in third amongst all women in my age group.  I never had a prouder moment.  I might have shed a tear.  I took pictures posing with my medal, on good ol’ fashion film no less, and had them developed at the one-hour photo mat in our local drugstore.  I displayed the medal in a place of honor.

Many years later, long enough to forget how unbelievably grueling it was, A and I toyed with the idea of doing the race together.  We went to the website to see when it would be held, and out of curiosity, I checked out my old time.  I gasped.  Their records showed that I came in under two hours.  If my memory was serving me, there was no way that was possible.

I asked A, “Could this be true?” He said nothing, but the look on his face was the same one that my mother gave me when I asked her if they tested me for mental retardation when I was a toddler because I was not as advanced as my older sister.

I called N.  “Do you remember that trail race I did that you came to watch?  Do you remember if I finished in less than two hours?”

“Oh honey, no.  It was more like, uh, four.  Or five.”  Her voice was dripping with pity and I know it pained her to to be so brutally honest.  I'd like to think it hurt her more to say it than for me to hear it, but then again I'd also like to think that I actually came in third.

I don’t know what happened, but obviously someone shaved off a good three hours from my actual time.  I didn’t have the courage to contact the race organizers to correct their version of events.  I still don’t have the heart to throw away the one and only medal that will probably ever have my name on it.  I have since hung it on the broken thermostat in the back office, which seems like a rather appropriate display case for my unearned honor.

The race has since been taken over by a different organization that has thankfully purged all the old results.  Only now that my record has been expunged, I dared to go back to the scene, although this time not for a race, but just for a run.

Ten years wiser, yesterday’s attempt fared a little better.  We ran a good chunk, walked quite a bit, and, despite having a course map, only got lost twice (still a better outing than our Joshua Tree adventure).  Fortunately, we were aided by a lovely group of hikers who gave us water and a granola bar.  Our unintended detour added some distance and all told we covered about fifteen extremely tough miles.

Slowly, slowly we are getting our trail legs under us.  Learning how to tackle the elevation changes, both ascending and descending, and getting used to the hazards of the terrain are proving extremely challenging for me, but I need to keep at it.  I don’t really have a choice since we’re doing a trail race in July.  Maybe if I work hard enough, I can actually place the old fashioned way.  Here’s hoping there are only three people in my age group!