Healthy Living: The race that wasn’t

It had been four months since I last raced, and the itch to commit to something had grown incessant. Following the lead of my running partner, Erin, I signed up for the Santa Cruz Mountains 21k, a trail race from Harvey West Park through Pogonip and deep into Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park, with two waist-deep river crossings.
In the week leading up to the race, I followed a “mini-cleanse” by eliminating alcohol, coffee, wheat and dairy. I knew it would not be easy, considering I had dinner events both Friday and Saturday before the race, but when was anything worth doing ever easy? I took a giant veggie salad to Friday’s event and a quinoa salad for Saturday evening. Sunday morning, I awoke before sunrise, geared up, enjoyed some warm oats along with my first cup of coffee in eight days, and buzzed over to the race.
At the starting area of the race, Erin and I mingled with other racers and quickly learned that the event organizers had not yet arrived. More than 100 people in various running getups milled about the start area, all missing one critical component — their race bib. Nobody had a clue as to the mystery of the absent organizers. At 8:30 a.m., a group of determined runners gathered at the start line and charged out onto the course. They had come to run, and that’s what they intended to do.
At 8:40 a.m., Erin and I toed the start line. Both of us had come with personal goals, so we decided to stick to the original plan and run the course as a race. We started our watches and headed up the first hill. Thankfully, we knew every trail and turn, because it turned out there were no ribbons marking the course.
Though many of my fellow runners had resolved to treat it as a fun run, I kept my game face on. I didn’t train, sacrifice and endure a week of food cravings for nothing! Not to mention, I had told all my friends, clients and family about the race, and I wanted to have a good story to share with them.
Upon reaching the turnaround, I realized that I was within reach to finish under two hours — a goal I had secretly set for myself (but not stated aloud, worried that with 2,175 feet of elevation gain, it might be too aggressive). I maintained my pace and pushed on.
At the second river crossing, another runner asked me, “Why are you running so hard? What’s the point?”
I answered, “Because I want to see what I can do.”
Why else does one race? It’s not for the prize money; there is none — not in trail racing anyway. It’s not for the cheesy ribbons that bear a striking resemblance to the ones my kids get at swimming lessons. We race to test ourselves, to see what we are capable of.
Charging ahead, I kept my eye on the time and dug in. Pushing all the way to the finish line, I came in at 1:58, achieving my goal of beating two hours and finishing only 1 minute, 40 seconds behind the course record.
There were no awards, no official results and no post-race refreshments. I stuck around a while, cheering in other finishers and chatting with fellow runners. One couple had driven all the way from Fresno to run the 29k. They got completely lost and ended up running about half that distance, but, like me, they were glowing with the joy of running such beautiful trails. An 11-year-old boy, running with his dad, finished strong and completed his first 10k (they missed the turnaround and actually ran about 12k).
We ran the race that wasn’t that day. There was no race clock, no course markings, and no aid stations. Many went off course, some running fewer and others running more miles than they had planned, but everyone who I saw cross the finish line had a smile on their face. Just like me.
Two days later, the organizers posted on their website that the race had been canceled due to health trouble. They apologized and promised to refund all race entries. I still don’t understand why it took them so long to follow up, especially considering they must have known the day before, as nobody had marked the course. Furthermore, putting on this type of event is not exactly a one-person operation.
It would be easy to be angry, but I choose to be thankful: that I have my health and could be there to run that day.
Julia Blanton is a nutrition, fitness and wellness coach. An avid runner, she works at Club One in Scotts Valley and keeps a health blog at www.juliablanton.com.