It was going to be a sub-3 hour effort. I was hoping to break 3 for the first time ever. The course was a massive downhill and it seemed like an opportunity not to be missed. So I paid the exorbitant fee for a Revel race, famed for their PR and BQ friendly courses. But COVID had other ideas.
The race was cancelled a few weeks ago and I got (mostly) refunded the AirBNB and rental car fees I had pre-booked. But that still left 26.2 miles of unfinished travel.
And so, just as I’ve done the previous few weekends, I rose early on a Saturday and went out alone into the darkness, running my silly little self-isolating marathon. Sometimes I think I’m just trying to outrun the depression that this whole situation causes — it comes in waves and some days it just all feels so very, very overwhelming. This morning was one of those days where I was lying in bed, unable to sleep and yet unable to rise… until my alarm went off for the start of my remote edition Revel Mt Charleston race.
I started earlier than usual, and the temperatures were a little less than mercury busting.
And I maintained a pretty good clip throughout the loop-de-loops.
Mom manned the aid station for me during the 3rd turnaround which was a nice boost.
My clock time for Covid Marathon III was better than it’s been, but nowhere near my PR or my aspirational goal of a sub-3 race.
Not that it would count in the eyes of the overarching marathoning overlords. They have rules about number of starters and finishers, ability for people to register, advertisement of the even for at least one month prior to its running, etc.
But I find myself constantly thinking of a scene in TAXI, the classic sitcom starring, amongst others, Judd Hirsch and Danny DeVito. During a competition to see who’s the better hack (it’s season 2, episode 8, written by Glenn Gordon Caron), Hirsch and DeVito spend the night running fares all over town… and DeVito hustles his fares, taking them long ways round, shoving them in and out of the cab as fast as possible. Hirsch meanwhile gets a fare to Atlantic City or some such that’s a single fare. So while DeVito scores more fares and declares himself the winner… until somebody notices Hirsch counting a wad of cash. Turns out his working joe, nice-guy cabbie ways netted him quite a tidy sum in tips. Do tips count? When the crew decides to ask Andy Kaufmann’s Latka. His answer? “Of course tips count.”
And so while others may question if my solo races count, let me just say, “Of course CoronaVirus races count.”
Even so, with endorphins coursing through my body and defiance at being told my race doesn’t count to others, I still find myself awash in social, psychological, and emotional isolation. This is definitely a crazy time not just for me but for friends, family, strangers, institutions, society as a whole, and oh so many more.
So do yourself a favor — watch that episode of Taxi above. It’s great.
As for me, I have to prep for next week’s “remote” race… which is a real heartbreaker. I was scheduled to visit Ukraine and run there… as well as take a day trip to Chernobyl. Ironically, as I was cancelling my trip there, the tour operators told me the CoronaVirus couldn’t live in Chernobyl so really it was the safest place to be.
Everything’s relative I suppose. We just have to look at it from a different point of view.
