Race to the Taps at the Oskar Blues Brewery

Breweries have become popular venues for road races in recent years, and today's 5-mile race at the Oskar Blues Brewery was a good reason why:  good organization, a good band, a food truck serving excellent post-race food, and of course the free beer at the finish line (although some of us joked at the starting line that the $38.00 entry fee - no shirt option - would make this the most expensive beer we every bought.)  This was the third in a series of five-mile races at breweries in the area and it makes me want to run another one.

The Race Director announced at the start of the race that most of it would take place on the Brevard Greenway, a scenic, paved route directly behind the Brewery that connects downtown Brevard to Pisgah National Forest; but he also said that there would be two departures from the Greenway into residential neighborhoods where there would be "short" hills.  So, in the same way veteran runners know what they are likely to expect on what a Race Director describes as a "gently rolling course," we knew we should expect some formidable changes in elevation.  The course profile for races like this can be a little deceptive; the website showed a profile that looked nearly flat, with a few harmless bumps along the way:

It seemed to some of us that a more accurately rendered profile might have looked like this (it's just a matter of perspective, after all, lengthening the Y-axis to a realistic height):

But no matter; I train on hills every day.  And we all have to run the same course (which sounds philosophical, after all).  The course was indeed beautiful, and shortly after the Start we entered the Greenway itself, which was smoothly paved, following a little stream and going around a field of grass and wildflowers.  Then we came out along US-64, and after a short section of sidewalk, dodging cracks and low overhanging branches, we were out on residential streets.  We began to climb up a long, curving, seemingly unending hill that became steeper as we neared the summit.  Accustomed to climbing Big Bearpen, I was gratified to pass several younger runners on the slopes of this first hill.  A sudden descent led the way back to the Greenway, and then off into another neighborhood where the second hill loomed before us, sudden and substantial, slowing all of us almost without exception to a walk.  I walked fast, swinging my arms, and then began running hard again just before the crest of the hill, knowing it was downhill for the last mile and a half.

And that's when the race became truly exhilarating to me.  I had been following a much younger man for a mile or two, a man in a bright blue shirt and shorts, and I had managed to stay close behind, imagining that he was pulling me along with him.  We passed the four mile split and I stayed with him as we retraced our route, returning to the Greenway.  I pulled a little closer, and then I watched him falter a little.  Gathering my resources just 10 feet behind him, I suddenly powered on by decisively, the only way to pass someone in a race.  And then I did not look back.  Ahead of me were two young women, and I passed the first in the same way, and the second one, and I could see the tall towers of the Brewery approaching.  I did not relent, and I crossed the finish line in a surprising finish time 52:12, faster than I would have thought possible considering those two long hills.  I was pleased to find that I had run my final mile in 9:06, my fastest mile and much faster than my interval pace in recent training.  I went over to the man in bright blue, shook his hand, and said I had stayed behind him the whole race and he had really set a good pace.

So this is what makes racing interesting, no matter what the distance.  Not just the competition, the camaraderie and joking along the way, the gorgeous scenery, the suffering together as we climbed those long hills under the shade of big maple trees.  It is that crucial point during the race when suddenly everything comes alive, that point when, reduced to a walk, a runner will start moving fast again.  It is that moment, that spark, that motivation, that desire to start racing again.  When we dig deep and we find that we are stronger than we think we are. 

And of course, there is the finish line, the glorious arch and the digital clock, the final few steps, someone handing you a water bottle, and the sweet feeling of walking again after all of one's strength has been measured out and there is nothing left.  I wandered around a little and Martha came over to congratulate me.  What a wonderful, peaceful, satisfied feeling, to have done your best!