Meghan's Blog

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February 27, 2007

Stage 6: Endings and Beginnings

Route: Playa Junquillal to Bahia Salinas
Estimated Distance: 19k

Stage 6, the final stage, was scheduled to start at the leisurely hour of 9am. Race officials told us that the late start aligned with a low tide, which was necessary to navigate a portion of today's route. Joyfully, this meant we could wake up whenever we wanted, without an alarm. I woke up somewhere in the moments around dawn, sat up, and looked out at a nearly mirror-calm Pacific Ocean.

For the past 5 days, my first thoughts each morning had focused on the race and how my body was feeling. Looking back at this morning, I can only recall feeling the strong senses of stillness and peace. Even though the race wasn't over, I felt secure in my position as the third woman, unless something entirely accidental and out-of-my control occurred. Even though we still had a distance to run, I felt my body would carry me to the finish without difficulty. This morning's calm perspective was refreshing and welcomed.

Shortly after I awoke, a few people were studying something on the beach nearby my tent. I climbed out of the tent to see what they were fussing about. There were 3 baby turtles, not more than 3 inches long each, making their way down the beach to the ocean! (Sea turtle nests are typically burried well above the high-tide line and several feet deep in sand on the beach. When the baby turtles hatch, they climb a few vertical feet through sand to the beach's surface, then they crawl to the ocean. Each sea turtle nest contains hundreds of fertilized and incubating eggs. From this very large batch, typically only a few turtles will survive to adulthood.)

The turtles' progression to the ocean was painfully slow and obviously arduous. One baby seemed to go out of its way to climb a small sand hill. It struggled and writhed and eventually summitted the hill, but then it layed motionless in exhaustion for a minute or so before continuing on. Another turtle reached the water, was carried away by a wave, was washed high ashore by another wave, layed on the beach resting, scurried to the water again, and was washed away a second and final time. I felt honored to witness all 3 of them reach the water and float off into the ocean. For me, this day was a very big ending; for them, it was a huge beginning.

The stage start was wild and crazy. Well, as wild and crazy as you can get when you put a lot of very tired but excited people together! A race official said "Go!", and we took off down the beach with some great whooping and cheering. For a kilometer, we ran down the beach. Then we headed back into the hills, away from the ocean.

Today's route remains quite vague in my mind. Instead, I can vividly recall certain moments from the stage. Here and there throughout the week, I'd run a bit with a nice guy from India. He and I chatted our way through a kilometer or so today. I'd also spent some on-course time with a jovial Irish fellow who always managed to say something funny. We, too, ran and laughed a bit together during this stage. I recall a most beautiful section of "coasteering" and beach running. The "coasteering" involved navigating a long, black, slippery, barnacle and algae-covered section of rocks exposed from the ocean at low tide. I remember a short stretch of dirt road that was perfectly shaded and lined on both sides with a wild array of blooming bougainvillea. I ran perhaps 8 or 9k with Oscar on a hot, dusty, hilly dirt road. Today he was dousing both of us with water from a bottle as we ran.

Here's what I recall of the finish: After the bougainvillea-lined dirt road, the route wound through a few little farms, and then through a tiny village. Over the tree tops to the left, I saw the peak of a large thatched roof, and I knew it must be part of the resort where the finish line was. The route turned down a path that ended at the ocean. From there, the route twisted past a tall spire of rock jutting out into the ocean and then onto the manicured green grass of the resort property. From there, it was a straight line to the finish. The finish was ambitiously decorated; there was upbeat music playing; the crowd at the finish line cheered heartily. I recall a stiff wind blowing white caps on the ocean. I recall that the color of the sky and the ocean matched perfectly. I recall the flags of all the nations represented by runners waving in the wind. I recall my sweetie, who had finished before me, flashing me a big smile. I recall "breaking" my own tape at the line.

Then, there I was, just standing there at the finish line. I had no idea what to do next. Anyone know the song, "I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself " (most recently covered by the White Stripes)? In those moments, I had no idea what to do with myself. Even though the race had gone on for days, it felt like it had ended so quickly. Finally, my sweetie walked me away from the finish line and to our hotel room at the resort.

A short time later, I stood in a real shower (none of that burlap-doored crap), and felt warm water (none of that tepid stuff) pour over my insanely dirty body. In those moments, emotions began being to flow once again. First, I felt relief. Then, elation. And, finally, pride. The Coastal Challenge was complete and I placed third! I had executed my race strategy perfectly and I had met my goal. I was experiencing my very own story book-like happy ending.

We didn't do much that afternoon. We ate (Surprise, surprise. At this point, if I never saw food again, I would be very happy. My appetite fortuitously returned in full force the next day, however.). We soaked our weary legs and feet in the resort's pool. We chatted with all the other racers and race officials. We stared at the Pacific Ocean. We gazed at the mountains across the bay, which we were told were Nicaraguan mountains. More than once, we commented, "I don't feel that bad. I could run again tomorrow."

In the evening, there was a final dinner, slide show, and awards ceremony of sorts. It was awesome to see that the Costa Rican contingency had dominated the podium slots; Costa Ricans were first and third in the men's race and second in the women's race. Beverly Anderson-Abbs put on an awesome display of female finery out on the course; every single day that woman was on fire. My sweetie finished just off the podium for the men, but, damn, he put up a helluva fight!

It seemed this was supposed to be a night of conclusion and finality. The race itself was over. The window of life that contains the training for and racing of this race was closing. New friends were parting ways. I was restless with these thoughts, however. Indeed, by the end of the day, I was ready for this specific race to end. Beyond this race, I instead felt rather transitional.

At this moment in my life, my universe continues to expand. That is, with reference to running, the realm of that which interests me and that which I am able to do (and do well) grows in direct proportion to the new things that I try. In the same way that this morning's baby seas turtles completed one journey and began another as they floated into the wild Pacific, finishing The Coastal Challenge today to me equated with the beginning of the next life experience.

Posted by Meghan at February 27, 2007 8:50 PM

Comments

Posted by: corrado giambalvo at February 28, 2007 4:47 AM

Posted by: backofpack at February 28, 2007 9:47 AM

Posted by: olga at February 28, 2007 10:02 AM

Posted by: tom riley at February 28, 2007 10:53 AM

Posted by: Eric Barnes at February 28, 2007 6:25 PM

Posted by: Jenny at February 28, 2007 7:24 PM

Posted by: brent at March 5, 2007 8:11 AM

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