Triumphant Trek

Photo by Sean Dean

There are among us a handful of hearty souls who have run the Sound to Narrows race every year since its 1973 inception. While my own history with the 12K race is nothing close to that of these “Every-Timers,” I have managed to run the race 15 of the last 16 years, setting a personal best of 56:26 back in 1995.

The 2009 edition of the race took place June 13 under weather conditions that were ideal for running: cool and with a hint of mist in the air.

As is my habit, I manage to make it to the Vassault Park starting area with just enough time to collect my race number, strip out of my warm-ups and get stretched out before my wave begins.

As I stretch, I hear the race announcer describe the course for the amusement of the waiting runners: “There’s a hill,” he says, “then there’s another hill and some more uphill and then it finishes going up a hill.”

I am in the starting chute when the air horn blows. I start my stopwatch as I cross blue pads and soon my shoes are pounding the pavement of North Vassault.

The first mile and a half or so is a “gimme” – all downhill (this is known among aficionados of the race as “the North Vassault Dip”).

My spring training had been going well until the arrival of a mystery pain in my left calf a few weeks ago – just in time to disrupt my training schedule at a crucial point. There will be no attempt at heroic feats of athleticism today. My only goal is to keep moving and finish the race without stopping.

Down the hill I go – a mote in the river of humanity that comprises the race. Between the military runs, the 5K, the wheelchair race, four waves of the 12K and a “diaper dash,” the race is open to participants of all shapes, sizes, ages and levels of ability.

After the opening stretch of downhill, the course enters Point Defiance Park. It turns to a brutal climb that has everyone gasping by the time the course mercifully levels out.

There follows the “Aviary Glide,” a respite of downhill that delivers me to the foot of “The Monster,” the long steady incline that leads to the entrance proper of Five-Mile Drive.

By the top of “The Monster” a runner is either in rhythm or is on his way to becoming hamburger meat. My legs are feeling a little sore as I approach the halfway point, but my cardiovascular system seems to be doing fine as I round the bend and find myself on the Narrows side of the Point. I even catch a glimpse of the Narrows Bridge off in the misty distance.

Other runners are constantly all around me - either passing me by or falling away behind as I move on. I catch snippets of conversations between pairs or little groups who are staying together. I am on my own today – running in silence, carefully monitoring my body and marshaling my reserves for the trials ahead.

Shortly after Camp 6, the course exits the park via a short but very steep little hill, before the plunge down into what is called the “Hellish N. Vassault Canyon,” one of the steepest parts of the course.

I find myself feeling pretty well as I rise out of the canyon and run the flat stretch along N. 51st street, where the last water stop waits. I take on liquid as I continue running toward my assault on “The Hill” – that mile-long final climb to the finish line. By this point in the race all I can do is gut it out.

By the middle of the long climb up North Vassault, there is a steep stretch that threatens to break the spirit. By now, however, I’m close enough to the finish that I can put myself on automatic pilot. It seems to take forever to cover the last half-mile. Finally, there is a downhill stretch and the finishing chute leads onto the grass with the finish line up ahead.

A couple behind me tell each other to sprint for the finish and I decide to do the same – lengthening my stride and using the last of my reserves to run the last 50 yards as fast as I can go.

I cross the line and stop my watch. It has taken me almost 68 minutes to make it over the 7 1/2 miles of hills.

I lean down to remove the computer chip that is strapped to my ankle and I turn it over to one of the volunteers.

I am drenched in sweat as I walk out over the expanse of grass and move toward the water table to collect some refreshment.

I keep myself moving so that the lactic acid does not pool up in my leg muscles. As I cool down and feel the soreness in my legs, I have a sense of relief mixed with satisfaction over having completed this epic event for yet another year.

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