Lowenbrau half-marathon

On Sunday, something like 20 volunteers and I ran in the 15th annual Maratón Hispaniola in Santo Domingo.  I had “trained” for about 4 weeks, which mainly consisted of running every evening that it wasn´t raining, for as long as it wasn´t raining.  We´re in the rainy season…  and are on the tail end of a hurricane, I think. 
We picked up our microchips and running shirts in the morning, and spent most of the day in the Peace Corps office using the internet. I think I ate like 4 bananas. Then, we crammed 11 of us into a taxi minivan, and headed to the Mirador del Sur park. The place was packed with lycra stretched over muscle, and hardcore runners jumping and stretching and peeing on the sides of the port-a-potties, wondering why so many people were waiting in line to use them. 

Natasha and Mas were there as athletic supporters, cellphone holders, and rum consumers (gotta do something between the start and finish, right?).

It started to downpour half an hour before the race, and the temperature went down by about 10 degrees.  When the race started, it was drizzling, and steamy-humid, but rather cool (keep in mind that 75 degrees warrants a jacket here.)

Sabrina and I ran together for about 17km without stopping.  We passed the time commenting on other runners, and yelling like idiots when we saw someone we knew. The first 8km or so were through the wealthy neighborhoods, the kinds of places we had never seen on the island before, where the windows don´t have bars, and the lawns aren´t mowed by machete. 

The rest of the race was up and down the Mirador del Sur (something like the “southern view” or “watcher of the south”), a nice stretch of road with parks and trees and a view of the ocean beyond the city.  This was also the most painful stretch of the race, because the road was only slightly curvy, boring, and you could see all the people way ahead of you running the opposite direction on the other side of the street.  I think I was at km12 when I saw the first person pass me on the other side.

I started to powerwalk around km18, and Sabrina kept on.  I met a Dominican runner, and we ran/walked the next km or so, chatting about where we were from, and what we studied in school. The boredom went away, and I got a burst of delirious energy, and started to run ahead.  By km20, I cranked up my iPod, started yelling incoherent fragments of choruses, and drenched myself with the fundas of agua they handed out on the side of the road. 

I could see the finish line, and fireworks started going off overhead. FIREWORKS, I´m not joking. Bright lights, throngs of people yelling and clapping, huge banners, a sky filled with fireworks, little kids high-fiving me, confetti, and then the finish line with a huge LED clock reading 02:18:23.  It was all a blur.
Immediately, someone shoved a Löwenbraü in my hand, put a medal around my neck, gave me a bag of treats, and clipped off the microchip tied to my right shoe.

At some point, I should note that Löwenbraü is a German malt beverage that may or may not contain alcohol.  So, not only was I an American running in a Dominican race sponsored by a German company, but I also pounded a malt immediately after running 13 miles.  It was cold, sort of bubbly, and everyone else was doing it…  I threw it up as soon as we got back to the Pension.  buuuuuuh

Mas and Natasha congratulated us as we finished, and gave us Snickers bars.  By this time, they had made a nice dent in the rum. 

The more people back home that I talked to before the race, the less confident I felt about running.  The day before, I was ready to drop out.  I really wanted to run it, just to try at something and possibly fail.  I would have even been liberated in failure.

The only thing that really pushed me on (besides my mom) was my host family and the people at my CTC, who know me as the crazy gringo who always runs in the rain. “Pero Adán, corres muuucho!” They were making plans with what I was going to do with the $$ when I came in 1st (included was a surprise wedding when my “novia” comes to visit).  When I showed them the medal this morning, they immediately started yelling and dancing, because they thought I came in 15th (the medal has a big 15 for 15th annual.)