Monkey Games ~ A Survivor's Tale

It has been seven days. There's still remnants of the battle scars. My body hasn't hurt this bad since last year, which hadn't hurt as bad since the year before, and prior to that it had never hurt that bad. But yet I keep coming back for more. There are 7,200 plus feet of elevation change. 10 hills and some 3 mountains. Two of these, one at mile 5, the other at mile 10, are hard but very doable. I ran/walked up these two without much consequence. The mother of all came at mile 19. I think I crawled. There was no running, there was no walking. I have no memory of this. For my protection, my mind has blocked this out. I'm not sure there is any human alive that after running 19 miles could physically run up this behemoth. Except of course my friend Scott W. I think he ate this one for lunch. Or was it breakfast? He was done way before lunch.

The Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon is held at Percy Warner Park in Nashville, TN. The 10th Annual Monkey Games did not disappoint. It is a small, locally organized event. No one knows how many folks are accepted into the race. It is a tightly kept secret. As is the selection process. You have to enter a lottery, you have to wait for your fate. This year, 324 marathoners finished, most of us bruised and beat up but with bragging rights intact. Reports are that 8 runners did not survive the Monkey Attacks. These reports have not been confirmed.

This was my third monkey kill. Some of my friends have killed all ten. They are my heroes. We all plan our fall racing schedule around the infamous "Monkey". However, no one ever trains for this race, because everyone knows that you can't train for the monkey, for each year is different. Same course, same miles, same hills, but a very different experience.

I'm not going into step by step, turn by turn detail of my day. I'm not going to tell you how my friends Rick, Scott J, Aine, Luc, Alison, Steve, Leigh, Jason, Karen, Tammy, and Charlene provided some much-needed support along the way. I'm just not going into how special a hug from Season at mile 20 was, nor how good it was to see my friends Paul and Kennette. I'm not going to tell you how magnificent "Water Station 23" was, and what a sight it was for me to see my wife's smile and support.  Nor am I going to tell you how an angel caught up with me after stop 23, started some small conversation and brought me home. I'm just not going to tell you. I will tell you, however, Marathon #14 is now in the books.

Next year is the Chinese Year of the Monkey. First one since the marathon started and the next one not for another 12 years.  Will the hills have special treats for us? Will the monkeys multiply and fly high? Will we survive the monkey attacks? One way to find out. We'll see you there, we'll see you at the finish line.

Monkey Business

From the moment you begin to consider a registration for the selection lottery for the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon, a process so tightly lipped that even the organizers can't tell you how it actually works, you begin to hear that this is probably the worst decision you will ever make in your running career.

And yet many return, year after year. Word on the street is that these folks have been hypnotized and their souls taken over by overprotective Flying Monkeys. Although this claim cannot be corroborated because as the story goes, no one has actually seen a real live Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey. It is said that the runners keep returning to look for vengeance. Or so they think.

But do these Monkeys really exist or is this simply a myth? Ask any one of the 300+ runners that venture into these sacred grounds each year and they'll tell you that they believe, otherwise why would they return once and again?

My first encounter with "the Monkey", as we lovingly refer to it around this neck of the woods, was last year. It happened two short weeks after running the New York City Marathon. I was in great running shape, but my legs were tired. From what I remember, It was a very cold and miserable November morning. The temperature at the start was a mere 17f and it appeared to be dropping. My time, not that it mattered, was just shy of forever.

During the weeks leading up to race day, we would receive very motivating emails from race director Trent (I will not use his real name to protect his identity), a person which by the way, we have learned to hate. These emails would leave the door open for anyone that wanted to pull out to do so. Not sure anyone did. Cannot imagine anyone, for any reason other than injury, taking the easy way out. These emails would also remind us in no uncertain terms that "Running Is Stupid". Well, not in any uncertain terms, he would actually come out and tell us this.

Oh yeah, we were indoctrinated with the idea that you in fact, cannot train for the Monkey. We would soon find out the truth in this statement.

The course boasts an elevation change of some 7,200 ft. Give or take a hundred or two. From experience, I would tell you that you could probably give instead of taking a hundred or two. Also from experience, I can positively tell you that there are no "flats" on this course, to speak of. Okay, maybe just one. Started at mile 16.001 and it went through to mile 16.010. At one point in the race I remember, but its somewhat blurry, hearing voices from what it appeared to be coming from up above. I looked there and some 3 to 4 stories high there were runners. I also remember thinking that somehow I had to get there. From here.

All week leading to the race this year, the weather forecast was not favorable. Not favorable I say if you think that rain and thunderstorms would put a damper on the run. But as luck would have it, it rained sporadically and when it did, it was not a big deal. We did get wet, but this just added to the story line of the day.

Photo Credit: Keith Steiner

I have to confess that if you look around at the race participants, you compare their experience and abilities to mine, you would scratch your head and wonder what in the world I'm doing there. After two completed Monkeys I still ask myself that question.

Perhaps is the fact that this race is run for the sake of running. No Age Groups, no records that mean anything, no qualifying for anything, nothing. You run because you love to run. You run because it's really and truly a personal challenge. You run because you get a cool tech tee shirt with a "monkey" on the sleeve for each "monkey" you have finished, you get a pretty cool medal and a finishers beverage cup. Oh yeah, you also get bragging rights; you entered, you ran, you survived and you finished the "Monkey". You lived to write about it.

Photo Credit: Elly Foster

My day went just as expected. It hurt. It hurt bad. Not most of the time... all of the time. There were no walls to hit, because the entire race was a huge wall. But as luck would have it, every time I saw a photographer, I managed to squeeze a smile. Miles 0-16 went without much consequence. Around mile 17 I kept thinking of my friends at the aid / water stop on mile 23. This kept me going. Knowing that they would be there waiting for me, (because everyone else from our group had already gone by) was a huge motivator. My wife Monica and daughter Juliana would be there as well. I couldn't let them see me hurting. So, I kept going.

Monica and my friend Skip were waiting for me about .5 mile before the station. Their presence was a God sent. It was awesome to see them there. Plus, it meant I was that close to mm 23, just 3.2 short miles to go. And just as expected the music, the yelling, screaming, hooting and hollering from the Hendersonville Running Club water stop was phenomenal. Juliana's high-five sent me over the top. I drank a flat cola. That's all I wanted.

Photo Credit: Keith Steiner

And I was on my way. To the finish line. 3.2 miles to go. That's all. 3.2 miles to go. Dang, they were long. They were tough and they hurt. But when it was all said and done, I entered the finishing area and all my friends were waiting. I wanted to walk because honestly I couldn't run any longer, but I didn't. I couldn't let them see me hurting.

I returned to normal walking about three days and three toe nails later. The pain and anguish of those hills are now a faded memory. So what about next year? Well, provided that I make it through the top secret selection committee, I will be back. For a third go at it. Hills? What Hills? Pain? What Pain? Train? You can't. Why? Because Running IS Stupid.

Not Your Average Long Training Run

As I set out on Saturday to do my weekly long run, I planned on 16 miles.  I planned on running a hilly, very hilly route for I am training for the ING NYC Marathon on November 3, 2013, with an estimated 885 ft of elevation and The Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon on November 24, 2013, with an estimated elevation gain of 3600 ft.

ING NYC Marathon, November 3, 2013

Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon, November 24, 2013

The route I have chosen for this run has a total elevation gain of 1054 ft.  Not a tremendous amount of elevation for the total run, but half of the elevation comes in a two mile stretch of the course, about half way through the run.

I set out with three goals.  1) NOT to walk up any hill. Accomplished. 2) To stick to a 5 minute run, 1 minute walk for the entire run.  When the five minutes were up, and I was going up hill, I finished the hill and adjusted accordingly.  Goal No. 1 was a priority today, and 3) To average a pace of under 12:30.  Actual pace was 12:20/mile. I've never claimed to be fast!

The run started without consequence. I left the park where we meet with our running club each and every Saturday morning.  We have talent of all levels, so everyone pretty much matches up according to pace and distance planned.

This morning I teamed up with my friends Tabitha, K'Leetha, Jennifer and Janelle, but this didn't last long for we went our own separte routes.  As it turns out Tabitha and Jennifer were running part of the route I was running.  I asked Tabitha if she would do the out and back with me (the one with the monster hills) and she quickly said... NO!.

Somewhere around mile 4, I picked up a bottle of water that K'Leetha had left there for us.  I drank about half of it and planned on dropping the remainder where I could have it after the out and back portion of the route.

I approached the stop sign where I would leave my water, and I dropped it at the base of said sign. So off I went. Ran over the hill to the other side and one mile later I turned around.  The return is a tougher rise so it took a little longer. About half way through the return, I began to think about the bottle of water.  I did not want to consume what I had on my fuel belt because I still had a long way to go.

Some three to four houses before getting to the stop sign and my water, a dog began to bark. Loudly and angrily. He came chasing after me with what appeared to be a fierce determination to get a good bite in. Only thought that came to my mind was that he was going to bite me in the back of my leg, my left leg, where my new tattoo is. That could just not happen.

So I stopped abruptly and waited for the dog. When he reached me, the dog immediately got on his back and started kicking his legs; he wanted me to pet him. So relieved I was that his intentions where not what I had thought, that I did pet him. Big mistake.

Off I went, I continued running. He went with me. Side by side.

Then he took off.  Like a bat out of hell. He headed directly to the stop sign. Yes, the same one where my water bottle was on the ground.  He started sniffing around the post and the water bottle. Then I though... "Oh, NO, he's not". And yes, he did. He raised his right leg and proceeded to claim the water bottle as his own.  Dang!

I laughed for a few moments and continued my run. The dog came along with me. For the next 6 miles or so, I had company. I was getting worried that he would not find his way back home. He was wearing a collar, but no tag. I began to think what I was going to do with him if he continued to run with me to the end.

Two cars stopped and asked if the dog was mine. It appears that he had been roaming the streets for about two weeks.  The second car offered to take him home.  Not being my dog, I did not object. I noticed as the car drove away, that the lady had one of those dog rescue stickers on her car. I was happy she took him.

I continued.  5 minutes running, 1 minute walking. My ankles, as usual, were getting a bit upset. Time to suck it up and keep on moving.

Overall it was a great day. All of the goals I had left with, I had accomplished. Yes, the miles were hard and long. The ankles were in pain, but the spirits were high. The distractions today made it a great one!  What will next week's long run bring?