I briefly studied the map and took note of the small hills along the course. I woke up early and made my way to the shuttle buses for the short ride to the start line. I walked around in a daze and spent time around the corral of port-a-potties. I caught sight of a few people I recognized and said hello. I wandered about until the race director shouted out the start time countdown. I stuffed my sweats in the sturdy green re-useable goodie bag, double knotted and tossed it on top of everyone else's sweat bag, and ran a couple laps around the block before lining up at the start. It wasn't too cold and the sun was making it's way out from the grey clouds. I figured I would warm up four miles in. The gun went off, cheering ensued and the mass of runners started/stopped until we reached the timing pad. Then it was a moderate jog for a half mile until enough runners spaced out and we all could run at our own pace.
The route was uneventful.
I remember a bunch of tree lined streets, uneven pavement, ranch style homes with early morning risers, coffee in hand, watching us run by their front porches. Then we ran through Amazon park where more spectators cheered and whistled us on. We reached the Autzen footbridge and crossed Willamette River. With three miles to go, I ran out of energy. I was hoping I would hit the psychological wall and run on adrenaline but that didn't happen. I ended up walking/jogging along the Willamette River bike path wondering how far the finish line was and if I'll ever get there. By the time I reached mile 12, I had just enough energy to drag myself to the finish chutes. I couldn't pass the woman in front of me.
I heard the announcer call my name and hometown as I crossed the timing pad. Then I looked up at the clock. 1:50:26
The post race food was unusual.
They passed out the standard bottled water, bananas, bagels, and cliff shot samples. Then there were the assortment of artificially flavored dorito chips, stale looking Subway sandwiches, chocolate brownies, cherry pie slices, Nestle Nesquik chocolate milk, and other foods that a runner finishing a race shouldn't be eating. I wasn't surprised that so many people were stocking up on all the free goods as though there was some food shortage that out of towners didn't know about. I didn't take any of it.
The sweat bag pickup was ridiculous.
I've experienced enough races to know how sweat bag pickups work. I'm sure all my fellow runners standing in the long line that looped through the finish area knew how sweat bag pickups work. Apparently, the volunteers didn't. Our bags were piled in a semi-disorderly fashion under one small tent next to the truck that delivered the bags from the start to the finish. I stood in line and watched the hunched over volunteers, glancing at each and every bag tag until the one they were looking for was found and tossed to that runner before starting all over again. This took forever. We were at a standstill and the line didn't move more than five steps every five minutes until I realized that people were cutting in line. When I got within ten feet of the tent, chaos ensued. Everyone was taking off their bibs and waving them above their heads to catch the attention of one volunteer who can find their bag. I managed to catch the eye of one such volunteer after I elbowed my way to the front and this is when I realized that these volunteers were just as overwhelmed as I was. "what does your bag look like?" she asked. I must have looked confused because she asked me again. "It's green." I said. She rolled her eyes and wanted to know if my bag was tied, had a rubber band on it, half full, full, empty. Was this a joke? My bag looked like every other bag here. "I double knotted it and it's full. Eh, three quarters full with two sweats in it." I figured if I was more specific, it would help. After 20 seconds of searching, she found my bag with the matching bib number and I was out of there. Sort of.
Where was the shuttle bus?
This irks me to no end. The parking lot is huge at Autzen Stadium. The only information I got from my race packet was that the return shuttle bus would be at the same location as the morning pick up. Unfortunately, I was at a different morning pick up location from this one. I roamed through all the tents and asked various people where the shuttle bus would be. No one knew. Not the runners, not the volunteers, not the workers at the food tents, no one. I had to trek from one end of the parking lot and circle the edge until I spotted a shuttle bus slowly pull away from a 8"x11" neon green SHUTTLE PICK UP sign haphazardly taped on a pole a quarter mile from where I stood.
Four and a half hours after I woke up that morning, I was back at my friend's place for a shower and soon after, a short hike to Skinner's Butte and a trek through town in search of food.
