I feel the need for speed!

This past sunday was the Need for Speed Relay from Bear Mountain to New Rochelle. Once again our team was comprised of current and former JackRabbit employees. And once again we donned the name Spearheaders, which was inspired by our friend and former store manager Chris Bergland. Last year we took second place in the corporate co-ed category and we were looking to improve and win our division. All forecasts called for temperatures in the mid-90s, which wasn't too appealing for a race environment. As much as I love to run and cycle in the heat, I hate racing in the heat.

We left the city a little later than planned, but the trip up to Bear Mountain didn't take very long, so we were still at the start long before the start of our wave at 8:45. Immediately upon arrival, I saw two of our pacers from work, Bev (who beat me just days before in the race) and Kevin. Their team was returning to defend their win the previous year.

We took a team picture in front of the starting line and then bid Jim a farewell as we were sent driving to the exchange for leg 2. We were expecting Jim to blaze through his leg despite the heat. Jim came through a little later than expected and when we jokingly asked him if he walked, he confirmed that he had indeed walked at the mid-way point. He said the heat was intense and got to him for a brief period. We got him some water and then went back to the van to drive to the next exchange.

Jené, who has been battling various injuries for what seems like forever, ran leg two. The leg was on trails and was fairly hilly. Last year the leg was longer and it was infamous for losing runners on the trail. When we arrived, there was already news of runners lost on the trail. All we could hope for is that Jené dug deep to use her primal instincts to follow the scent of the runners on the right path. While other teams were sending out search parties for their missing runners, Jené cruised through the exchange and handed off to Russ.

Leaving the exchange area, sweaty, exhausted runners were tortured as they had to walk by a large, empty, refreshing pool behind a chain link fence where a few lifeguards were attempting tricks off the diving board.

Russ, the ironman, blazed through his leg like he was lazily watching TV. I'm fairly sure the blisters on his feet were due to the heat generated by his speed and not by the cotton tube socks.

While waiting on Russ, I quickly briefed Megan on the layout of her leg, as it was one of the legs I did the previous year. Russ streaked in, made the hand off and Megan shot up the initial hill of leg 4. We piled into the van, yelled support to Megan as we passed and then continued on to the exchange for leg 5.

At leg 5, we lounged in the shade and waited on Megan to come through knowing that we'd have little time to relax since she was only out for a short 2.9 mile jaunt. Megan handed off to Erik and we hopped back in the van to proceed to the next exchange.

As we were driving, I noticed a van partially pulled off the highway, but blocking the right lane. I noticed Bev behind the van and assumed their team was cheering on their runner or giving their runner support. I thought to myself that it wasn't very safe to be only partially pulled off the highway. We proceeded on to the exchange.

After lounging in the grass for awhile discussing the upcoming Finger Lakes Fifty with Jim, I went over to the exchange area where I saw Bev. She had a strange, almost confused, look on her face when she exclaimed, "You don't even know what just happened." She proceeded to describe helping a collapsed runner and calling 9-1-1. The guy had collapsed on the course was unconscious and was beginning to have seizures. His eyes were rolled back in his head and his lips were blue. They helped him as much as they could before the ambulance arrived. The runner was severely dehydrated and was obviously succumbing to heat stroke.

Erik came through bloody nippled and soaked with sweat. Even on a short run, technical shirts have their usefulness for those with sensitive areas. Christine grabbed the wristband and was off on her leg. We piled into the van and drove to the next exchange area, honking and yelling at Christine as we passed. Just before the exchange, the running route passes through a large cemetery (where Babe Ruth is buried according to Shay), and once again, there was a funeral taking place. I felt bad last year and felt bad this year. I don't know why they can't route the race away from the cemetery.

Christine came through and passed off to Shay who cruised out of the exchange area. A quick drive got us to the next exchange where Rich and I surveyed the area and I informed him of the stairs he had to climb on his initial run out of the exchange area. The rest of the team came up from the van and we all milled about in a soft grassy area waiting on Shay to finish her leg. She came through, handed off, and then we corralled her back into the van to drive to the last exchange knowing that Rich would be blazing through his leg.

As soon as we got to the final exchange, I started readying myself for my leg. I was hoping to run 7 minute miles or better, but I knew it would be challenging in the heat. Not only that, but I had ridden 60 miles on my bike the prior day and raced the 5 miler only a few days before. I felt good and figured I'd give it a shot. I put on my soccer/compression dri-fit socks, skylons, and my racing shorts. After applying a little body glide to prevent chaffing, I went to the exchange area to mentally prepare.


I did a little stretching and such to get ready as I watched for Rich. Soon he came through and handed off the wristband, which I now had to place onto my ankle for the anchor leg. It took me a few seconds to get it in place and take off. I went out blazing the pavement. My body was feeling great. I was hoping to pass a bunch of people and turn in a quick time for the team's final leg. My first mile was sub 7 minutes, and as I cruised downhill, I felt great. Just before I clocked my second mile I saw my first victim slowly running along. I cruised passed her as she bid me a quick "good job." I returned the camaraderie and continued my pace, which I had consciously slowed slightly to conserve some energy. My second mile was right around a 7 minute pace.

After a long downhill, I turned left and went up a short, but very steep hill. Remembering it from the previous year, I shortened my stride, leaned into it, and devoured the hill. I felt my quads a little fatigued as I went up, but it wasn't anything major. As the course continued through neighborhoods, I felt my pace slowing a little as my body started to succumb to the heat and humidity. I realized there was no way I was going to average the pace I wanted, but I was OK with slowing down a little.

I came up on the water station in front of a school and was handed an ice cold glass of water and a very hot gatorade. I quickly drank half the water and then poured the remainder over my head in an effort to cool off a bit. I then opened up the Gatorade and slowly sipped on it as I made my way through the school grounds and into a park, which marked the end of the shaded area of my leg. The rest of the course was along sidewalks on city blocks with little to no shade.

As I continued sipping on the warm sports drink, my stomach began feeling quite upset. I realized there was no one anywhere remotely close to me--in front or behind. The sun was beating down on me and the nausea was worsening. My pace slowed even more. I eventually had to take a quick walking break to keep my stomach from expelling its contents. As I entered the downtown area of my run, I passed restaurant after restaurant, which only exacerbated my stomach condition. I gritted my teeth and continued moving forward.

Eventually, I couldn't repress my stomach any longer and I began to dry heave as I continued my run. Knowing vomiting to be a serious condition, I slowed my pace to what felt like a crawl and used short walking breaks to try and keep fluids in my system. Although the dry heaving continued sporadically, I was able to keep from vomiting. As I looked ahead and behind, I was still seeing no other runners.

With a little over a mile to go, an SUV pulled off ahead and members of another team jumped out and gave me an electrolyte strip and a bottle of water. I thanked them profusely and continued what had become a meager shuffling of my feet. At a point that had to be slightly under a mile to the finish, I noticed another runner ahead of me. My stomach had begun to settle slightly, so I challenged myself to overtake the runner before the finish.

I noticed I was closing in very quickly on the runner. When I arrived next to the girl, she was doubled over and her face was bright red. I inquired if she was OK. She said yes, but her face said otherwise. I reluctantly left her behind, but we were near the finish line, so I figured if she continued walking she would be OK. When I saw the last turn to the finish line, I picked up my pace as much as I could with the remaining energy. My body wanted to walk, but I just kept going. I turned the corner and "sprinted" to the finish line.

As I ran through the finish, I felt my stomach wanting to punish me for the quick finish. I placed my hand over my mouth and was able to keep everything down. Immediately after finishing, my teammates started dumping water over me to try and cool me off. I had no idea how bad I looked until I was informed later. I sat down and drank water as I had water poured over me. After a few minutes I tried to get up but immediately had to sit back down because I felt so light-headed. Eventually the girl that I passed hobbled through the finish and the medics went straight over to attend to her.

As I complained about the heat, humidity, dry heaving, and my slow pace my teammates told me not to worry about it. Jim kept mentioning that he would tell me why it didn't matter. Once I sort of snapped back to reality, I was informed that after another runner collapsed on the course, the race had been canceled. Teams near the finish were allowed to finish if they wanted. Apparently we were only the 13th team to cross the finish line. I knew my blood sugar was low and immediately went looking for something sweet. I initially found an apple and started eating that, but then I found a chocolate chip cookie which I quickly devoured. After getting a little food down, I started feeling normal again and was able to grasp what had transpired. Many of the teams dropped out of the race, not many crossed the finish line, and more than one runner had gone to the hospital.

We waited around on the awards ceremony and found out we won our division (Corporate Co-ed), which was an improvement over our second-place finish the previous year. We also finished 9th overall. Only 22 teams out of 102 completed the entire course. My horribly slow pace on Leg 9 was still the 7th fastest time out of the 22 teams that finished the race, so I felt slightly better about it. We got our medals and our winner's plaque before loading into the van and making our drive back to the city.