My NYCM Report
Why No One
Should Run More Than 20 Miles
Jane Cates
Now the
not so good. This year brought hot and humid weather, a
breath-taking last minute
sprint for the men’s first place and “The Shoe Incident.”
Things
happen at twenty miles: some runners hit the wall (or not), while I descend
into what has been described best as the “extreme bite me
zone.” I had made a good
start, had a strong first half, a trip over the
as we have been led to
expect) and a cruise up
I’m
running along, unaware that my brain is as fried as my body is tired, when a
gentleman coming from
behind steps on the back of my sneaker. My heel comes out
past the point where I
can just jam it back into the shoe. He is very solicitous.
“Are you
okay?”
“Well, my
shoe has come off.”
“But are
you okay?”
“My shoe
is off, isn’t it!”
“Yes, but
are you okay?”
“Well,
I’ll have to do something about my shoe, won’t I?”
At this
point, he realized that “okay” wasn’t going to be in my vocabulary
and took off.
So there
I was, in the middle of the
my shoe. A few steps led
me to the conclusion that running the next six miles
with my shoe half off was
not going to work.
I make my living finding
the optimal solution to complex problems, but what is the
optimal solution, here? I
thought about kicking the shoe off. Now running six miles
in a shoe and sock is a
possible solution, maybe even a satisfying solution, but
did not seem to me, to be
the optimal solution. So I stood in the middle of the
in the middle of the
road, looking at my shoe.
Then I had the following thought: “What you
need to do, is to take the shoe off,
untie the knot, put the
shoe back on and retie it.” I felt much better having
worked out a strategy. So
I went to the side of the road, pulled the shoe off,
pondered the knot, got it
undone, opened the shoe, dropped it to the ground and
slipped my foot in. So
far the plan was working very smoothly.
It was too good to last. The next step of
the plan was to retie the shoe.
As I attempted to lean
over I realized every muscle in my legs and back had
tightened up. There was
no way I could bend over and retie the shoe. So there I was,
in the middle of the
Inspiration came in the form of a fire
hydrant about half a block away.
I went to the hydrant,
put my foot up and retied the shoe.
You would think that this success would have
carried me the next six miles in a
cloud of euphoria. Not
so! But I ran them anyway. The autumn colors of
were as lovely as they have
ever been. There was a young lady holding a sign
which said “You’re sooo sexy – I want to have your babies,” which I found
sweet
if somewhat perplexing as
I have always considered my babies to be keepers.
And then there was the finish line. Suddenly
I’m surrounded by people
congratulating me and handing me water and a
space blanket. A man in a poncho with
a red cross asks, “Are
you okay?” I wonder if he's related to my friend in the
And someone hands me a medal. So there I am,
in the middle of
in the middle of the
road, wrapped in tin foil and looking at my finisher’s medal.
And planning next year’s strategy.
Velcro sneakers.