Dear family, friends, readers and confidants:
At long last we meet again. I hope you'll oblige me while I spin a little yarn your way.
Maybe based on my penultimate post, I shouldn’t go around quoting The Battle Hymn of the Republic, but when running through wine country it just seems appropriate. Now some of you may know, because I’m a glory hog, and enjoy tooting the horn of my own accomplishment and self-promotion, that I recently ran a half marathon. Then again, if you didn’t previously know, the astute reader could have probably ascertained the fact from today’s title, but I digress.
I recently posted about my disdain for, even hatred of running. When I say this I mean, of course, that I hate performing the actual act of running.[1] But, as I mentioned earlier, full of hubris, self-importance and barley juice I said (after not running for a year and a half) that I would run a half marathon. As such, I did not want to be shown a liar. So, in order to prepare myself, for a good three weeks, I ran five times per week. Full of confidence I would be prepared I elected to take ten days off from running to entertain my brother on his visit (more on that at a later date).
Now, getting to Berehove, the site of the half marathon, was not the easiest thing in the world. If you’ve read the last post, you’ll know what I mean. By the way, whoever said it’s not the destination, it’s the journey has never dealt with Ukrainian trains and train stations. Regardless, we made it to Berehove hardly all that much worse for the wear. Arriving in Berehove we got off a bus in the middle of town. From there the goal was to find our guest house. This seemingly easy task was made more time consuming by streets with Hungarian as well as Ukrainian names, and the fact that we had no idea where the street was. After a half hour or so we found the place and put our bags down.
If you’re up for a geography lesson, Beregove is in the far west of Ukraine Ukraine
We arrived on a Friday. Exploring the town was as fun as exploring any new town is (I’m not being facetious, I mean that). There was a nice downtown area with a park, a number of outdoor cafes, and a variety of other shops and general places of commerce. There were also a lot of people out and about which is always nice to see. Friday was the day to check in, pick up the race number and the official race t-shirt, as well. After checking in and a bit of exploring, I sat down for a combination of lunch and wine. The lunch was terrific: shashlyk, fried potatoes, salad, and a delicious Hungarian soup (I’m not sure if it was goulash, it might have been). The wine was tasty. I elected for the white wine. I didn’t want anything too heavy.
Lunch led to more wandering, and catching up with other volunteers. Following this lunch we were given a small tour of the town. The tour went up the main street we were in and gave us a bit of context for the town; the religious history, the political history, the ethnic history, all that good stuff. I could recount this all for you, but I don’t remember, so I hope you’ll forgive my ignorance. After the tour we had our opening ceremonies. There were a number of speeches. There was dancing by a number of girls wearing skimpy costumes. There were boys break dancing. It was a party!
I think this will be next year's official event poster
My fresh new t-shirt was pretty popular on Friday. I’ve posted some pictures, but it says: “Running Sucks.” This combination of the t-shirt, my build, and the fact that I was freely imbibing on the local fruits of the local viniculture proved misleading. The festival attendees were, for the most part surprised to learn I planned to run the half marathon. Why not, right? Not only was I planning on running, I was planning on finishing without stopping.
Luckily, I called an early night on Friday. Staying in a guest house with a lot of people helps keep me on my best behavior. This Friday night was no different. So, after performing an adequate degustation, I made my way back to get a full night’s sleep. Up early, and after a power breakfast of beef jerky (thanks Matt!) I was ready to party. And by party, I mean run a half marathon . . . slowly.
The official starting chute
Starting the run was a bit exciting. I had never run that far before. I had no doubt I would finish, but I didn’t know how much of the race I would be crawling for. Fortunately, a Peace Corps Medical Officer had warned me about the course. The first quarter or so of the course was uphill. Not very steep, but substantial enough. The hills didn’t end there, but it was nice to have an idea of what was coming my way. There were a good amount of runners all starting together. Combined with the half marathon there was a 10K, a 5K and a 4 person team challenge for the half marathon. As soon as we heard the starting signal I started my half marathon strategy: running.
An example of the course's scenery
Sub-Carpathian wine country
We ran through town, and through some agricultural areas. We ran past some villages as well. It was, as I’ve written earlier, a nice area. Another great thing we had on the course were a few hydration stations they were at kilometers 5, 10 (the turnaround point) and 15 (the place as 5). While some of the PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) ran in the events, some volunteered on the course. They did a great job. They held up signs. They gave us water. They cheered us on. One even threw some cold water at my back as I cruised on through kilometer 15 (the ¾ mark). I’m glad she didn’t ask first, I would have said no, but it was refreshing. The only complaint I have about these volunteers is that they thought I was joking when I asked them to call me a cab. It would have been a much more expedient way to get to the finish. Though, I imagine that would take any sense of accomplishment out of the mix.
If you're not going to finish first, finish memorably: The start of an attempted cartwheel
Attempted cartwheel continued
This is as close as I came to completing the carwheel. No picture of me on my back exists, but if there was one it would follow.
I have a long held belief. It is as follows: if you can’t be first, be memorable. To help fulfill this belief I thought long and hard about how I would cross the finish line. There was, in spite of everything, no question that I would cross the finish line. I’m a Meegan, and as such, I don’t do things halfway.[1] The finish came down to four options: a somersault, a barrel roll, a mid-air freeze frame (this would require a photographer to catch the moment, otherwise it would just look like a jump) or a cartwheel. I decided on the cartwheel. It seemed the only viable option. I didn’t know if I could cleanly perform a somersault after the
[1] Unless halfway is the only option, like a half marathon. Hell, half is in the title of the event, don’t call me out on this.
I finished and I had a certificate, wine glass and have a medal to prove it.
We spent the rest of the day under the green tents next to this building. This time was full of good food, good wine, cold beer and music. Sounds like a good day in any part of the globe.
The rest of the day was low key. I was given a medal, and a wine glass. I quickly put the wine glass to use. Sampling the local viniculture for a second day was in no ways disappointing. I had a bit more shashlyk, and some salad as well. We spent what feels like hours under a group of tents. Almost everyone there was American. Some of our friends even serenaded us with some live music; a combination of guitar, banjo and violin. I was even interviewed at some point herein. From a combination of my dehydration, rehydration and general tiredness I cannot remember how the interview went, or even what language it was in. I imagine it had to have been English, but I should try to find it.
A large group went out to a disco this night. Again I elected to close shop a little early. I have no problems with a group of Americans dominating a disco, bar or club in Lviv, or Kyiv, or any of the big cities, but I had my doubts that such a small town could handle that many Americans. Thankfully, it could. There were no problems or run-ins with locals, or the law, and that’s always a positive.
Sunday was a bit sore. Luckily there wasn’t much to do. There was a lot of waiting around and reading the park. I had coffee at a number of cafes in town, and even had a smoothie. It was tasty. On flat ground I was alright, but anytime stairs were involved I thought my legs were going to fall off. But, all in all, it was rather doable. I didn’t die. I have parlayed that success into an attempt to run the Kyiv Marathon in September. We’ll see how that goes. I’m two weeks into training now. I’m actually going to train this time, too! Also, in case you’re interested I found a YouTube video that was made for this year’s marathon. Here is the link: http://wn.com/Beregsz%C3%A1sz_Maraton_2011
That’s all I know for now.
That’s all I know for now.
Be good,
Pete
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