The Brasstown Bald Buster 5K

   In two days, I will be heading up to North Georgia (weather permitting) to run the featured race. Until yesterday at lunch, I was pretty excited about it. Now, I just feel a little sick to my stomach about it. I know, I know, why do this? Aren't all 5K's the same? If you've run one, you've run them all? I know, I know, couldn't you find a better hobby? Couldn't you spend your money more wisely? Couldn't you be satisfied with the races you have already gotten to do this year? Why do you run,? Aren't you just out there running? No, these aren't questions from my wife. Mel is my number one supporter. She never complains. She only demands warmth and a hot beverage, which isn't much considering that spectating ain't for everyone, especially if your person is slow and smelly.

  And no, I can't give you good answers to those questions. I could answer them all well and we could all be satisfied for a time, but then I would have this weird nagging going on inside me that unless you are a runner then you will never understand. I try to explain it sometimes to Mel in crafting or sewing terms and she tries to understand. (I think this would go better if I paid better attention while I was in Michael's or Jo Ann's, or as Mark calls it "Fabric World".) Runners are weird people. Some are weird from the top down and others hide it pretty well. Some will tell you all about their running exploits and others are content to know they have done them. I am not sure where I fit in. I guess in the former, since I am write about it and 7 very faithful followers read about them! (Well, really 5 since Mel is following me twice to show her support for Hines Terrace Herald.)

   There is a certain runner that I like a lot, his name is Ryan Hall. I am not sure why I like him so much. I guess the main reason is his belief that he can be better and that he can be faster. (On a side note, I once ran the same race as he did, a 15K, and when I was on mile 4 of the race, he was on mile 9!) I think this is the same belief that every runner feels or thinks. No, I will never make it to the Olympics and no, Nike will never knock on my front door and beg me to wear their products, but every time I lace up my shoes or don't, I feel like I must run. I must train for the next race. Signing up for a race becomes not something I need to do or want to do, but something I must do in order to have something to push myself out the door and onto the streets or trails. There is this nagging inside my head that tells me that if I just suffer for a couple more minutes now that I can earn several seconds in the next race or make my year-end total of miles grow a little bigger. I know this is silly. I know it is weird. I am not in denial.

  So, why do this race? The answer is simple: to know I can do it. Sometimes, I look through race calendars and see races that would be fun and I still do this. Other times, I look through and question which races could I do or handle. This race is one of those. And we will see. Brasstown Bald is the highest mountain in Georgia. The race goes right to the top from the bottom. I have heard it is gut-wrenching. I have heard it was near impossible. I have heard that I will walk. I have heard I will be passed my military guys wearing backpacks and gear. We will see. I am sure it will be all those things. I just want to make it across the finish line and to know that I can do it and that I did do it.
  
   David