Last week I threatened to write another blog, and unlike my
threats to discipline my daughter, I’m actually going to follow through on this
one. This week, I wanted to write
about my most recent half marathon, which took place in Costa Rica about a
month ago. In professional
running, you can sometimes find a competition that turns into something more
than a race. It becomes one of
your life highlights – something you’ll eventually tell your kids about some
day. These experiences are
extremely important for runners that don’t make Olympic teams because without
them, your running tale is pretty much: “I ran a lot when I was younger, was
really skinny, and ignored personal hygiene occasionally.” These highlights come in many
forms. They can either be a PR, a
victory, or some other set of unforgettable circumstances. Everyone who runs knows what I’m
talking about because everyone has had at least one of these experiences. It’s why we keep running.
This past month, I took part in one of those lifetime highlight
races. The event was the Reto
Powerade Half Marathon, and it took place in the capital of Costa Rica. I was initially approached to run this
race because a friend, Jeff Egglestein, was invited but instead chose to run
some race in Russia (World Marathon Champs). His gain turned out to be mine as well since I jumped
immediately at the chance to race down south. My wife then threatened to leave me if I didn’t take her
along so the table was set for a nice Burrell outing to Costa Rica.
I knew this race was different when I arrived at a pre-race
press conference and was swarmed by folks in the media wanting an
interview. You could tell
immediately that the public was interested in the elite race. Now I’ve run in some huge races in the
States with outstanding elite fields.
Races with long histories and importance in the communities that hold
them. Races with substantial buzz
surrounding the event. This was
different. The headline story of
the Reto Powerade was on the potential winners of the race, whereas the
headlines of U.S. races are centered on the event itself – the competitive race
is a nice side story, but most participants and spectators aren’t really
interested in who wins. I’m not
saying one is better than the other, but as a professional runner, the
“cheeseball” in me enjoyed being the story of the race. It was a ton of fun to live in the
shoes of what I imagine a soccer or basketball player lives. Where people don’t just enjoy you being
out there. They want you to win.
My initial impressions were confirmed during the race. Throughout the 13.1 miles, I was
accompanied by cars, bikes, motorcycles, and a helicopter all with cameras
filming each step. It was pretty
amazing. The downside was of
course was being constantly filmed while having Tourrette Syndrome (a disorder
I have that is characterized by involuntary facial tics). When you have Tourettes, you eventually
make some really strange looking faces and all of my great expressions were
captured by Costa Rican media. I
ended up winning the race in a modest time (which I’m not going to divulge),
and spent the next hour taking pictures with other finishers of the race. Again, I can’t describe how fun it was
to be treated like an actual athlete.
After the race, my wife and I spent another week in the
country with the elite coordinator and took pictures like this.
It was definitely enough to keep me motivated to run for at
least another year or so. And for
any Costa Rican runners that are reading this: You guys are simply the
best. I can’t wait to get back
down there and run with you again.
Puravida.
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