I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!

PART I

Wilson has partnered in Saudi Arabia with a company named the Shoaibi Group.  The Shoaibis are a very well known family in Saudi Arabia and they have been excellent hosts for me.  Among many other things, they have sponsored my work visa, which is extremely valuable in KSA, paid my house rent on behalf of Wilson, and provided me with an office to work in.

So when the annual petition for running in the Bahrain Relay Marathon came whirling around the office, I was game.  The event is strictly for charity.  The course is broken-up into 16 segments that range in distance from 2.6km up to 3.2km.  The race starts at the F1 Race Track in Bahrain and makes its way out into the desert and then back to the starting line for the finish.  There are a few basic rules:

1. The active runner must always be carrying his/her team's baton.
2. No runner can run consecutive legs of the race.
3. Good sportsmanship at all times.

The race is an awesome event.  This year almost 160 teams signed-up to run.  Hotels, banks, private companies, schools, school staffs, etc.  There is no limit requirement other than you do your best and follow the rules above.

I was quickly accepted onto the team because I am so fast...or at least they thought I was fast.  Initial courtship took place in the mid-summer, so everyone was snapped to alert when Annalise Widdowson sent out the first critical email about the race.  Suddenly things were getting more serious.  Here's her email:

Dear all


Please see attached notes regarding next week’s race.



I have been asked to point out the following:



1 Matthew, please ensure you arrive at the BIC by 9.15 to collect the baton and to sign in.


2 Failure to run with the baton leads to disqualification. So don’t drop it!


3 Please ensure you arrive early at the start of your leg – please allow 10 mins before the start (estimated start times below). As suggested in my previous email, please drive to the end of your leg, then walk to the start to warm up. Please phone me on 38320439 to let me know you are have arrived, otherwise I will need to send a runner to cover your leg.


4 Please take a moment to familiarize yourself with the route (see attached)


5 Ambulances are available should you need them!!


6 The race finishes at 3pm. At this time, the roads will open up again, and the marshals will pack up.

 Going by last year’s times, the estimated start times are as follows. (Please arrive at your start 10 minutes before.)

 Leg Name Estimated start time


1 MATTHEW ETTER 10am


2 ALI JAFFAR 10.15am


3 ASMAA JAMIL 10.30am


4 RONI (MAE’S BROTHER) 10.50am


5 MAE CHAMI 11.10am


6 JENNIFER LEVESCONTE 11.30am


7 JASON LEVESCONTE 11.50am


8 JOHANN DUTOIT 12.15pm


9 NIGEL WIDDOWSON 12.35pm


10 ANDREW BEAN 12.55pm


11 MICHAEL PRIESTER 1.15pm


12 AHMED AL-NOAIMI 1.35pm


13 MARTIN BIRCH 1.55pm


14 MARTIN PEARSON 2.15pm


15 JULIE PEARSON 2.35pm


16 MARK JENKINS 2.55pm


Nigel has the race tshirts and your race number. He is in Saudi and Bahrain today so if you see him, please grab your tshirt from him.


Our race number is 28 (so if you have any supporters, tell them to look out for this number!!) You must wear the race number on the front and back. Please bring safety pins with you!



Mae will be emailing shortly regarding distribution of Shoaibi tshirts and meeting up after the race.






Thanks


Annelise

This was a serious wake-up call!  I was leading off the race!  Suddenly my knee-touch stretches didn't seem like enough preparation for this event.  3 kilometers...mmm.  I quickly dropped that into my measurement-changer and up popped 1.86 miles.  That's a bit of a hike for someone who hasn't ran in 2 years; I may be in good swim shape, but my knees, back, and legs are not in running shape at all.  "But it's just 15 minutes right?  No problem.  I'm in good shape," I tell myself unconvincingly.
 
This past Friday was race day.  I stayed with Martin and Julie Pearson in Bahrain the night before because that would make Friday morning travels easy.  Nigel Widdowson drove me down to the starting line on Friday.  I walked to his house from Martin's (about 200 yards).  As I was leaving, Martin says, "We'll see you in an hour mate...good luck."  That's what I'm talking about.  In one hour it would be over. 
 
Nigel and I were a little late to the track, so after parking we "jogged" to the registration booth, which was about 1/2 mile away.  "huffff...pufffff"  Nigel is like a gazelle running through the crowd to the registration desk....I'm trying to break holes in the Earth.  Every step feels like a gigantic clomp! on the ground.  My lungs feel good, but the other stuff is saying, "Whoa, don't be doin that Willis."
 
We sign-in and I get our baton - a plastic piece of pipe with our Team Number 28 taped on the end.  Nigel then pats me on the back and says, "Well I'm going to head to my station and get ready.  Have fun...don't take it out too fast."  What was that?  I assume it was all he could think to say, but no matter, it wasn't exactly the stroke of encouragement I needed.  Now I had 20 minutes to "stretch" and look fast amongst all of these runners.  To me it looked like most teams had either put their best people up front or the contest had no weak runners!  Here's the scene from above.
 

 
D-Moment approaches with a blaring, "Racers you have 5 minutes before the start.  If you are not leading off the race for your team, please clear the starting area."  I nonchalantly wedge into the starting area amongst 160 other little people; I feel like godzilla around all of these fleet-footed folks.  Then suddenly, "You're off!"  What in the world is going on, no "30 seconds!" warning?  We went from 5 minutes to go and the cheetahs never looked back.  Take a look at the not-so-fleet-footed camera man who was caught off guard and the fleet-footed runners who almost trampled over him.
 
 

 
...Small steps, baby steps, SPLAT! a woman tumbles down on my right side, baton bouncing everywhere as a little man hurdles her like we're in a steeplechase...bigger steps, 75 yards in..."Heyyyyyy!!!!!"  This guy is running backwards next to me while waving to people in the stands.  He quickly squares back around and keeps going.  Large man huffing and puffing away on my left, Ipod in action of course..."Hrrumph...Hrrumph" goes the 98 year old man limping by on my right.  I dart out to the edge of the track and pass a few unsuspecting people.  Yep, I'm cruising now.  Long strides, "don't take it out too fast..." blaring away in my head.
 
I arrive at the end of the first long track-way and we do a 180 degree turn and start running back down an alley in the exact opposite direction.  I'm feeling good so far, but it's gotta be the adrenaline.  I look-up and to my left is a fence line running parallel to my direction.  Ethiopians go zooming by at a pace I couldn't acheive in a dead sprint!  I look down my path.  "I've got 500 yards to go before I come back around and these guys just whisked by me!"  Now I'm feeling a bit slower.  I get to the end of this second corridor, smile for an action shot, and then head down in the opposite direction, except this time the end is even farther away.  "Keep pushing buddy..." "hu hu hu hu..."  There goes a 15 year old kid by me.  No prob, slow and steady wins the race.  To the end of the corridor I trudge and onto the F1 track, which suddenly compares to the Pacific Ocean in size.  A third 180 and I'm darting towards the start line again; this is my fourth time up and down this direction, each time down a different corridor.  Legs start feeling weak now, I'm wheezing that dust in from the desert...out of the stadium and down the entry way for spectators...wait down, crap that means I'm going back up now, and slower than grass growing.  A Dad cheers on his son as he passes me in slow motion.  Top of the grade and around a gradual turn and there is the handoff.  By this time the last 100 yards feels like a race in mud.  Here's a picture of a hand-off point for reference.
 

 
I hand off the baton to Ali and he gives me a nervous smile.  "Go Alieee"  My voice is raspy from my 15 minute dance with death...I start hacking and coughing away.  "Walk it off Matt." I think to myself.  After a few minutes I'm fine and head to the parking lot where Julie and Martin were picking me up.  I quickly found them and we drove back for a little rest before heading back out for their segments....
 
TO BE CONTINUED