This past week, the Olympic trials of track & field have been taking place in Eugene, Oregon. Alongside the “glory” events of track is an obscure event that took place in the parking lot of Autzen Stadium. I am talking about the 20k race walk. Over 12 miles of agonizingly slow racing, an event that no doubt was won by the man who could swing his hips the widest. This is an event that makes the spectator want to scream “Just run, for the love of all that is holy, just run!!!”
But alas, it is not fair of me to criticize a sport that I have not tried. So today, with absolutely no preperation (other than actually running about 70 miles a week) I set forth to pop my race walking cherry. The first item on the agenda was finding a location that was hidden enough so nobody would see me. I could probably run a marathon in a banana hammock and feel completely at home but there is no way I have enough self confidence to race walk in public. The local high school track was out of the picture because there was a football camp taking place. The local running/walking trail would have been perfect, but way too many people. Then the lightbulb went on in my head, the cemetery! I measured off a 1 mile loop and started to prepare for my endeavor.
The Olympic trials 20k race walk winner averaged roughly 7 minutes per mile. My wife always rips on me for how slow I walk (I’m a runner for cryin out loud, not a walker) but I was out to prove her wrong. A 7 minute mile? Ha, I could do that in my sleep, or so I thought.
I click the start button on my watch and off I go. 1 minute into the run er walk, my shins begin to cramp up… so this is what shin splints feel like, ouch! Another minute goes by and I am starting to regret eating that bowl of Cheerios about 45 minutes before (this was a spur of the moment thing). I’m really beginning to sweat by now, my shins are begging me to stop. I think to myself, maintain form, really swing those hips. Heel toe heel toe heel toe heel toe. I’m looking at my watch every 20 seconds, hoping to see what, I do not know. When I reached the 7 minute mark, I was really disheartened due to the fact I had not yet covered 3/4 of a mile. I had spent the last several minutes looking around constantly for people watching me but fortunately all I saw were tombstones. Were the ghosts laughing at me? I was seriously starting to hurt and considering dropping out. Hell no, I must march on (more like a death march). I try to kick it in, but to no avail. The feeling I was going through was akin to that dream us runners have when we are in a race, feeling like we could go faster but the legs just don’t cooperate. My freaking legs were stuck in quicksand, prisoners to the rules of racewalking (Front leg must be completely straight, one leg must be touching the ground at all times). I dig deep and move my hips from side to side as quick as I can, finally, the finish. I completed my 1 mile race walk in 10 minutes and 41 seconds. The Olympic Trials qualifying standard for the 20k racewalk is roughly 8 minutes per mile. I was only 2 minutes and 41 seconds short. Of course, I only did 1/12th the distance.
So here’s to you race walking Gods and Goddesses! While you look like runway models on crack, I must admit, racewalking is no freaking joke.
