This is a most irreverent race that sucks you in with its sarcastic attitude. I survived this one last year, and was once again unable to resist the temptation to invite bodily pain.
You see, the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey marathon boasts a total elevation change of 7200 feet (or 7500, depending on which statement you believe). In any case, it's a brutal combo of steep ups and downs, and the downs never seem to be quite as long as the ups. The slogan of the race is "Running is Stupid", and that attitude pervades the entire day.
Flying Monkeys are said to inhabit a beautiful park just southwest of Nashville, TN, and are rumored to occasionally attack runners. You are encouraged to deal with the hills as quickly as possible, or risk attack. This is not a "race" for most participants however -- it's an experience to survive, and most people are quite laid-back about the whole thing. There are a few genetic mutants who actually do race, and the rest of us watch in awe when we see them coming, on their way to finish a good two hours before us mere mortals.
It's a small race, about 300 runners. Part of the swag is a personalized race bib and tech shirt, and you are asked for your "monkey name" when you register. Since I was stupid enough to subject myself to this again, knowing full well what was ahead, I chose "Stupid". Not everybody was as self-aware as I, but I did run into Idiot before the race. There was also a red cape in the swag bag, to go along with this year's "Faster than a speeding banana" theme, but I forgot to wear it. Sigh.
The weather in Nashville in late November can be a total crap shoot. Last year it was a very comfortable high-40s range and dry. This year it was a beautiful sunny day, but the temps were in the 20s with wind-chills in the teens for most of the race. Some people were thoroughly bundled up, most were like me (knit hat, gloves, tights, couple of tech shirts and a running jacket), and a few crazies were wearing shorts and/or nothing on their arms. Ummm. NO.
Everyone gathered in the park for the casual start, stood around trying to use other bodies as wind blockage, and got ready to enjoy the gorgeous day ahead, cold wind be damned. One very nice runner offered me an extra set of hand warmers. I took one, and asked him to give the other one to another needy runner. I'm sure he had plenty of takers. I was carrying a camera in the other hand anyway, so it would be warm enough. Trent (the race director) said, "Ready, set, go!" and we were off. No ceremony. It was wonderful.
Before the first mile, we saw our first sign in the "I hate Trent" series: "Trent Sucks". Awesome. I ran with Dorothy for another mile or so. I remembered seeing her last year. She has run the Monkey every year, this was #8, and she drove up from Birmingham AL She had red-sequin slipcovers for her running shoes, and didn't think the wig would get too hot this year. She was going to be happy with anything under six hours. I didn't want to be that cold for that long, so I went on ahead.
After another mile or so, I caught up with group of guys who were running together, obviously old friends. We were all walking up a hill, and one of them was wearing a blade prosthetic. I asked him if his monkey name was "Badass". He laughed and said, no, he just stuck with "Matt" this time. I hung with them until we got to the top of the hill, then took advantage of the downhill. We would leap-frog each other for about 18 more miles before I finally left them behind for good. I don't care what Matt says, he's a major badass and I am in awe.
Thankfully the trees and hills provided some coverage from the wind for most of the course, but there were a few spots on the tops and outside edges where the wind was painfully cold. The biggest problem with stopping to drink or suck down a cold, stiff gel was the chill that could set in if you dawdled too long. I was amazed at the cheerfulness of the volunteers at each and every aid station. They HAD to be miserably cold, yet were smiling and supportive and very helpful. One was even breaking the thin crust of ice in the water cups before handing them to us!
Personally, I had a great day. After I passed mile 20, I decided that I wasn't going to let anyone catch and pass me for the last 10k...unless they were really moving. I steadily caught and passed runners, and managed to stay ahead of them. Things started hurting but not too badly, and finally I passed the mile 26 marker. There stood Paula, holding my cape! I was happy to use that as an excuse to stop long enough to put it on, then run to the finish, passing someone else along the way. I managed to finish three minutes faster than last year, at 5:13:54, relatively pain-free.
...until I got back to the car with my medal and beer. The second I stopped moving, my legs started bitching loudly about the hills. The quads were actually fine, but the hams and calves were just itching to seize up. Somehow I avoided a full-on cramp-fest, and was very happy to sit in the warm car with the seat heater turned on. We had to get Paula back to Indianapolis in time to work that night, so there was no hanging around to socialize or try to score any more swag. Along with the free beer (from a local brewer, Yazoo), there was a pot-luck feast of goodies. I grabbed a plate of food and munched on that all the way back home. Wonderful way to end a race!
