Aaaaaaand DOWN the stretch they come!
This morning I had a rather unique experience. At least, if you're a human being it will probably seem unique. If you are at a race horse, it is, by definition, a rather frequent occurence in your life. But unless you're Mr. Ed, you're probably not reading this blog if you are an equine. And come to think of it, Mr. Ed was only known to be capable of talking, not necessarily reading. Coming back to my point here, this morning, as you may have guessed, I ran in a race on a horse track. Emerald Downs in Auburn, WA to be exact.
Fortunately I wasn't racing against four legged beasts but rather two legged ones, as part of the Super Jock 'n Jill (a local running store) Winter Grand Prix, a series of cross country races. At times the event was comical, bordering on strange, as we gathered in paddock area just before the race, and jumped over hay bales around the halfway point of the race. If only they'd passed out blinders, I wouldn't have had to watch a high schooler sprint pass me in the final meters.
The actual surface of the track was a much more pleasant than I anticipated. This being Seattle, mud seemed likely or else an awkardly uneven surface of hardened dried mud. Instead, the surface looked like a freshly groomed ski run, and felt to consist of firm dirt covered by an inch of two of loose fluffy dirt. The former in itself would have been ideal, as the loose top layer causes the foot to slide slightly on impact, effectively cutting an inch of two off each stride, and requiring greater concentration than running on a more even surface such as a treadmill.
The second surprise was just how BIG those tracks are. At the risk of plagiarizing the venerable Larry Rawson, think about your local high school track, which is four laps to the mile. One such lap is equal to the length of the home stretch of a horse track. Having frequently run the 400 meter event, I remember coming off of the last turn, legs burning, shoulders tightening, lungs screaming for more oxygen, and seeing that elusive finish line right in front of me, but taking forever to actually arrive there. Multiply that by four and, well, the novelty wears off pretty fast.
You would think there would be some common phrase or cliche involving horses and speed that would have made a clever end to that last sentence. But the only things I could come up with that even mention a horse are "don't look a gift horse in the mouth," and "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." Got anything better?
In a "I thought you were joking but you weren't" moment, the race organizers actually had carrots, sugar cubes, and oats (Quaker instant oatmeal, that is) for post race snacks. A nice breakfast trifecta!
Fortunately I wasn't racing against four legged beasts but rather two legged ones, as part of the Super Jock 'n Jill (a local running store) Winter Grand Prix, a series of cross country races. At times the event was comical, bordering on strange, as we gathered in paddock area just before the race, and jumped over hay bales around the halfway point of the race. If only they'd passed out blinders, I wouldn't have had to watch a high schooler sprint pass me in the final meters.
The actual surface of the track was a much more pleasant than I anticipated. This being Seattle, mud seemed likely or else an awkardly uneven surface of hardened dried mud. Instead, the surface looked like a freshly groomed ski run, and felt to consist of firm dirt covered by an inch of two of loose fluffy dirt. The former in itself would have been ideal, as the loose top layer causes the foot to slide slightly on impact, effectively cutting an inch of two off each stride, and requiring greater concentration than running on a more even surface such as a treadmill.
The second surprise was just how BIG those tracks are. At the risk of plagiarizing the venerable Larry Rawson, think about your local high school track, which is four laps to the mile. One such lap is equal to the length of the home stretch of a horse track. Having frequently run the 400 meter event, I remember coming off of the last turn, legs burning, shoulders tightening, lungs screaming for more oxygen, and seeing that elusive finish line right in front of me, but taking forever to actually arrive there. Multiply that by four and, well, the novelty wears off pretty fast.
You would think there would be some common phrase or cliche involving horses and speed that would have made a clever end to that last sentence. But the only things I could come up with that even mention a horse are "don't look a gift horse in the mouth," and "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." Got anything better?
In a "I thought you were joking but you weren't" moment, the race organizers actually had carrots, sugar cubes, and oats (Quaker instant oatmeal, that is) for post race snacks. A nice breakfast trifecta!
posted by Paul at 9:55 PM
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