RACE DAY IN NAHARIYA

 

RACE DAY IN NAHARIYA

I love to run races. I’ve been doing this for more than 40 years.

Nahariya, Israel where I live holds a race once a year.

Some years ago, on an intermediate day of Succot, Nahariya held its annual Race Day. I was over psyched, and maybe as some justifiably believe: maybe certifiable.

I had just finished reading a terrific book entitled “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall. Quoting from a blog: “It is a book “full of incredible characters, amazing athletic achievements, cutting-edge science, and, most of all, pure inspiration”.

The book climaxes with a grueling 50-mile race in the wilds of the Sierra Madre mountains. At this location a half dozen superb American ultrarunners were pitted against an incredibly amazing group of Mexican Indians. These Indians are  touted to be the fastest and the best long distance runners in the entire world.

The tribe is called the Tarahumara. They live in Mexico’s Copper Canyon region, a most desolate and unforgiving maze of steep mountains with sheer drop-offs into rock-filled valleys.  The Tarahumara have a most peculiar style of running characterized as “Easy, Light, Smooth and Fast”. Their backs are held ramrod straight,  knees bent, arms held at rib height, taking itty-bitty bird-like steps.  And forget about your fancy running shoes, the Tarahumara run in sandals that are fashioned from rubber tires.  For the Nahariya race I ran in my oldest, least supportive pair of running shoes that I found in the bottom of a closet.

It worked out just fine. 

In no way does Nahariya resemble Mexico’s Copper Canyon.  Nahariya is flat; it is beautiful.  Not so Copper Canyon: Several years ago, I had occasion to fly over the area in a single engine Cessna air taxi, all the time saying Tehillim (psalms), praying that the pilot/owner had properly maintained his aircraft, that the quality of aviation fuel was not substandard, and that engine problems were not very likely to happen.  The terrain was so foreboding that if we went down, we would not have a chance in hell of anyone ever finding us or what remained of us.

Sometimes I am too optimistic. I had signed up to run a 10K, but that wasn’t going to happen.  About six months before I fractured my ankle and despite the not so tender ministrations of Basal, the physical therapist, I was not yet good to go, so it was going to be a 5K for me.  Basal, who in a previous life must have trained under Torquemada of Spanish Inquisition infamy, started me off by jogging in sand. I graduated from jogging in sand to running on grass but had not yet taken myself out for a spin on hard pavement.  I was saving the best for last or maybe I was just plain afraid to do a test drive.

I planned to incorporate the Tarahumara methodology into my racing strategy, alternating running Easy for two minutes then Fast for another two minutes

Let’s gather some prospective here.  Nahariya is flat and unlike Copper Canyon there are no steep gorges.  At 7:30 AM, the temperature in Nahariya was 68 degrees Fahrenheit, and in Copper Canyon the temperature approached 100 degrees, and dehydration was a realistic concern.  I expected to complete the flat 3.25 mile course in way under an hour, not too shabby for an old shlepper with a bum foot. 

I have a peculiar "racing" custom. Whether you know it or not, each letter of the Hebrew alphabet has a standard numerical value as does every word. My custom is to look for a Hebrew word that has the numerical value of my race bib number which was 174.

I found that the Hebrew word מסעד, which means “support” has a numerical value of 174, which was my bib number. The calculation goes like this:

מ = 40

ס = 60

ע = 70

ד =  4

       174

Ever the optimist, I took this as an other worldly sign that there will be support for me in this race.

 But מסעד just might mean that I should have followed last week’s advice from my Physician and get a "support" sock for my weakened ankle.  And of course, just as real men are not in the habit of eating quiche, a support sock was certainly out of the question.  In any event having some friends at the starting line was all the support I needed.

 There I was at the starting line armed with the Tarahumara technique (far from mastered) and positive Torah feedback (also far from mastered), all primed and rearing to go.  There was no firing of a starting pistol; that sort of thing can be misinterpreted here in Israel with everyone scattering for cover.  The Race Manager just said “GO”, and off we went, probably 1,500 of us, including a contingent of Nahariya English speakers.

 

 One more thing: One of the best parts of the race was what happened before it actually began. The Municipality provided us with a succah and refreshments. So when I was ready t took a drink of water and some dates. Then I said the appropriate blessings, including the blessing "לישב בסוכה"  to dwell in a succah.  A municipal succah, would you believe? 

Israel sure is an incredible place.

I was happy to cross the finish line, but admittedly feeling a little empty. In my head the race had ended a bit too soon.  My brain was saying that I could have gone further or maybe I could have gone faster.  However my body countered with “Please Sir, may I have some more Motrin, please”. 

Yeah, it was going to be a multi-Motrin day. 

My time was good, better than what I hoped for.

Thank you Tarahumara. Thank You God.