June 5, 2016 – Rapa Nui Marathon
Last night the course overview and pasta dinner was a disaster. It was scheduled to start at 7 pm and we thought we would therefore have plenty of time to eat and head to the show for 8:30. We were told it was a fifteen minute walk but with Mom’s knee playing up I wanted to budget some extra time. Still, a course overview and a plate of pasta should’ve been imminently doable for an hour.
Unfortunately, Rodrigo didn’t start the course overview until about 7:20. He would speak for several minutes in Spanish regarding the course and provide instructions and then would offer the most cursory English translation. This went on for approximately 20 minutes. Ultimately, the course details were, “you run out to the beach, turn around and run back.” It would’ve been laughably bad if it were so bad. Admittedly, as you’ll soon see, I’m inclined to view Rodrigo in a very negative light so I’m not sure I’m entirely unbiased in my review of his overview… but I’m certainly unbiased on what happened next.
Rodrigo introduced the first Chilean and indeed the first South American, to reach the summit of Mt. Everest. The gentleman spoke in Spanish and Rodrigo said he would translate at the end so as not to interrupt the flow of the presentation.
After about 35 minutes of Spanish and three slides projected behind him, Mom and I looked at our watches and saw it was 8:15 and had to decide on a course of action:
We still hadn’t had any pasta dinner and had no idea how much longer the presentation in Spanish would be… and then assumed the English translation would add a significant amount of time to the proceedings. We were on the opposite end of the pasta buffet line so even if things wrapped up quickly I’m not sure I would’ve had any time to get to the food so we could make it to the show; even if I did get food, I’d have to scarf it down and that wasn’t going to be any fun.
We opted to make a graceful exit as the Chilean ascent to the summit droned on. Jacqui gave us directions to the show location but I still hadn’t had any food. Given that I was running a marathon tomorrow, I needed to eat something. And I wasn’t about to grab and go something. There just wasn’t any time to eat and then make it to the show. Rodrigo has essentially set us up for disappointment and failure – I’d either have to skip dinner to see the ceremony I should have been able to see previously or I would have to once again forgo the ceremony so that I could get some carbs into my system for the race the next morning.
I made the runner decision to go for dinner. Mom and I wound up once again at Mamma Nui’s, just up the road from our hotel, and split a vegetarian pizza. A few pisco sours and a super tasty pie lead us from a crappy pasta dinner debacle to a pleasant food and drink coma. We heard later that the Chilean presentation lasted another 10 minutes or so and then Rodrigo summarized in about 5-10 minutes the preceding 50 minutes of Spanish. The pasta dish was a small tapas size serving of noodles and red sauce (just marinara sauce, nothing in it like meat or peppers or anything). It was described to us as a less than stellar serving. So maybe Rodrigo did us a favor for once again messing up our itinerary and plans.
I spent the evening drafting an email to TravellingFit voicing my frustrations, disappointment, and sense of abandonment at this race event, going so far as to rightly call this the worst running tour package I’ve ever done; they outdid the organizational snafus and screw-ups of The Great Wall of China Marathon and surpassed the missed Australian Outback Marathon which I only blame Virgin Australia for mucking up.
On the morning of the race, June 5, 2016, I had a breakfast of champions – crème brule. Multi-crème brules, to be honest. Mom suggested I should stage a Raiders of the Lost Ark style shot glass “Pistori!” moment and thus here’s a photo of the post-meal remnants:
I had every intention of going to the Rapa Nui spoken Mass at 9 AM before the race, if only to hear the language and experience a bit of the culture. But after the interminable and incomprehensible Spanish presentation, I thought I wouldn’t get much out of it. Instead, Mom and I went down to the start line and snapped a few photos… including some with my Big Giant Head (BGH) cut-out.
As Mom would later point out, people seemed to really get a kick out of the BGH, which is odd given the plethora of Moais on the island.
Indeed, the official race photographer asked Mom where I was so he could get a photo of the three of us – Mother, Son, and BGH.
As the countdown clock continued, more and more runners arrived both from the mass at the top of the hill and from the surrounding hotels. Mom had staked out a bench and was a de facto gear check for some folks at our hotel running various distances. She was sitting with Tom Casey, the latter cheering on his wife Bunny in her 10K and their son Sean running the full marathon. Unfortunately, we found out too late that we had staked out in the wrong direction of the starting line and therefore the runners would be running away from the bench, not toward it. The best laid plans… all befitting this particular race I suppose.
Still, I snapped away some start line pics of friends and fellow runners:
The starting gun sounded and we were off. Mom had left Tom temporarily in charge of the makeshift gear check and had made her way to the other side where she was able to catch me running at the start. It was great to see her and she captured a few great photos of me:
I should perhaps just say the course was out to the beach, we turned around, and ran back. But I believe the details matter so here’s a few notes from the road:
The water stops were every 5 KM. I thought that would be sufficient but I had underestimated the humidity, the hills, and my starting dehydration level. That’s on me as the race organizers had been upfront and clear about the aid stations.
There were ZERO portapotties on the course. While the race organizers didn’t say there would be portapotties, I had assumed there’d be one or two along the way.
The first half I was really moving. We ran through town, including the “main” street that featured this unique business –
Rent A Car Souvenirs. Ah, remember that time we rented a car on Rapa Nui – I’ll always cherish these fuzzy Moai dice.
There were times when the course was awfully lonely – just you and the road… and the occasionally wild dog or wild horses. I had one sleeping dog that I gave wide berth to, perfectly intending to let him lie – but something happened to spook him as he snarled and chased me a quarter mile, nipping at my heels but never quite scratching, biting, or catching me. I suppose that’s one way to ensure one keeps moving in a race.
The views were quite spectacular. At one point the road itself crested a hill and seemed to vanish into the sea.
But wild flowers and wind were the order of the day, as well as this Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs style spooky tree on the edge of a turn.
After running essentially across the island, we were approaching Anakena Beach, the turn around point for the marathon. There was a long downhill stretch that was fun… until one thought about it and realized that this “fun” downhill meant an incredibly “unfun” uphill on the road back. Like my water intake, I had underestimated the challenge.
I did stop and try and snap a few Moai pics around the beach, at least from a distance. Not sure how well they came out but …
I
It was on the way back that I really felt the dehydration kick in – I had odd chills and not just because of the wind and occasionally moments of drizzle. The hill proved a serious obstacle to time and I saw my pace quickly erode… yet I would still try and cheer on runners as I went, shouting, “Muy bien!” and “vaya, vaya!”
As I hit what I thought was the crest of the hill, I came upon several Marathon Tours runners and snapped some photos:
I even spotted Jacqui on her bicycle supporting her group and told her this hill wasn’t kidding around. She smiled and told me, “I’ve got some bad news, Kevin. There’s still more to come….” And as I looked at the remaining 1/3 of the hill’s incline that lay before me, I’m pretty sure a curse word echoed throughout Easter Island.
As the miles piled on and my pace continued to slow, I struggled ever onward. It was nice to finally hit the crest of the hill but I had walked a fair portion and even then was feeling cotton mouthed and could tell a cramp was forming in my side.
I ran on, as that’s what one does.
Passing the airport, I knew I was getting close to the finish. The runway itself is supposedly 3.5 KM long so I started mentally clicking off the Ks and zeroing in on the finish. The final mile was along the seaside and the gusty winds buffeted me and my spirits.
But I ran on, as that’s what one does.
Struggling up the small incline past the Santander bank and the restaurant Mom and I had already decided would be our celebratory dinner that evening, my spirits were raised at the sight of my new friends and more importantly my Mom near the finish line. With my BGH in one hand and a cowbell in another, Mom is, was, and always will be the ultimate RunKevinRun cheerleader. We snapped a selfie just before I crossed the line:
I thought I finished 8th but later somebody said I was 5th. Whatever the case, I grabbed my medal and bypassed the bruised bananas for a couple of glasses of water, desperate to begin rehydrating.
As I’ve found throughout my experience with Olimpi Chile, the finish area proved disappointing and frustrating. The ink on the yellow ribbon of the race medal bled off and stained my shirt. Mom went so far as to ask for another one but this one’s ribbon was even more smudged, smeared, and stained. Changing into my fresh from the packaging Rapa Nui Marathon shirt, I noticed there was a hole and stain on the sleeve. That’s in keeping with the Murphy’s Law of the Easter Island Marathon experience.
Mom and I hung around to see Sean finish around 4:20… and to partake of communal fries with the trio of Kathey, Ailene, and Russell.
A few more finish photos and we decided an early dinner was in order.
I didn’t see a need to grab anything major for the late lunch – the race started at 10:15 AM so folks could attend mass and so after waiting for Sean to cross the line it was almost 3 PM. Instead, we went for a double cup of gelato.
Mira, a chocolate and vanilla swirl was delicious, and we thought the second scoop was a French vanilla chocolate chip; instead it was a yellow-ish seeded fruit confection. Still tasted good though:
After a quick shower and email check, we headed out once more to Haka Honu for our last dinner on Rapa Nui. After sampling several others, we decided the best pisco sours on Easter Island were here. As a result of mentioning this to the proprietor, they gave me a free one to celebrate my marathon finish.
The awards ceremony was scheduled for 7 PM in the communal gym so I took the opportunity to mail off a post card I had bought the day before, complete with $600 (Chilean) air mail stamp. I also bought Mom a bottle of water and me a Diet Coke as I wasn’t sure how long the awards ceremony might last.
A miscommunication over the price of a Rapa Nui Marathon jacket (I swear he said ‘diez y siete US dollars’ and after horse trading with some American friends I came back with $17 only to have him throw it down in disgust and having another patron explain, saying, “$70… Seventy.”). Needless to say, I did not buy a jacket. It was just another example of rude, ridiculous organization – why they wouldn’t have a sign if the person running the concession stand didn’t speak English yet wanted US Dollars is beyond me. A simple sign, just as a sign in the hotel listing what events were happening that day, could have prevented MANY misunderstandings.
As for the awards themselves? Comically bad… as opposed to the pasta dinner bad. It was all in Spanish so maybe I was finally just giving in to the whole “hey, thanks for coming English speakers who make up at least a third if not more of the field but screw you!” vibe. The opening remarks lead to the introduction of the house band and a Polynesian traditional Rapa Nui dance troupe. We finally got our opening ceremony show at the closing ceremony.
The male dancer’s loin cloth did NOT seem structurally sound and the female dancers shook their coconuts for all they were worth.
Following this 20 minute dance interlude, we got to the awards themselves. Each event had age group awards, so we started with the kid 5K awards and then headed into the female and male sprint triathlon age group winners, followed by female and male half-triathlon age group winners, followed by gender specified mountain bike age group winners, and ending with male and female marathon age group winners.
As names were called, winners received bronze, silver, and gold moai medals… and then each person was met by a Rapa Nui dance troupe member who handed them a bottle of water. Was that their prize I wondered? A bottle of water? In fact, it was the same brand of bottled water that I had just purchased for my Mom. I guess they were a sponsor of the events and wanted some branding possibilities in the victory celebrations but it was a weird, weird moment to see each person be presented a medal and a bottle of water.
As I was sitting with several new friends from America, we made snide comments and jokes. My mom held her “award winning” bottle for let’s say “Best Spectator” and gave a low-voiced acceptance speech, thanking her coach and the Moai heads that inspired the BGH photo.
Our friends from the hotel who ran all three events placed in their age groups across several events, sometimes winning it as the ONLY people in their age groups. Each time they’d go up and get a medal and a bottle of water. By the end of the night, they had their own case of water.
Despite finishing in a respectable time, I did NOT wind up placing in my age group. Too many guys 35-39 ran faster than me so by the end of the night, I walked away with nary a bottle of water. But we laughed quite a bit and that’s not nothing.
Heading back to the hotel, I reflected on the general crappiness of the Rapa Nui Marathon experience but the positive Rapa Nui memories I got to share with my Mom.
Before heading to bed, I checked my email and had a cursory note from TravellingFit. I responded, tapping out a final note on my final night:
It is what it is. I just need to run on, as that’s what I do.