Take Me to the Hospital

I'm in training.  Mind you, I use the word "training" very loosely.  You see, I am what is known as a recreational runner, and therefore winning is taken completely off the table.  Finishing is my ultimate goal.  My training consists of putting in the miles, whatever is required to be "ready enough" for a certain race at a certain time.  My newest challenge looms ahead next weekend, in the form of the Hospital Hill 10K.

The first time I ever heard of Hospital Hill, I wasn't a runner. In fact, my running days hadn't even been thought about yet.  My ex-brother-in-law was some sort of running phenom-type, and he mentioned the Hospital Hill race in passing.  He was quite blase about it, and I was in awe.  At the time, I was quite certain that hill running of any sort would land me in said hospital, rather than running outside somewhere near one.

Suffice to say the race has a reputation.  And by reputation I mean people brag about the number of times they vomited and "still finished".  It usually takes place in June, when it's just starting to be nine hundred degrees, and by the way the race should be called Hospital Uphill, since just "hill" vaguely implies the hill might be going the direction that makes you not vomit.  For the uninitiated, let me make a comparison with another well-known race, The Trolley Run.  Since both take place in roughly the same part of town, it makes perfect sense to compare the two.  The Trolley Run, a Kansas City tradition, is a four mile race that is advertised as "all downhill".  The Hospital Hill Race, another Kansas City tradition, offers a 5K, a 10K, and a half-marathon option, with the race website full of helpful information for beginners.  I really like this quote:  "Consider it one of the hardest races you will do. A good showing at Hospital Hill Run earns you bragging rights!"  The Trolley Run is like a sweet little puppy, newly adopted, who crawls up on your lap to give you kisses.  Hospital Hill is like a wild, rabid, snarling wolf; teeth bared, foaming at the mouth and biting an imaginary bat that keeps flying around its head.  Same family, but two very different animals. 

I have zero desire to vomit before, during or after this race.  If that's the badge of honor, I don't need no stinking badges... but I'm under no illusion that it might be easy.  Most of my training as of late has occurred on relatively flat surfaces, although I have added in some hills in the last couple of weeks.  I didn't decide to do this race particularly early, so although I was covering the mileage necessary, I have failed to add in the necessary hills and speedwork that might have been helpful come next weekend. 

I figure I may have to walk some, and I'm telling myself, "So be it".  I'll get the shirt, and the bragging rights for completion, even if it's just this once.  The fact that I signed up for the 10K instead of the half makes it a pretty safe bet that I'll finish.  And it's early in the morning which should keep heatstroke and dehydration at bay, at least during the hour I'm out there.  To make me feel even better, it's right by a hospital, so that most likely means some scrubs-wearing personnel will be running alongside the course with gurneys just in case.  What?  You think not?  Well, a girl can dream...