Alpine Races Half Marathon race report

New day, new state. Drove to Lake Zurich, Illinois last night so I could run the Alpine Races Half Marathon.

Having run relatively fast yesterday, I wasn't sure how today would go. My main goal was to finish, ideally in under three hours. But considering how sore I was when I woke up this morning, well, that felt like a big challenge.


I stayed across the street from the start at Paulus Park, which meant I could saunter across the street 20 minutes before the start, pick up my packet, check a bag, and get ready to run.

It was stormy overnight, but the day was bright and cool. And isn't Lake Zurich pretty?

There were lots and lots of runners milling about. I spent some time trying to loosen up my legs -- apparently it didn't occur to me to stretch out my quads yesterday. Sheesh. Anyway, soon it was time to start, and the runners lined up on the path behind the line. One sad thing -- the race wasn't chip timed, so I was 30 seconds behind from the get go. (Ha ha.)

But we ran out and I tried to settle in to a rhythm. I decided to be disciplined and run/walk 5:1 intervals from the very start. Or at least as long as I could. After about a mile I felt a bit looser, but the field was small enough that I was soon running with only a few people.

The course ran through neighborhoods as well as along the lake. Pretty, but unremarkable. It was also surprisingly hilly. Not hilly like Seattle, of course, but lots of rollers. But pleasant enough. There were also lots of water stops, which meant I got to take extra breaks. Yay for extra breaks.

I got to mile 5 feeling pretty good, which made me think of the 5 miles + 5 miles + 5 kilometers breakdown. I also got to mile 5 just after being passed by the front runners on their way back. Yeah, they were more than 3 miles ahead of me at that point.

Miles 5-8 were around a loop through some more big houses (potentially a golf club?). I was bored and tired -- but that's more my fault than anything else. I just kept running and walking and moving along.
As I got close to mile 8, I saw a woman walking the wrong way on the course. She was wearing a half marathon bib, which confused me, because I didn't think I'd been there before. But then I saw that the sign -- about a block away -- had been blown over. When I got to the guy standing at the mile 8 marker I said, "A woman missed a turn on the course -- she's going the wrong way." He looked up the street -- she was barely visible -- but didn't say anything. I said, "She just missed the turn -- because the sign is blown down and there's no volunteer there." He just shrugged and said something like, "Well, she wasn't going to win anyway."

Now, I assume this guy has a radio -- or could have asked someone else to go after the woman. But he didn't. I hope the woman didn't get lost, or that someone pointed her in the right direction. I feel bad that *I* didn't go back to help.

I've been that person at the back of the pack, feeling tired and lost. I just hope she didn't get too lost, and that she was able to finish the race. Hopefully there was some sort of course sweeper that made sure she got back to the finish line.

Anyway... I made my way back to the finish line, taking shorter runs and longer walks, but moving. I was really happy to get back to the lake!

The last two miles passed slowly. I was in a little clump of runners all slowly getting to the finish, swapping "leads" and, somehow, encouraging each other. I can't tell you how happy I was to see the big purple arch.

At some point I was trying to calculate my estimated time. I decided that I couldn't possibly beat yesterday's time, so I should just take it easy. And then I decided that, even if I walked, I would be able to finish under 2:30. But, somehow, as I approached the finish, I saw that it was just over 2:23. I guess if I had pushed it a little bit, I would have beaten yesterday's time. Oops.

I crossed the line in 2:23:43 (gun) / 2:23:29 ("chip"), feeling much the worse for wear. I picked up my "breakfast bag" (well stocked with yogurt, bagel, cream cheese, orange juice, trail mix, a granola bar, and an apple), my checked bag, and then just slowly trudged back to the hotel for a hot bath.

Not my finest performance -- even if the time was pretty good. Most important, of course, is picking up state #22 -- Illinois!!!

Oh, and I can't forget to share this pic of the race shirt... a day-glo hoody!

well, it will be a colorful addition to the next race quilt...

Brewers Mini-Marathon race report

When I decided to attend the Shop.org Annual Summit in Chicago, my next step was to find a half marathon or two for the weekend before. Located just a couple of hours north, Milwaukee's Brewers Mini-Marathon was a perfect choice.

Packet pickup the day before was fast and efficient -- even if I got a little lost trying to get into the parking lot. And did I mention that parking was free?? Pickup -- and the race start -- was at Miller Park, the beautiful home of the Milwaukee Brewers.

Signage was excellent, and I was quickly headed up a very long escalator.

I grabbed my goodie bag -- real goodies -- and bib, reviewed the map, tried to suss out the parking, and left. I was in and out in under five minutes. Perfect!

sweet goodies!

Nice touches -- a personalized bib, a voucher for a free ticket to a Brewers game in 2014, and... what's that in the upper-right-hand corner? Why, it's a Hank Aaron bobblehead, of course!!!

Hammerin' Hank!!!

Race morning was glorious -- I got to the park quickly, got great parking, sat in my car for a bit tryingto decide whether or not to wear my long-sleeved shirt, and then decided to trust the weather reports and headed to the start.

Best part about starting a race at a major-league stadium? Loads of indoor bathrooms! And did I mention the free parking again? Plus it gave me a chance to have a little sneak peek inside the very pretty ball park.

The wall behind the big screen is glass, so you could see the sky brightening. It's such a pretty park!! After wandering around for a while I decided it was time to head out to the start area. When I picked up my bib, it said I was assigned to corral "I". I was sure hoping I hadn't fat-fingered my time again (like one particular Rock 'n' Roll Seattle!) and gotten myself assigned to the first corral! But I was glad to see that I was in letter I, not number 1.

A little pumping music, a nice simple rendition of the national anthem by someone in the Brewers organization, and the race started. We started 10 minutes late -- probably due to the number of folks struggling to get into the parking lots.

I love running races in cities I don't know. My only Milwaukee reference point was Happy Days,which wasn't even filmed there. But the course took us around the stadium, and then all over town. There were no significant hills, but a lot of little inclines and downhills. We ran through some industrial areas, along rivers, and across bridges. The first "landmark" was the Harley Davidson Museum. I somehow managed to pretty much miss all of it apart from the sign. It was, however, the site of the only bad thing from the race.

I got a cup of water and was walking off to the side sipping it. (I lack the coordination to drink from a cup while I run. Well, okay, I can drink from the cup, but I end up also snorting it up my nose, choking, and gasping for air. It's just faster for me to actually walk and drink.) I took the last little sip, poured it into my hand, and then dampened the back of my neck. Even though I wasn't too warm, it's just a habit.
I dropped the cup n a trash can and suddenly -- SPLASH!!! -- what felt like half a cup of water got dumped down my back and a guy trotted past. I said, "What the hell was that for?" He stopped and started saying that I should wet the back of my neck to keep from getting too warm. WHAT?!?!?!
"Mr. Helpful Runner Guy" stood there smiling as if he expected me to thank him. But I just shouted at him that, actually, I like to manage my own hydration and temperature control, and that now I had one very wet foot. He said, "Oh" and tried to fist bump me. (WHAT?!?!?!? again). I waved him off, told him to go away, and tried to run past him. But he kept talking at me. I told him that I was no longer listening to him, told him to leave me alone, and eventualy had to shout at him to GET AWAY FROM ME before he moved away.

So weird.

So my wet right foot and I headed on our way, me seething and trying to make sure I kept far away from Mr. Helpful Runner Guy. But the sun was out, the course was nice, and I decided to just forget him.

A few miles later, we passed the Mitchell Park Domes, a set of greenhouses which are probably amazing, but pretty underwhelming from the road. I was starting to feel a little tired by this point, but decided to see how it would play out if I just kept going.

Two-race weekends -- which I don't do often -- are a conundrum for me. Do I take it easy on the first day, maybe walking the second part of the race, in order to save my legs for day two? Or do I just go for it? I never really know. Add to that the fact that I haven't run a half since Rock 'n' Roll Seattle back in July, and have barely run at all since breaking my finger. I wasn't even sure I would be able to finish one race, let alone two.

I was feeling pretty "done" when I got to mile 9. We made a sharp turn and... suddenly... entered Miller Valley.

Now, I know the Brewers play in Miller Park. And I guess I probably knew that Miller Beer was brewed in Milwaukee. But I somehow didn't connect "Miller Valley" with Miller Beer. But we ran down a hill and entered the brewery.



We passed a replica of the original brewery, the historic caves, and ran under the "Beer Bridge" (which for some reason made me think of Laverne & Shirley...). The road was crossed with sections of cobbles, which made for some slightly tricky footing, but everyone seemed to navigate it okay.
Running through Miller Valley was, for some reason, really energizing. Maybe because it was such a surprise for me? Maybe because I love industrial heritage? Who knows. But I came out the other side feeling chipper.

Soon we were crossing over another bridge (or was it an overpass?) and I knew we were headed back to town. I guess the downside of running in a new city means you don't really know how far you are from the finish.

Which shouldn't imply that the course wasn't well marked! This race used the most ingenious mile markers I've seen. Each marker included a clock with gun time, a large mile indicator, and a flag to signal race conditions. It's not the hfirst time that I've run a race that followed a flag system (green, yellow, red, black), but it's the first time that I've actually SEEN flags on the course and been clearly notified in advance of how runners would be informed in the event that things started to go wrong. Thankfully, we stayed green all race long.

Eventually we got close to Miller Park, doing a little loop around part of the parking lot before running into the stadium. Did I mention how lovely Miller Park is?

entering the field

runners on the jumbotron

We ran around the warning track from left field, behind home plate, and out again along the first base line to right field. I made a point of high-fiving the kids who were cheering like mad in the front row. As we passed home plate, we were shown on the jumbotron. One small miss by the organizers -- have a timing mat that pops up the runners' names so during quiet moments you can announce their names. Disney does it at the Disneyland Half Marathon and it's awesome.

Then out of the stadium, up a tiny hill, and the finish was straight ahead. I tried to pick it up a bit, but I was already on empty. I crossed in 2:22:12, feeling pretty surprised to have done pretty well, given the situation.

I made my way through the goodie gauntlet -- skipping bagels, but grabbing a banana, an amazing chocolate chip cookie, a carton of chocolate milk and, oddly, a large bag of Lays Air Pops chips. I then headed over to the post-race party, where a band was playing (or at least music? It was pretty crowded), food and drink was being served, and people seemed to be having a great time. I considered getting one of my TWO free post-race beers, but the beer area was crazy busy -- no clear lines, just masses of people -- and, hey, it wasn't even 10am. So I decided to bail.

Now, I try to have a goal for each race. Not necessarily a time goal -- just to either learn something, to stay positive at mile 12, or even to remember to smile at the race photographers. For the Brewers Mini-Marathon, other than picking up state #20 (Wisconsin!) my one goal was to have my picture taken with one of the racing sausages. As I headed out to the parking lot, I saw them! Now, which one should I choose? German Sausage, of course!

(who knew they were so tall?)

Lots to love about the Brewers Mini-Marathon. I thought it was very well organized, had a nice shirt, great course, and tons of great volunteers. If I could change two things, I'd have an announcer calling out names inside the stadium and more people serving beer at the post-race party. But that's it!
Hooray for state #20!

farewell, Wisconsin!

Bubble Run race report

An awful lot of time passed between Run For Your Lives and this event, but, hey. Nothing like a little surgery to slow you down a bit, even if it is only your finger!

Having run a "color run" earlier this year, and since this was the year of weird little fun runs, I simply couldn't resist the Bubble Run ... especially when we saw that there was an Amazon Local deal. (Or was it a Groupon?) Anyway - we got a deal on signing up, and Long-Suffering Friend Suz agreed to run in with me. I also shared the news with Reba because her daughter Meg had been wanting to do a color run, so on race day the four of us met up.

Being extra awesome, I was midway through a weird, chesty cold that made me sound "extra sexy" (a.k.a. hoarse and raspy), so I wasn't breathing all that well. Oh well -- it's an untimed fun run!

(Now may be a good time to mention the absurd Wall Street Journal article "The Slowest Generation"which argued that the reason the USA hasn't won an Olympic Marathon gold medal in forever is because young people aren't competitive enough, and cited color runs -- "which are UNTIMED" -- as the real problem. Yeah, tell Desi Davila, Kara Goucher, and Shalane Flanagan that they aren't competitive enough. Jerks.)

ANYWAY, we headed up to Everett, quickly picked up our packets -- bibs, white shirts, plastic visors that made me feel as if my skull would collapse if I wore it, temporary tattoos -- and then went back to the car to relax and stay warm. About 20 minutes before the start of the race we headed back to the start area, met up with R & M, and then hung out for a while. The mood was festive and there were more people than I expected. As an added bonus, despite weather predictions of rain (and sad warnings from the organizers that "rain and foam don't play well together"), the sky was bright if not sunny, and the day was dry. Hoorah!

Obligatory pre-race photos:

R, M, & S

Suz (LSF) & Sunny

I had learned my lesson from the Color in Motion 5K. There's absolutely no point in trying to squeeze into a corral -- we waited until the first wave was loose, then the second wave moved forward and we just slipped in. More dancing, more waving at the folks in the apartments right next to the starting chute who woke up to discover dance music pumping outside their homes at 9am on a Saturday... Our personal favorite was "shirtless man". We want to thank you for not standing up.

Suz was going to do the rest of her long run that day -- an additional 7 miles -- so we had decided to take it nice and easy... which meant we lost R & M right after the start.

Let me say this -- downtown Everett is actually really cute. Nice main drags with interesting little shops, and streets that quickly turn into pretty residential areas. I know cities welcome races in the hopes of attracting business to their towns; well, Everett, I think it worked. I would like to go back and poke around in your pretty downtown.

Anyway, off we ran through downtown Everett. Our first color station was pink. Now, I know we were told they would be deep with foam... but... they were DEEP WITH FOAM! I was surprised at just how deep they were. Lovely bubbly!

a runner entering the pink bog

We giggled our way through the pink bog and kept going. Another kilometer or so and we hit the green bog -- even deeper!

headed in to the green bog

wall o'bubbles

Suz waist-deep in bubbles

coming out the other side

looking back at the green bog

 Something slightly funny -- the bubbles didn't really cling to cloth... but they sure did cling to skin!

foamy!

A little ways past that we did a funny little double out and back -- imagine tracing the outside of the top of a T -- and soon we were on the main drag coming back. Then the best bog of the day, the blue bog:

This was so foamy, so ridiculous, that we had to stop and take photos:

going in to the blue bog

going in

it's all blue...

so... my waterproof cover was covered with foam.... but that's a very blue Suz

selfie, with foam

Even better -- and possibly the image of the day in my mind -- was this foam-filled stroller. You can't really see the kid very well, but let me just say that the little "smurfette" was NOT AMUSED.

smurfette

The one small disappointment was with the yellow bog -- I think they must have had some power issues? There wasn't much foam, but we did see a guy sprinting toward it with an extra cord. Oh well... we just looped around and ran through the pink bog again because it didn't have any runners in it.

Then back back back toward the start. When we picked up the packets we laughed that we had to go uphill: "Uphill? At a FUN RUN???" Well, it turned out that we had to essentially run up the other side of the hill, which made us a little sad. We turned the corner toward what we assumed was the "finish"... but on the way were handed granola bars and bottles of water. Huh? Did we miss a finish line? We hadn't even quite gone three miles???

As we hustled down the hill -- thinking we had to get to the bottom -- we found R & M. We all headed down to the bottom of the hill where the foam cannons were disgorging foam on the finish party. Fun, but weirdly wet and cold. We took a few more pictures, and then headed on our way.

foam cannons at the finish

Suz & Rebecca

Would I do another "Bubble Run" again? Probably not -- but it was pretty fun*. Though the foam was a novel touch, there was much less color than in a dry color event -- and none to throw around in the after party. (Why weren't the foam cannons at the end splooging out different colors?) The course was nice, the communications from the organizers was very helpful and thorough, and we got lucky with the weather. But at the end of the day, my shirt wasn't as crazy colored as I would have preferred.

not as colorful... but the run was indeed bubbly!

\* To be fair, I'm not planning on doing many fun runs anymore -- but it was fun to spend a summer doing them!

The Zombie Finger or, how I broke my finger at Run For Your Lives...

So this one is just about my finger... how did I break it? Being a zombie at Run For Your Lives.

yeah, something's not right about that ring finger.

By Monday morning there was really no change in my finger. I had kept it splinted up with stuff I bought at Walgreens on Sunday morning. But I had also come to the decision that it was probably fine, and that I had just dislocated it, and "fixed it" by straightening it.

But Wil really wanted me to go see a doctor... which I frankly didn't have time to do, but I figured I should just go and see Dr. Deans so she could give me a clean bill of health.

They squeezed me in within a few minutes. Dr. Deans took a look, felt around a bit, and suggested I get an X-ray because "things feel kinda loose". Down to the radiology clinic I went, where they took three views of my hand. Then back upstairs, where I was put in a room to wait for the results. Ten minutes later, Dr. Deans burst in and said, "Well, it's a fracture, so we're gonna get you in to see the orthopedist today!"

Ah. I thought I would spend an hour or so with Dr. Deans then be sent on my way. I could see the day unraveling before my eyes. The orthopedist was over at Northgate, so I walked home, sent an email to my team that I would miss the next set of meetings, and then drove to Northgate.

Got to the office pretty early, and then started filling out page after page of new patient forms. It seems pretty cruel to make someone with a hand injury fill her name and address out 7 times. By the end, I wasn't even trying to make it legible anymore.

When I was taken back to the exam rooms, it turns out that, because I didn't carry an actual film x-ray (which had been done digitally in Ballard), they needed to take another set. (WTF?) Hopefully my insurance won't freak out about that. So I was sent over to have an additional set of x-rays taken. Awesome!

A few minutes later I met Dr. Scott Ruhlman, who confirmed the break by telling me I sure had done a good job on my finger. Of course, then he wanted to know just how I broke my finger, so for the umpteenth time I had to tell the story. (Dumb enough to break it, bad ass enough to straighten it, smart enough to take off my wedding ring...)

Dr. Ruhlman explained that I had a spiral fracture, which results in the ligaments in my finger slowly pulling the bones down toward the hand. What we needed to do is straighten out the finger, pin it in place, and let the bones heal. They happened to have an opening in their schedule for the next day, so I jumped on it. After all, who wants to wait a week to start getting healed? Besides, my mom was already in town, so she was able to stay overnight and take care of her little girl. :)

We decided there wasn't any point in trying to splint it overnight, so I walked out of the office with a big purple finger, and hurried in to the office for the afternoon.

Tuesday morning finger. Yep, still broken. 

Tuesday morning I got up early to finish a work project (score!) and then headed to the surgery center at 8am. More paperwork (of course!) but I was taken back to the pre-op area quickly. Got into my sweet gown, hairnet thing, and slipper socks, and waited. Oh, I also wrote my initials on my hand where I wanted them to operate. I LOVE THAT.

After a while Dr. Ruhlman came out to say hello, talk me through the operation, and answer any questions. He was going to try not to need an incision, but use x-rays and pins through the skin. (To be honest, I don't remember if this is what he did. Hey, I was doped!) He also told me he was going to do a Bier Block, which would numb my arm from mid forearm down, rather than just numb the finger.

pre-op

Then I met the anesthetist, who told me he would give me a "slug of drugs" which would make me really relaxed so that I wouldn't feel the needles when they numbed my arm, but wouldn't knock me out. Of course, remember very little after I walked into the operating room and climbed on the table... other than meeting the nurses and explaining to the anesthetist why Brooks shoes were the best running shoes. Yeah, that's me, always working!

Then I was waking up ... seemingly mid-sentence with the anesthetist. He told me I chatted throughout the surgery. What on earth do I talk about???

I went into the recovery area and sat for a while. Dr. Ruhlman came out and said it went really well; a nurse brought me some saltines and apple juice (manna from heaven!); and my mom came back and hopefully did a better job of listening to the pot-op instructions than I did.

On the way home I picked up some percoset at Bartells... which I don't like much because it makes me feel queasy. I spent the afternoon trying to take it easy.

The first night was strange; while feeling came back pretty quickly to my pointer finger and thumb, my middle finger and pinkie were just dead meat. Well, not quite dead meat, because I could move them... but I couldn't feel anything. I remembered a colleague -- no stranger to finger surgery -- say that one of the possible side effects of a Bier Block was nerve damage, so I kept lying in bed worrying that I couldn't feel anything and trying not to cry. Of course, the numbness in those fingers also meant that my ring finger was numb... which means I didn't have any pain.

Went in to the office yesterday and almost immediately regretted it. But I was able to interview one candidate for a position and check in with my team, so it was worth it... Oh, and Jana introduced me to the Geico "Hump Day" commercial, so it was TOTALLY worth it. :) But I only held out till noon, when I headed home to work from the couch.

The feeling didn't fully come back to my fingers until this morning, though I still don't have much pain in my ring finger. Hopefully I am past the worst of it!

A few random thoughts: 

The only really good thing is that, since I already hit my out-of-pocket maximum for my insurance this year, I am not going to pay a couple of grand for a moment of folly. 

Percoset makes me break out in a sweat about an hour after I take it. Why is that?

I was really afraid that I would lose sensation in my fingers forever. 

Camels are inherently funny.

Forty-eight hours later and my hand is still quite swollen, I haven't managed to get the "iodine" off my fingers, and I am already bored of the splint. 

Run For Your Lives race report

Last weekend Wil and I ran the Zombie Run in Seattle -- a fun enough, if underwhelming, zombie-themed 5K. This weekend, however, I had roped my LSF (long-suffering friend) Suz into doing the Run For Your Lives 5K with me -- as a ZOMBIE!!!

We signed up for the middle shift -- 10:45 - 12:45, or something like that -- because the race itself was being held in the back of beyond... somewhere called McCleary, that's southwest of Olympia. In addition to the 90-minute drive, we also needed to arrive two hours before our shift so we could be turned into zombies...

Suz picked up up a little before 7 -- and she burst out laughing at the sight of me. See, I didn't just want to wear street clothes... even street clothes that I didn't want anymore. So I went to my local Goodwill the day before and picked up a very handsome leopard-print nightie and some curlers. Add some fluffy "slipper socks" over my running shoes, some running shorts (so I didn't flash anyone -- I figured I would be scary enough...), and a ratty black bathrobe, and I was ready to go.

We drove and drove and drove... but traffic was light and we made good time. We weren't quite sure what to expect when we got there... would there be signs? Gold star for the organizers -- there were large banners out on the highway so it was easy to spot. And you know how I appreciate good signage!!!

We turned into the driveway and joined a small line of cars. Gold star number two: they were super organized with how they took the parking fees. As zombies, we actually even got free parking. Woot!

The parking itself was a little painful -- I'm always amazed at just how long it takes to get cars parked in a field -- but within a few minutes we were out of the car and on our way in. I vacillated a bit on whether or not to wear my bathrobe, knowing it would get destroyed, but in the end decided I would rather have the extra warmth. It was a very good call.

First we stopped at the waiver tent, signed the documents, and then got our "packets" -- a black wristband with our zombie zone number on it and a little card with zombie rules printed on it. Humans received race bibs, too.

Then we joined the line at the Zombie Transformation Center, right on time. It was interesting to see what other zombies-to-be were wearing. Humans were standing around watching the transformations... it was a little like being in a zoo.

wardrobe

First stop was wardrobe, where 4 or 5 guys with various knives and cutting blades shredded clothes. Slight demerit here: it hadn't occurred to us that we would need to take off the clothes we wanted shredded... I think a lot of other zombies had the same issue. But I handed over my bathrobe and they went to work.

Then we went to the next stop -- the makeup line. Chaser zombies -- the ones who would actually be running after the humans -- got less makeup because they were "fresher". Stumbling zombies, like us, got more attention because we were more decomposed. Ewww. 

Some zombies, including both of us, were given prosthetic scars. First they cleaned our skin with rubbing alcohol, then glued on thin latex "scars".

Suz having her scar applied

Ouch!

hmm, am I allergic to latex?

Then on to the next station, where an artist used an airbrush to apply a green-grey-yellowy base pallor.

greenery yallery, Grosvenor Gallery (shout out to my G&S fans out there...)

The next artist airbrushed on contour -- hollowing out our cheeks, under our eyes, etc.

Suz getting contour -- which looked AWESOME!!!

Then a third artist applied "mud splatters" and general dirt by flicking dark paint off the end of a stiff brush.

it's VERY DIFFICULT to get this much makeup off!!

The final stop in the tent was for blood, where Suz and I got sticky dark "blood" on our scars as well as in other spots on our faces. Gory goodness! The masterpieces:

Suz -- looking properly zombified

Sunny - looking a bit worried

We had 45 minutes before our shift, and 30 minutes before the "blood throw" ... so we were allowed to leave the zombie pen and wander around the party. Humans from the first waves had already finished, music was playing, and nervous humans were waiting for their turn to start.  We wandered over to a hill overlooking part of the course -- a series of wide dirt "lanes" with hairpin turns and plenty of hills. In the distance we could see the "smokehouse" -- essentially a giant tent, filled with smoke and live wires with low-voltage electricity. There was also a covered grandstand that occasionally had streams of humans sprinting across it. But we couldn't see much else.

I kept forgetting that we were in full makeup -- we posed for several photos and chatted about the "transformation" with humans. But soon it was time to go back to the pen and get bloody.

ye olde buckets of blood

the blood line...

We joined a line of zombies trudging slowly toward a splattered tarp and some muddy ground, where one of the artists reached into a 5-gallon bucket and threw handfuls of red, sticky goo at each of our fronts and backs. The splat -- when it hit you -- was cold, and surprisingly gelatinous. Clearly not just corn syrup -- it must have had some gelatin in it. But it was sticky an somewhat uncomfortable. Ewwww.

blood thrower!

Shortly thereafter we received our zombie instructions. First the obvious -- no actual human flesh eating. Some zombies threw up their hands and stormed out. (Just kidding.) Then some talk about basic safety -- no tackling, punching, biting, etc. We were also told to look out for overly aggressive humans, and that if we saw -- or experienced -- a human hitting or knocking down a zombie, we were supposed to report it to the course monitors. In either case, the offender would be removed from the course and escorted off the property.

life flag

Then we were told that we also had to let some of them live. (Zombie groans and grumbles.) Each human is issued a belt with three "life flags" attached to it, which they wear while running the race. The belt is kind-of like a flag football belt, with vinyl flags attached with strips of velcro. Zombies are scattered along the course in various zones, and our job is to try and take the flags from the humans. Humans who finish the race with at least one life flag receive a "survived" medal, while other runners receive an "infected" medal. But, because humans are sad when they don't "survive", we zombies were instructed to let some people live.

We had guidelines... in the first mile, or zones 1-4, zombies could take no more than one flag. Scare the humans, sure... let them feel like they had outrun a zombie, sure... but keep 'em alive. Zones 5-8 (the second mile) could go for a second flag, but not take anyone's last flag. And for those of us in zones 9-12, we could take last flags... but not on every human.

Eventually we were split into our zones and walked out to the course. We were told not to get greedy and take any flags while we were en route to our zones... and at one point a large "herd" of us had to cross the course while a few humans were running... and I heard one say, "Oh, wow. That's so unfair."But we let him live...

Our zone was the dirt hills that we had seen earlier. Convenient for us, though it would have also been fun to see some of the other parts of the course. Suz and I were sent with another two zombies to a flat spot at the top of a small hill. As stumblers, we weren't allowed to chase the humans, and the chasers in the flat just before our hill weren't allowed to chase humans up the hill.

We took our positions and waited. After a few minutes, our first few humans came stumbling through. My first thought was how tired they all looked -- how muddy, tired, and frankly defeated they looked. Even just running up the little hill to our perch seemed to totally gas people out. Not that that stopped us from launching attacks.

(maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh...)

I don't know which of us got the first flag... but soon each of us had several. I'm not gonna lie -- there was some zombie high-fiving going on... and I don't think I was alone in letting out a war whoop after one particularly satisfying grab. Sometimes I would lunge at a human who would change direction - right into Suz's path. Sometimes Suz set them up for me. It was pretty fun. Some of the humans gave up their flags really easily -- others were bound and determined to hold on to them. Some humans essentially cheated by putting on their belts under long shirts, so the flags were mostly hidden. Still others decided to wear their flags in what the organizers described as the "swimsuit area", thinking that that would deter zombies. Well, no...

A few humans tried to hold on to their flags with their hands -- but the course marshalls were clear about this -- humans couldn't just grab and hold their own flags. Some humans were smart, gathering in groups before running though a zombie area. Some teams actually organized themselves so that humans with flags were protected by those who had lost theirs. (Smaaart.) Other humans got more aggressive and pushy. Some hit out pretty hard trying to keep us away from their flags. Others almost tackled zombies.

I don't want to imply that the zombies were all pillars of the community... one of the chasers near us was overly aggressive and frequently broke the zombie rules. But for the most part, the zombies seemed to be having a good time. Our little group even encouraged "lifeless" humans who passed us, telling them they were in the last mile and that they were doing great. Sometimes when we took someone's last flag, our group would quietly chant "one of us... one of us...". Hilarious.

So we happily hunted for about an hour. But at one point, while pulling a flag, I felt a sharp pain and then nothing. After pocketing the flag, I looked at my left hand.

I don't have a picture... but.. well... basically my ring finger wasn't straight anymore. Somewhere below the top knuckle it took a strange left turn. I couldn't figure out, at first, what was going on. I mean, why was my finger shaped like that?

Then I think my inner child kicked in... and I thought, "Oh, wow.. that's broken. I have to fix it, or I'll get in trouble."

So I reached down with my right hand and pulled my finger straight.

My initial thought was, "Well, okay, I fixed that. I totally just fixed that."

But then something wiser in me said, "Umm, no. It's still wobbly."

I should quickly point out that all of that happened in about 3 seconds. I stood there flexing my hand a little... and then turned to Suz and said, "I think I just broke my finger." I think she thought I was kidding... but then looked at me, looked at my hand, and said, "Really?" I'm not sure who said it -- probably clever Suz, though she (as Long-Suffering Friend) may have still been trying to figure out if I was serious -- but I think I said, "I'm taking my ring off and putting it in the zip pocket of my shorts."

In the intervening days I have A) felt like a total badass for straightening my own finger and B) felt like a genius for remembering to take off my wedding ring before my finger swelled up.

I stood around for a few minutes, sorta wondering what to do. As a rule follower, I felt weird about leaving before my zombie shift was over. (Yeah, I know. Dumb.) But I decided that -- if Suz didn't mind -- I'd quite like to go to the medical tent, please.

We said our farewells to our fellow zombies and made our way to a young race official. I said, "Hi... I broke my finger." He looked, said, "Do you want me to call someone?" and when I said, "Well, I just figured I should tell someone that I was leaving my post early." He then fiddled with his radio and called in a "WHITE FLAG... ZONE FOUR... BROKEN FINGER..."

We stood there for a few minutes while I felt increasingly stupid. Suz suggested we could just walk to the medical tent, seeing as it was next to the Zombie Transformation Center. The official hesitated, but when I assured him I could walk there unaided, said that he'd tell whoever turned up that we had gone to the tent.

On the way there Suz spotted an official-looking guy talking into a radio. I thought I heard him say "White flag", so I asked him if he was looking for a zombie with a broken finger. He took a look at my hand and said, "Yep... Let's go."

The staff in the med tent were friendly, sympathetic, and helped me immediately. They splinted my finger and tied it to my pinkie so I wouldn't move it too much. They also told me I should see a doctor, but that I could wait until Monday rather than go to an emergency room or urgent care.

We then went to the zombie tent to check out. As we were walking, Suz and I were wondering if we would still get our shirts, medals, and "drink token", or whether we would have been disqualified somehow. But I figured that they would at least give me a freakin' medal.

But of course, they were cool. They gave us our sweet shirts, "infected" medal, and -- because this event was a dry event, and one of the zombie perks was meant to be a free beer -- a $5 merch token. Now, I didn't need a koozie, a shot glass, or sticker... but they did have a sweet comic book that I thought Wil might enjoy.

Run For Your Lives 5K Infected Medal

We headed to the car, chatting with the next round of zombies-to-be who were lined up outside of the ZTC, and telling them to watch out. As we walked, we both admitted that, other than the broken finger thing, we were pretty much happy with the way the day turned out... that we were both pretty much happy to be done being zombies.

Back at the car we took off some of the icky stuff... I had brought garbage bags, into which I shoved my bathrobe and nightgown. My muddy shoes and socks I put in another bag -- I was keeping those.

So I know what you're thinking.... WHAT ABOUT THE FINGER???