The last of four Summer on the Track meets was slated just a few days after the 8-Hour Dream relay. I wasn’t sure how hard I’d be able to race due to some lingering pain and fatigue. Still, I couldn’t pass the meet up, and not just because they’d all been so much fun. This one promised another totally new running experience: a 4×400 donut relay. In addition to the allure of donut shenanigans, I also planned to attempt a mile PR.
My race line up for the night: the 800 meter, the 1600 meter, and then the donut relay with my Oiselle Volée team mates.
I’ve come to love the 800 meter. The first lap is over before my body can even register that it is throttling on all cylinders. The second asks for a bit of fight to hold pace, and the proximity of the finish line makes it feel doable. I don’t track my 800 PR history, so I’m not even sure by how much, but Strava told me I got a PR. A good sign for the mile to come.
We had enough time between events for one quick lap around the track, staying loose before the call for the mile. I’d been surprised how smooth the 800 felt, and hoped I could slide right back into that easy rhythm.
Lap one felt good, just like the 800, that just getting started magic. Rounding the bend of lap two, a slight panic slipped in. I have to hold this for nearly 3 more laps. My brain asked me to slow down, to save something for the final laps. My heart said no, hold steady. While this inner war raged, my body just kept pushing into lap 3.
I was on track for a 6:42 finish, which would clear my previous best by eleven seconds. All I needed to do was keep it together. I dug a little deeper, and then I found a bit of kick in the final straight away. 6:34! I was breathing hard, but not totally destroyed. For the first time I thought maybe I’ve got a sub-six in me, one of these days. A once wild, unknowable territory, inviting me to venture there.
The donut relay was hilarious and humbling. The challenge: eat five donut holes, sprint a 400, then tag in your team mate. I took the first leg, in part to get it over with. I hadn’t expected to feel so nervous, and the thought of waiting for spot 3 or 4 seemed daunting.
I have zero practice with speed eating. I smashed the donut holes a bit before putting them in my mouth. Maybe that helped some, but it still felt like the whole world hit the brakes into slow motion. Each donut hole began a fresh eternity. Chewing madly, desperate to swallow faster.
I think I was second or third to finish the eating part, but I lost some serious time on my lap. There was a fist-sized burning where the donuts bottlenecked half way down my esophagus. My legs said yes, but my chest rebelled: You can either breath or work through these donuts. The burning slowed me down about 20 seconds, eons in track time.
The fun part was being finished and watching the drama unfold for everyone else. Rachel, one of my team mates said: Hey, these are cake donut holes, not yeast! That’s a dirty trick. She had a good point. Yeast would have certainly gone down a bit faster.
I am pretty sure we came in last place, and it’s pretty safe to say I don’t have a future in competitive eating. But in joy and laughter, we came in first as far as I was concerned. We all won, really. Team and community spirit, plenty of high fives and encouragement, the chance to compete, and plenty of leftover donut holes for one and all, if you could stomach them.