Race walking with your head on fire is a strange sensation.
This, even after I walk in bright sunshine through a water shower made
possible by a local fire tender.
More than 3,000 people, myself included, pass through this quiet rural road on our way around a ten kilometre course.
More than 3,000 people, myself included, pass through this quiet rural road on our way around a ten kilometre course.
Most run, I walk determinedly, as do a few others gathered in
competitive cluster as focussed on besting one another as any Olympian contest,
though they move slower, with more venom.
Later, I discover some jog on stretches where nobody is watching them.
Later, I discover some jog on stretches where nobody is watching them.
Turning a quiet corner, I meet a parked fire tender belonging to the
local Civil Defence Unit. Water hoses spray hanging moisture into the atmosphere
from either side of the road.
They offer a choice: walk dry or take a soaking.
I stop beneath the silver spray and thank the god of walkers for sending these fine angels to us on this day in the 20 degree heat of near noon.
They offer a choice: walk dry or take a soaking.
I stop beneath the silver spray and thank the god of walkers for sending these fine angels to us on this day in the 20 degree heat of near noon.
Not a very high temperature, but add body heat from competitive walking
and the numbers climb.
Soaked through, I walk on with a new squelch in my step.
I do not take on water at the next water station. I am hydrated enough.
A short while later, in direct sunlight, my head heats up from the inside past ignition point to where I wonder what the protocol might be for a fiery head bearing down on the finish line.
I walk on, determined to finish or fall in the attempt.
My head cools down somewhat as I hit a shady area and I pick up my pace, once more.
Soaked through, I walk on with a new squelch in my step.
I do not take on water at the next water station. I am hydrated enough.
A short while later, in direct sunlight, my head heats up from the inside past ignition point to where I wonder what the protocol might be for a fiery head bearing down on the finish line.
I walk on, determined to finish or fall in the attempt.
My head cools down somewhat as I hit a shady area and I pick up my pace, once more.
I pass the finish line and wonder if steam is coming from my ears from
the soaking.
Or if smoke is truly escaping from inside my skull.
Or if smoke is truly escaping from inside my skull.
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