First, let’s make this clear: I am NOT a runner. Oh, I try to fake it at the gym, and a couple of times I have run outside. I’ve always said, my entire life, that I don’t run. I will only run if a monster is chasing me. And even then, I may just drop over and let the big bad monster have me.
Well, I guess I put it out there … and this past weekend it came back to me. Race The Dead 5K Zombie Run on Sentosa Island, Singapore … a 5K on the beach, chased by zombies. When I first saw this, back when we were still living in the states, I thought that it sounded like fun! But registration filled up within a couple of hours, and we didn’t get in. Then, lucky for Trent, they opened up a second day, and this time we got in!!!
A few weeks ago we picked up our race packet, and, after waiting in the queue, and I finally get to the front of the line to get my size medium shirt, I ask the gal, “how do I survive this run? how do I not get caught by zombies?”
“You no worry. Zombies go after smalls. You big. You survive”
I walked away from that table, thinking, what just happened? I asked a question, and was in turn, insulted? Of course, when I take into consideration that the tee shirts for this race vary in size from XXXS to XL … my medium is on the big end of things. Too funny!
Anyhow, the zombie race was this past weekend, in 90 degree weather, on the beach, wearing black tee shirts. And being chased by zombies. Here is a quick description of what happened:
Trent and I arrived early, queued up, got registered, and were bussed to the starting point of the race, where we waited for our wave of runners. Every 5 minutes another round of 100 runners would start. My heart was pounding, and by the time we were scheduled to start, it was nearly noon and the hottest part of the day. I felt like I was already dehydrated, but I didn’t want to drink. I know how I am. But it was so hot, so I did drink some gatorade. And then a little bit more, I mean, it was really hot, and I was thirsty!
Now it’s time to start the race, and we are queued up. Again. They countdown the seconds on a loud speaker, and we are off. All 100 of us start to jog a bit. But it’s really too hot to run. So after about 200 meters, we all start walking. Not knowing what to expect, there was some light chatter in our group, but mostly everyone was quiet. The anticipation was killing us.
Then, up ahead, we see a zombie. Then another. And another. Everywhere. Behind trees. Behind trash cans. All over the beach. And we realize that that we now have to face the zombies to continue on, while the zombies try to pull off one of our “lives” (sort of like flag football, we had two tags (lives) hanging from a belt). We all stood there, paralyzed with fear and uncertainty.
Then two kamikazes in our group took the lead and ran ahead of us .. and we all stood there and watched them, darting this way and that way, trying to get away and past all the zombies. Once they made it through, we all knew we had no choice to but to get moving, after all, another wave of 100 runners would be right behind us.
Slowly, one by one, we started off. Then all at once, we all realized that we were safer in a group, and so our 98 strong group moved towards the zombies together … until the zombies became aggressive. Oh, they were out to get us. It became everyone out for themselves. Look out for number one, me, myself, and I.
There was full body checking, there was tripping, screaming, people getting knocked over, wipe outs in the sand. Loose shoes, lives lost.
Trent made it through that area of the 5K with both of his lives. I lost one of mine, and I also lost a bit of my sanity. All of my nightmares of running in a crazed, mass crowd came true. And I drank too much gatorade pre-race. My fears of peeing my pants came true too .. but just a little bit. I quickly gained my composure, and carried on, and lucky for me there was a water obstacle next where I was able to clean up, if you know what I mean.
Now the unlucky thing about a water obstacle … is now we have soaking wet shoes, and we are running in the sand. Oh, it was pretty yucky. And I decided right then and there that I was going to be a survivor. I was going to end this race with a life. Come hell or high water, I was going to get a “Survivor” tee shirt. Size Medium, thank you very much.
So I cheated. Yep. I tucked my remaining life tag in my waistband, and I carried on.
My warrior husband also decided that he was going to be a survivor, and he dug in and did what he had to .. he jumped, hurdled, sprinted, did some moves that would have made his sons proud, and he knocked over a poor little gal when she got in his way (she wore an XXXS tee shirt). And Trent did me proud .. he finished with both of his lives!!
So did our friend Scott … although I believe that he was one of the kamikaze dudes from his wave that took off in front of everyone.