Bigfoot Scramble 5 mi. run - Standing Stone State Park

Yesterday my oldest daughter and I ran in our 2nd Tennessee State Parks Running Tour race in Hilham, TN. The excitement surrounding this day had been building in our house for the many days and weeks leading up to the event. Upon completing my final workout prior to the run, I was totally hyped up. By Friday, optimism surrounding our chances to medal at a park rumored to be home to Bigfoot - a park we had long wanted to visit - had elevated emotions to an unprecedented crescendo. The energy in the house was, in fact, so palpable that everyone was catching the fever. Chatter regarding the run was constant. The course was reviewed thoroughly and re-reviewed over and again. All possible scenarios and strategies were considered and debated, loudly at times. Then these were analyzed some more and re-hashed well into the wee hours of the morning. The coffee maker was working overtime, vainly trying to keep up with our frantic pace, until finally we were hit between the eyes with a message reminding us what was truly important this day:

Humbled by Bigfoot

Now with a new perspective, we felt so small, so inconsequential. Yet, we were free from the heavy burdens we'd been carrying, empowered for the first time to run the race for our own wellbeing, not for the fleeting glory and materialistic awards, the importance of which had grown to alarmingly high levels in our small minds. Relaxed and at peace with ourselves, we were fully prepared. Or so we thought.

The first sign of trouble came at the starting line when my daughter began complaining of a stomach ache. The second sign came about four minutes later, after a man pushing a stroller passed me on the left. That darn Bigfoot had thrown us off our game for sure! Sabotage I tell ya, pure and simple. Moments later I caught up with my daughter and soon left her behind. This was not good; after all, she's the experienced distance runner, not me. Other folks were passing me, and I was catching up with no one. But I felt good. Not even once did I tell myself I would never run again. Well, at least not more than once. Shortly after the first mile I knew I was going to make it, even as more people scooted around me.

Halfway through the second mile, the herd had thinned. Nobody was passing me anymore and, with the worst of the hills behind me, I just needed to maintain a decent pace and figure out how to get even with Bigfoot. At some point during the third mile, I realized there were a couple of other runners with whom I had been in close proximity for pretty much the entire run. To make it interesting, my new goal would be to stick with them as best I could, giving myself a chance to pass them up in the home stretch. I would have to plot my revenge against Bigfoot another time.

Heading downhill after passing the final turn around cone, I passed my daughter running uphill to the cone. My thumbs-up was not returned, so I knew her condition had likely not improved. Building speed downhill, and with the finish line now in sight just across the bridge, I passed the last of the two runners I had targeted. This would serve as my consolation prize, as my time of 43:27 would not be good enough to earn an award. A little less than four and a half minutes later my daughter arrived, greatly disappointed with her performance. I congratulated her for toughing it out, fighting through the pain and finishing the race. "Hey," I said. "We'll get 'em next time." But in the meantime, I was setting my sights on Bigfoot.

Before the race, near the finish line at Overton Lodge

Ditto

After the run everyone made their way into the Overton Lodge for a hot post-race meal provided by the Frostbite Running Club. In addition to drinks and cookies, the club offered up spaghetti with marinara sauce, meatballs, and Alfredo sauce. Warm dinner rolls rounded out the selection. What a completely unexpected treat! The meal alone was worth every penny of the entry fee. Though there was nowhere to sit inside the lodge by the time we dragged in, the sun had since come out and we were able to enjoy our meal at one of the many picnic tables nearby. Appetites satisfied, we shoehorned ourselves back inside near the fire for the awards ceremony. Though we walked away empty-handed, we really didn't. We had a great time and felt fortunate we were able to participate, visiting another state park in the process. Looking back on it, maybe Bigfoot was right all along.