Race #36: The Boulder Beer Mile

Date: October 31
Type: Beer Mile
Distance: Mile
Shwag: A sense of pride and accomplishment

 Two weeks after tackling one monumental feat, I took on another: The Beer Mile. For those of you who don’t know what the beer mile is, it’s four laps around a track, but you have to drink a beer before each lap. There are specific rules about the kind of beer you can drink, what happens if you throw up, etc. I’m not going to get into that here. You can visit the official beer mile website if you’re curious. (Yep, it’s a thing! http://www.beermile.com)

I was talked into this whole thing by my friend Geoff who’s been trying to get me to do crazy races with him all year, like a 5k with a llama and a 10 or 15 mile race with a donkey. I felt bad about wussing on all the livestock racing, so I told him I would do the beer mile with him. I regretted my decision pretty quickly but, I’m a woman of my word, so I did it. And I swear, it has nothing to do with the fact that he told me not to “lame out on him.” Peer pressure about drinking. I felt like a teenager again.

I was more nervous about this race than I had been about most of my 35 previous races this year. Could I drink four beers in that amount of time? How bad was it going to feel? How bad was I going to feel the next day when I had to get on a plane in the morning and fly across the country? What if I got sick? What if I got sick in front of people I didn’t know? What if I got sick ON people I didn’t know? I was filled with anxiety.

The night before, I saw a bunch of my friends at a get together and told them my fears. They offered encouragement and pumped me up about the same amount that you would pump someone up before an Ironman. I needed it though. I was crazy scared.

When the day finally came, I kept hoping a random storm would blow in, or there would be some kind of kids’ event at the track, or it would just be cancelled for some other random reason. No dice. It was a beautiful day and there was only one other person at the track when we arrived. (She left pretty quickly once she saw what was about to go down.)  

Having alcohol on school property is kind of a no-no so you want to get in and out pretty fast with a beer mile. We quickly amassed, got ourselves organized, and got the show on the road.

Because it was such a nice day, and because a beer mile is so ridiculous, there were a lot of people there to watch. People I didn’t know. People with cameras. I had instructed a few of my friends that if anyone was taking an unflattering picture of me, they needed to tackle that person and knock the phone out of their hands. But there were too many people and too many cameras. I don’t want to know how many embarrassing pictures are out there that will come back to haunt me when I run for president. It’s better not to think about it.

All in all, it was a pretty large field but, despite all the talk on Facebook, only one other woman started the race. I sort of get it – the idea of a beer mile is a scary thing. But doing anything that breaks down gender barriers is scary, and I’m disappointed that there weren’t more women out there to represent.

Since it was Halloween, most of us were wearing costumes. It sort of helped me feel a little less ridiculous about the whole thing. Sort of.

Costumed competitors 

I was dressed as a bumble bee and the only other female racing was dressed like a lady bug. Not only did we have similar costumes, we had both done the same 50k two weeks earlier. Kindred spirits, I suppose.   

The gun went off and we promptly cracked open our beers and got drinking. Drinking fast has never been my thing. Drinking crappy, fizzy beer as fast as you can? Definitely not my thing. The guys downed their beers like champs an were off around the track before I was halfway done with mine. Yet another race where I was in the back of the pack.

The drinking hurt. People who can effortlessly chug a beer make it look so much easier than it really is. I was miserable. I looked at the crowd and said, complete sincerity, “I don’t think I can do this.” The looked back at me and said “Yes you can!” and encouraged me to keep going. After a few more foamy sips, I tipped the can over my head to show that the beer was empty and I was off around the track.

The running was so much less miserable than the drinking. In fact, the running was always fine. Granted, I got a little weavy on my final lap but other than that, no problem. I think a few years of triathlon have trained me to run with a sloshy, not-so-good feeling gut.

As for the drinking, beer #1 was the hardest, and beers #2 and #3 were pretty much fine. Beer #4 was hard, but at that point I knew that I was going to do it and I also knew that I was going to do it without getting sick. That gave me the strength I needed to push through.

Looking composed on beer #2

Looking... less composed on beer #4

At least others were
struggling too

Come on, Geoff! You can do it!

Winner

Nice job, lumberjack

On the first lap, the other ultra-running insect was way ahead of me. I couldn’t believe how terrible I was doing. BUT, it wouldn’t last. Ladybug girl had definitely gone out too fast and I passed her on the second lap. And I guess ladybugs are daintier than bees because was unable to burp, which meant that she was having trouble getting rid of all the gas in her stomach and thus, she dropped out halfway through beer #3.

Lady bug, kicking my butt early on 

Like the ladybug, I had lots of moments when I wanted to quit, when I thought, “why am I doing this?” But once I was the only woman standing, I felt I owed it to womankind to finish. I had to represent. And so I did.  

As I struggled my way through beer #4, I had a feeling not unlike the feeling I had at mile #22 of my ironman. “I’m going to do this! Holy crap, I’m really going to do this!” It was an amazing feeling and I set off on my final lap with glee and delight. And a little bit of drunkenness.

The whole thing took me a bit of time, so I was feeling the alcohol by the end. The lines on the track helped me run straight but my mind was another story. My inner dialog was something like, “I’m druuuuuunnnnnkkkkk and I’m ruuuuunnnniiinnnnggggggg. Teeeeeeheeeeheeeeheeeheeee!” What can I say? I’m a happy drunk.

After 14 minutes and 44 seconds, I finally crossed the finish line. While that was pretty slow in comparison to some of the other times, I was incredibly happy with my performance. Before I started, I thought “If I can do this in under 15 minutes, that will be amazing.” And I did it! Not only did I finish in under 15 minutes, I also chicked a guy on my final lap, for a little added sweetness. 

After basking in the glory of my accomplishment for a bit, Geoff said, “Well go get your trophy.” My what?

My trophy! 

Yep, that’s right. Boulder, the town that takes all athletic things way too seriously, has a beer mile trophy onto which my name will now be officially engraved for eternity. There was an awards ceremony and everything, which was really dicey because they made me stand on top of a bucket after drinking four beers.

Doing my best to balance 

So there you have it. Despite its silliness, the Beer Mile ended up being one of my more challenging races this year. I had to undertake a challenging physical feat and also synthesize a lot of disparate skills I’ve learned at various points of my life. There was my ability to pace and run a smart race, knowing how to properly fuel pre-race, my ability to drink four beers in a short period of time AND not act like a total idiot after I was done (thanks Penn State!), and, most importantly, my ability to confront my fears and push beyond my comfort zone. That’s what forty for forty is all about.

I think I grew as a person that day. And I’m also the 2015 Boulder Beer Mile Women’s Champion! Even still, the first words out of my mouth when I was done were “never again”. But that was before I knew about the trophy.