There is, in Japan, a somewhat unique form of cross country racing called Ekiden 駅伝. Unlike most cross country races which are set distances and run by individuals, ekiden is run as a relay race, with each team member covering a different part of the course. No parts of the course are necessarily the same length.
In the case of my town’s 駅伝, which we ran this past Sunday, we ran the length of 24 KM from the village up in the mountains, west down to the coast, and along the coast to the southernmost village. There were seven parts of the race, ranging from 1.0 K to 4.4 K segments. I ran one of the 4.3 K segments, but one that was considered the most きつい (kitsui) difficult because it was mostly uphill.
In the weeks leading up to the race, I had done my best to practice every other day, if not every day, but it was quite difficult to motivate myself when it was freezing cold outside, raining/snowing, and already getting dark outside by the time I got off work to start running. My co-workers at the city office, where I have to go to every other day to pick up my schedules and talk with my supervisor, would ask me every time I’d come in “Are you practicing? We’re counting on you! ‘Heard that you’re really fast!” They would also joke about how last year’s lose was do to my predecessor’s poor performance. Needless to say, there was pressure on me to perform. Luckily, the week right before the race, the weather all of a sudden became very spring-like, which helped me get out doors everyday to run my course along the coast to the next village.
The day of the race, everyone in my middle school, the neighboring high school, all of the fire fighters (there are a lot for some reason in my sleepy little town; I think the life of a fire-fighter, working out all day, appeals to most of my male students) and all the workers in the city office convened at Fukuregi’s community center (the village in the mountain) for the opening ceremony before driving off to the various pass-off points in the other villages. Everyone left their houses and lined up on the side of the roads to await and cheer on the racers. Once they’d pass, everyone would pile in a car and drive to the next check-point to see who would pull ahead, cheering out the car windows as they passed by the runners on the course. The mass continued to grow until everyone was at the finish, eating the free pork soup and rice balls and watching the end of the race.
When it came time for my leg of the race, I was waiting anxiously with my middle schoolers in the tiny village north of my own, nestled in a mountain valley that fed out into the city. We all ran to the beach shore and back to warm up, watching the fisher man on the rocks and enjoying the Spring like breeze. As the racers started arriving, the numbers of the approaching racers were shouted down the line of spectators until it reached us. The official regulating our leg finally made the connection: 16 was coming, so that meant I was up. I grabbed the yellow band from the racer, strung it around my back, and ran off the line with two other racers who started at about the same time as me. Cars passed alongside us, people hanging out their windows and shouting. "FIGHT ERIK! 頑張れ！Ganbare! GO! 走れ！" I saw my students, my co workers, familiar faces from town, people I see everyday, people I hadn't seen in ages, and people I had never seen before all cheering me on from their cars and from the roadside. Despite all of the pain of the uphill climb, it was a fantastic experience. I could see our rival team's runner up ahead, and did my best to try to close the gap. The high school runner behind me traded places with me several times, but I finally managed to pull ahead of him for good as I sprinted down the last hill. Down to the last 100 m, I saw most of the people I had seen 10 minutes before lined up anew at the finish line of my leg.
Track meets have always been pretty nerve-racking to me. All of the time you spend waiting for your race, getting anxious as you watch other run and warm-up can really do a number on you. The town ekiden, however, is the best type of racing environment you could ask for. Everyone you know and more line up to cheer you on, and you have a team to celebrate with afterwards! Plus, if you don't do well in the race, there is always a game of bingo to finish up the day (I won Cup Ramen in bingo).
