Robie

There’s a half marathon here called “Race to Robie Creek”. It is grueling—8 miles up hill and then 5 miles downhill. I cannot figure out why, but people flock to this race. Okay, not only do people flock to it—I flock to it. I’m not a good runner. I am not built like a runner. I don’t win races. I rarely improve on my personal records, but for some reason I, along with thousands of other people, flock to this race. Maybe it is because we are driven by the sheer intimidation of a race that we can not fully conquer. Some people say it is the beer at summit. I don’t drink beer, so I can’t say how attractive it is, but I’m thinking that if you’re going to drink a beer, why pay $40, run 8 miles uphill, 5 miles downhill, kill your feet, legs and back, and then have to take a half hour bus ride at the end in order to get your beer? Why don’t you just run over to the convenience store? My point is that I think that “they have beer at the summit” is an extremely lame excuse and a cover for some other hidden attraction of Robie. The problem is that the “hidden attraction” has been, for me, impossible to nail down.

Basically, I think Robie is a rite of passage for anyone who lives in southern Idaho who considers themselves a “runner”. Until you have taken on Robie, you are really just someone who lives in Idaho and runs in Idaho, but after you have run Robie, then you can call yourself a runner. You know that any other runner you encounter on the streets will ask you if you have run Robie and you can proudly say that “yes, I have…and I walked the steep part and I’m proud of it!” I’m sure there are those out there who will argue that my theory is a bunch of crap, but it makes a lot more sense than the beer at the summit, right?!