The annual race 17km up Mount Chirripó this year was a wet one. Rain fell heavily two days before the event – on the event day and after. Trails turned into muddy traps and rocks were slippery and perilous. Normally I would think ‘Too bad – but those athletes are so experienced, they’ll do fine’; except that this year my daughter Liz was running. And of course when blood is involved then the weather becomes a subject of intense interest. She was alternatively pessimistic and terrified of running the race, or confident she could do as well as many of the others there, all suffering the same conditions. She had trained hard in Vancouver: up mountains and along roads, though always at sea level or a bit above – never starting at 3,000 feet and coping with thin air as well as the heat.

She was up at 5:30 a.m. to eat her granola bar and down her ginseng. Looking like the all-time athlete she set off for the start line while we followed at a snail’s pace to join the festive hundreds in the village plaza for the 7a.m. send-off. At the start line she met up with her running buddy and they and the 223 others hopped up and down nervously waiting for the speeches to end, the benedictions and the national anthem – then they were off!

As Liz disappeared round the bend we all turned to other attractions at the fiesta – it was going to be at least 3 hours before the winners showed up and Liz was going to be a bit behind the trail blazers. I had local recipe books to sell as a fundraiser for Proyecto San Gerardo, our family and guests wandered around to sample the freebies and chat with friends.

The winners started to come in just after 10 a.m. – in record time no less and the winner for the second year in a row. The excitement was palpable and together with the band and the cheerleaders everyone gave the athletes a huge welcome back. They were rubbed down, checked for vital signs and given lots of fruit and water. No Liz yet – we continued to wait.

Rain started again. Everyone ran to take cover (Ticos hate to get wet!) – we could hardly imagine what the trail was like! Runners were coming in every few minutes – solo or in groups, all supporting one another. Children ran to greet their fathers and mothers – brave mud and rain streaked athletes with smiles of gratitude for the end of the hellish race and for their families. We waited and waited – cameras in hand; towels, water, dry clothes – but no Liz.

At 1:30 p.m. she came round the bend. She looked white as a sheet but ran strong and with determination. At the finish line she looked like she would faint but revived at the sight of her finisher’s medal and the family and friends there to help her onto the massage table for a quick check up. Her legs were battered and bruised – she looked like she had run through brambles and gashed her knees on boulders though she said she only fell twice.
More runners came in after her, including the brave and determined Gerhard Krolow, who had established the veteran’s section and at 74 still licks his age group! Other women had set great records and hopefully will attract more female competitors in the future. The Cabecar racers (indigenous peoples) who had traveled days just to get to San Gerardo, looked as though they could run the mountain all over again, and certain locals did play a decent game of football in the Chirripó cup finals the next day!

But Liz had run and finished the race – she had conquered the mountain! What more can a proud mom want!

Till next year – see you there!