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So I decided to get a massage last night (only $25) after the long, hard torture of Day Two.

The massage was more painful.

In Costa Rica, “massage” apparently means “Make Pathetic and Rapidly Getting Skinny White Boy Scream like a Baby” –  which I did. A local man worked me over for longer than a hour, like I were a blob of pink Play-Doh and he was trying to create, I dunno, a different version of myself. Three inches shorter. A little less muscle mass here. A pesky internal organ tossed out here. You know.

At several points during this alleged massage, Guillermo Rojas, 26, a physical therapist from Cartago, Costa Rica, used the “compression” method of jamming his thick thumb into a muscle and holding it in position for a minute. I nearly cried. It hurt like hell. But, he was right: Today, Day Three, my legs felt better. Rojas and the other three physical therapists who charge such a low fee for such a masterful service are true professionals. Every day after a run, a symphony of groans, screams and cries bellow out of the massage tent –  proof they are doing .

The day after my massage, my legs wereabout the only thing on my aching bod that wasn’t killing me. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I want to talk about roving camps.

It’s amazing how much logistics go into staging a multi-day expedition race. We have a Costa Rican nutritionist who designs all the menus, and a staff of cooks who whip out high-carb creations like tuna and beans, black beans, tortillas and beans, eggs and beans, coffee and beans. We’re in bean heaven here –  and many are in bean hell. Anyway, first thing in the morning, our food is awaiting us. Two of the three days we’ve camped we’ve had buildings to dine and hang around in (community centers in tiny villages).

There’s one physician, one nurse practitioner and a podiatrist who been have kept busy  tending to blisters and mostly other foot-related problems. There have been a couple of sprains, but nothing more serious.

“Because we’re out in the middle of nowhere, anything can happen in these races,’’ said Leslie Iverson, a nurse practitioner from Portland who is medical director of the Coastal Challenge. “We have to be prepared for anything, from simple problems to a major medical emergency like severe dehydration and heat exhaustion and major trauma.’’

Stop, Leslie. You’re scaring me.

After all, Day Four is tomorrow. And all of those things, I am told, are very possible.

Anyway, for medical aid, local ambulances also are out on the course. They provide a serious mental boost. I know if a howler monkey decides to try to suffocate me in his feces, the good folks at the local ambulance company will be there to help, shovel in hands and Oust in their cans.

Today was the first day we had time to kill. The camaraderie here is amazing. Right now, a Spanish runner, Javier, is holding an impromptu chat session with six local children in a cafeteria of a school –  our base camp today and tonight. Javier is telling the children about Spain, and they are telling him about Costa Rica. Beautiful stuff.

Funny, I didn’t realize this was a school. It’s such a small village

A local woman is selling ceviche for $3 –  some of the best I’ve ever had. Shirts and trinkets also are available for purchase. I am carrying little money. I wish I had more.

Costa Rica is such a chilled place –  in a tropical climate.

So, Day Three –  allegedly the “recovery day.” Hah hah hah hah hah! Actually, on any other given day, and with conditions cooler, this would be a very runnable leg. It was mostly rolling hills with only one very tough climb (short), though we did go through a spectacular jungle section that was incredibly beautiful, and incredibly muddy and wet. I had to walk through several streams again. At one point I heard some incredibly scary scream emitting from a jungle creature. Maybe it was Coach Charlie moaning about how long these posts are getting. I kept hobbling uphill and felt better when I reached the familiar meadowlands of cows and birds and barbed-wire fences and gentle breezes and and clouds that constantly roar by overhead.

Only about two miles into the run, I missed a turnout (along with about 15 other runners) and spent about a half hour looking around before getting back on track. But I wasn’t too bummed about the lost time. Who am I fooling? I’m just trying to survive.

Well, today was billed as the “easy” day. Was it? Sorta was, sorta wasn’t. I had stomach issues (they are gone, if you catch my drift) and I took a nasty spill on –  of all things –  a hard-packed fireroad on a slight downgrade. Tripped on a rock. Go figure.

There have been millions of other places to break several bones and fall off a cliff (the wind gusts almost blew a runner off a cliff) and I take a hard fall on a frickin’ fireroad! I fell hard but didn’t break anything. My right shoulder and butt is sore. Got a few more scrapes to add to my collection of nasty leg abrasion caused by whip-like grasslands.

So, three days down –  about 67 miles in the books. Three days to go, including tomorrow –  which promises to be the most challenging day. Now, that’s very hard to imagine, considering Day Two. That’s like saying getting shot several times is worse than getting knifed to death. Both prospects are pretty bad.

So, what do I think so far? Costa Rica is beautiful. And this run is more difficult than I imagined it would be. I should have practiced by slogging through Lake Mission Viejo and running up and down Santiago Peak in the slogging rain. Oh, and hills? Haha. Better love ’em to conquer this course.

How has this run changed me? I think, as with all huge challenges, it’s made me realize even more the strength we all have when we really are tested. Is it fun? On so many levels I have yet to discern, of course. There are sights I never will forget, and the people I’ve met are pretty much universally awesome. Many keep to themselves, separated by language barrier. But we all share that lovely bond of people who love to live life to its fullest.

OK, Dr. Phil has left the room.

Tomorrow, the dreaded Day Four, we will be running through a very hot and dry area.  Running 31 miles at this point under cloud cover on a straightaway would be hard enough. I fear Day Four like I fear Coach Charlie’s editing pen. I am drinking tons of water and am in search of a hat. The heat bothered me today, and the worst is to come.

Oh God, what am I doing here?

The heck with it. I’m going to go get a massage and forget about it.

***

Voices from the Jungle

“Ola Chi-town homeslices. So far I have run up mountains, across rivers, through muck and clay but the highlight so far has been running with a cow. That’s right an actual moo cow!   I think it trotted alongside me for about two miles until it met up with some of its cow friends. I have not only developed the ability to erect tents but I also can go days without shaving and fashion has taken a backseat to comfort! Oh and I almost forget to mention the 45 minutes of torture the Coast Ricans call a massage. That’s all I have to report for now.   Wish me much luck!!!!”
— Kristi Battalini
      
“Dear Vroni, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you! We wish you all the best for your next 30 years! We like The Coastal Challenge very much and hope that we will finish the last three stages as well as we did the first! (Ingrid, Stefan and Markus) (Comment Stefan: “Well? What’s well in the word “blister”????)”
— Markus Rossmann

“Rio, Wendy, Reina and the rest of my family and dear friends: I love you!’’
— Goldie/The Beagle/Daddy/Mr. Chimi

ADDITIONAL PHOTOS

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