ANDREA HOPKINS: Running - Not To Win - But For The Challenge And Love Of The Sport

By From the Archives

Published: June 22, 2008

The sun was still working to burn the mist off the fields as we took our places at the starting line last weekend.

The air was cool. Runners made last minute adjustments to shoelaces, clothing and iPods. Then, we were off – thundering down a two-lane country road past farms, fields and houses.

Cows mooed as we ran past. A faint smell of manure wafted on the breeze.

THOSE FIRST few miles were the easy part, before reality set in, the sun rose high in the sky, the temperature soared and muscles started to ache and protest. Somewhere around the seventh or eight mile, it dawned on me – a half-marathon is a pretty long race. This was about the time I spotted the camels in a nearby field. But I swear they weren’t a mirage. Other people saw them, too.
“The Varmint” half-marathon covers 13.1 miles of hilly terrain in Burkes Garden – an out-of-the-way farming community in Tazewell County.

The race, which got its start in 1993, takes its name from a coyote that once prowled the garden, eating sheep. The coyote met with an unfortunate end, and is now stuffed and on display at the Historic Crab Orchard Museum near Tazewell.

PERHAPS THE runners are coyotes since the trophies are furry, hand-crafted sheep. I did not go home with a sheep, although a friend scored a large one. (The smallest sheep trophies go to third place finishers in an age group; first place winners get larger ones, and overall winners get the largest ones of all.)

In all likelihood, I will never get a sheep – unless I persist in running the race until I’m the only one left in my age group; I’m just not that fast. Not that I care. I left with a sunburn, a T-shirt and a renewed sense of self-confidence. I felt empowered; I had reached a goal that had once seemed impossible.

Pardon me while I indulge in a bit of back story. I ran some in high school and college but not competitively. I continued to run in the early years of my career, and even ran a few races – mostly 5Ks (just over three miles).

Then came motherhood. I switched from running to power walking; it’s just easier to do while pushing a double stroller. And when the children got a bit older, they enjoyed taking in the sights and sounds of Bristol.

TWO YEARS ago around October, a friend casually suggested a challenge. A small group of us would train together and run the Cooper River Bridge Run, a massive 10K that draws thousands of runners to Charleston, S.C., the following spring. I agreed and started to train.

When I first started to run again, I had trouble making it to the end of my street – about a mile-and-a-half. But with effort, consistency and patience, I grew stronger as the weeks and months passed. I ran Cooper River – covering the 6.2 mile course in just over an hour.

That first goal led to other goals. Gradually, I began to run longer distances, and to work on speed – a more elusive goal for me. I ran a half-dozen 5Ks, a four-mile race and Cooper River again. I set my sights on the half-marathon; I wanted to prove that I could do it.

IN THE weeks leading up to the race, my training partner and I logged mile after mile. We ran in the heat and in the rain. We spent an awful lot of time on the trails at Steele Creek and on the Mark Vance Greenway. We dodged snakes on the path, wore out shoes and swapped stories.

Finally, the big day arrived – June 14. We were up before dawn and on the road to Burkes Garden.

The distance we covered that day was 13.1 miles. The journey began months, and many miles, earlier. There were moments of hard-to-silence doubt during the race, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I kept running, albeit slowly at times as one hill gave way to another hill. I crossed the finish line in two hours and 47 minutes.

With luck and training, I’ll be quicker next time. Once running gets in your blood, it’s hard to shake the urge to go further or to run faster. I’m already looking for my next half-marathon. Maybe one day, I’ll even win a sheep.

Andrea Hopkins is opinion editor of the Bristol Herald Courier. She may be reached at or (276) 645-2534.