Only in Israel: the Runner's Installment

Last Thursday, I participated in the Beit Shean Half Marathon. This wasn't the official name of the race, but it's what everyone referred to it as, because the largest town along the course is Beit Shean. All I will remember of this (supposedly) lovely village are: 1-the only two hills of the entire course and 2-the post-race feeding frenzy at their one and only proper restaurant.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. This was my second race in Israel - the first being a 10K in Ashdod - and I found myself quite amused with several differences between US running races and those here, as well with many "only in Israel" moments. The running culture here in Israel isn't quite as "mainstream" as it is back in the US, especially in NYC. This is fun, in a lot of ways, because it brings a pretty intense energy. It also means that a 10% showing by women is huge. You'd think that this would better my chances of placing, but remember there are tons of Ethiopian immigrants here. And turns out, they're fast...

The fastest way to Beit Shean from Jerusalem is through the West Bank. So, with four of us in the car, we took off before 7 for the 1.5 hour drive. One of the passengers had lobbied for an earlier departing time, saying "there are over 1500 runners! We have to be there early!" for the 9:30 starting gun. After dozens of 5ks in NYC that pulled at least 4000 people, this comment made me giggle. The road from Jerusalem starts dropping towards the Dead Sea, before we turn north. The terrain is desert-desert-desert with a few agricultural settlements - most notably Jericho - and suddenly, it's green. This change of terrain coincides almost precisely with the border crossing, giving the differences between the Palestinian and Israeli landscapes even a more drastic appearance.

With four runners, all doing their best to hydrate, the obvious happens: nature calls. Which brings me to Israeli Experience #1: who needs a gas station when a ditch will do? Every time I've driven outside of a center of a city in this country, I have seen a car pulled over on the side of the road, with the driver doing his business in front of god and everyone. Usually this happens when the sign for the nearest gas station is well within view. We at least had the excuse that there were no gas stations for our four-man pit stop. It's a little trickier for yours truly, but mid-squat I started laughing at our sight: a car running on the side of the road, three men turned with their backs to the road and to each other, and some lady squatting, mooning the West Bank.

#2: the girl at the border-crossing knew all about the race and wished us good luck.

The race started and finished at a park near a spring-fed creek. The place was a balagan in every sense of the word. We did a creative left turn to enter an annexed parking lot. Which brings me to Israeli Experience #3: find the closest parking spot even if you stand in a line to get there. We were out of the car and on our way past the rows of cars looking for a spot 10m closer before others had even turned into the parking lot.

Israeli Experience #4 is uniquely running-related: the bib pick-up. Maybe it's because the latest races I've done are marathons and much bigger, but there was no ID check, no formal process. First, find your name on the sheet which will have your number next to it. This was not sent out before hand, so people were fighting trying to find their name. Then, go to the table according to your number, tell them what it is, get a b'hatslecha and on your way.

#5: the pre-race. Everyone knows everyone. My boyfriend ran into 3 people he knows, though didn't know they were running. The entire crowd was separated by about three hugs. Really, awesome.

#6: the start. There is a big yellow line on the road. People lined up 10 meters in front of it. The race started 10 minutes late because that was how long it took the guy on the megaphone to tell everyone: "haverei. The race will not start until everyone is in place. Move to the yellow line." Only the front row of people would attempt to move back, then have to stop. Rinse. Repeat.

#7: the start, part 2. There is no "line up according to pace." It is a big free-for-all. Israelis are good at free-for-alls. I love needing my elbows to pass the 7-min/km dudes.

#8: there was a road kill victim in the middle of the road near the start. "Eh, it's just a cat, they're everywhere, ain baiya."

#9: the one and only rule I was aware of was that bikes or escorts of any kind were strictly forbidden along the course. Did this prevent them? Of course not. But, true to Israeli fashion, when someone would accept contraband refreshment from their bike-riding spouse, they would take a swing and immediately offer the bottle to the runners in their vicinity.

#10: the groups of military units running together. At least they didn't have their guns with them.

#11: The guy sitting in the middle of the road in his running car, smoking a cigarette out his window, as we were forced to detour around him less than 500m from the finish line. Yoffi. At least I think he has a few good dents in his hood...

#12: The finish. I've never had so many people - strangers - approach me after a race, seeing how I did, wanting to compare notes. Thankfully, running with a group has taught me enough running-related Hebrew that I could manage to keep up!

#13: The Sachne! The spring-fed creek is a great temperature all year round, so everyone jumps in, in their running clothes, at the end of the race. We were 20m away from the Israeli marathon champion, who looked... normal.

#14: Beit Shean has one restaurant. It's your typical Israeli bbq restaurant: they pile the tables full of salads, pickles, chumus and laffe so that you eat till you're stuffed and then they make you order meat. Our group made reservations, so of course when we entered the restaurant, it was full. Restaurants in small towns do not understand the concept of reservation when it means turning away groups of 10. Starving, giving up hope, wouldn't you know it: the door opens, and the manager is lugging inside a huge plastic table with chairs from the outside. A little Windex and a cheap paper tablecloth, and we're elbow-deep in chumus and Goldstar. They might not understand reservations, but they understand the word achi.

Oh, and I ran pretty well too: 1:37.44, 8th woman in the <35 age group!

You see what I'm up against?

On Facebook, I'm a member of the "Anglos in Israel" group. They so nicely emailed the group with an opportunity to participate with JCorps in volunteer activities. Curious, I mosied on over to their FB page. Does anyone see anything wrong with this disclaimer?

"We are non-religious, non-denominational, and 100% free. We are open to all unmarried Jews aged 18-30."

To which denomination within the Jewish religion are they referring? Jews for Jesus??