ISRAEL: Racing along the Dead Sea

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The course is a runner’s dream. It starts and ends at Ein Gedi, an oasis where the Judean Desert meets the Dead Sea, and follows the gentle undulations of Highway 90 along the western shore, past palm trees, freshwater springs and Copper Age archaeological digs. The half-marathon route is out and back, turning around near Israel’s ancient Masada fortress.

A few thousand runners from Israel and abroad gather each February, when temperatures are bearable at this below-sea-level spot, for the Dead Sea Half Marathon and companion 10-kilometer race. Competing in Saturday’s 26th running of the event was a pleasant break from my work covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

It also gave me a glimpse of Israeli organization. Managing an event involving so many athletes is tricky anywhere. So much about Israel is first-world, but I wondered how the country would stack up against others where I have raced during my years as a foreign correspondent.

At first, I was impressed. It was easy to pre-register on the Internet, find a parking place at Ein Gedi and collect the packet containing my race number and an electronic chip that would record my race time. Water stops had been set up every two kilometers along the course, and the pre-race announcements in Hebrew and English were loud and clear.

Then things went awry.

The first race, the 10K, was supposed to start at 8:30 a.m. But as I joined other runners on the highway, we were puzzled to see cars and trucks coming in both directions, slowing to squeeze through the crowd. Wasn’t the race course supposed to be cleared of traffic? The starting time came and went, but no one in authority came forward to start the race or explain the delay. The bilingual announcements stopped; instead, we got Moringo, a Brazilian drum ensemble that performs at a nearby resort. The Brazilians had been sent onto the highway to keep us entertained.

As the minutes ticked by, the temperature crept into the mid-60s, uncomfortably warm for many. The later the race started, the more taxing it would be.

Eventually, organizers explained that the police were slow to close the highway. Uncommonly slow. The race started 40 minutes behind schedule, and on a confusing note. The runners had been milling about, unsure exactly where the starting line was, until a guy with a starter’s pistol and a loudspeaker appeared out of nowhere on the shoulder of the road and started counting backward from 10 in Hebrew.

Once we were off and running, things went smoothly, except for one harrowing moment: An Israeli TV helicopter flew close overhead and almost blew me and other runners off the highway. I recovered my stride and, 48 minutes and 13 seconds after I had started, a young woman was handing me an energy bar at the finish line.

OK, based on this one race, I would rate the Israelis behind the Mexicans and Italians in organizational ability, and ahead of the Russians and Argentines.

But I’ll be happy to run the race again. The breathtaking scenery alone makes any glitches worth putting up with.

— Richard Boudreaux in Ein Gedi