Sometimes in the early season I'll come up on a race that I just dread the thought of. My plan this winter was do at least three races before Shamrock- New Year's Day, Sweetheart, another 5K and then this one.
That didn't happen. I hadn't raced since New Year's Day. I almost posted here the day before the race, but I didn't want to. It would have been negative, about how I was overweight, how I hadn't been running and was going to have a slow race. What would be the point ? To set low expectations that I'd probably then meet.
Sounds like a dumb idea.
I did show up on Sunday morning at the race with a friend, Michael D'Addetta, determined to treat the race like any other, specifically like I was going to be able to go out and have a decent performance, even though I didn't believe it, not one bit.
I did a run out and up Prospect but no one was warming up there. I had not checked the website to see if they had changed the course again this year. They had. I won't complain. Last year I went into this race feeling much like I did this morning, and about 3/4 of a mile into the race I was in so much distress from going hard that I felt like I feel when I start to struggle in the water, and that never happens running. I wasn't just out of my comfort zone. I was out of the zone where I can deal with the stress of race.
So I came back, hit the head again, and then headed for the starting line. The one thing that is a pain in the ass about this race is the starting line. You walk there from Toads and the walk to the line is also the first oh 300 meters or so of the race. So as you are trying to do your strides, the masses are streaming towards the line.
The funny thing is, while this is a pain in the ass, I actually like it, because I pick my lines (and they may not be straight) and I run those lines. I've yet to run into anyone, but it certainly gets your adrenaline up.
Finally it got so congested that there was just no point to it. This race always starts a few minutes late, but finally 1900 of us were ready to go. It was very tight on the line.
Then we were off and I was racing again.
I expected it to go badly, for the stress of race pace to crush me in its unyielding fist. But it didn't. We hooked the first left and there was George Buchanan and a few other guys in front of me. I was back and forth with the ironman guy that looks like Sean Penn. I kind of locked in on him and hung with and suddenly we were running by the museum and we were at a mile. I ran that first mile in about 5:40.
It was strange. I was in control. I knew if wanted to avoid a complete meltdown, I had to control my pace and run 3 steady miles or as close as possible, given that the third mile of a 5K after a long layoff will always be a challenge.
We hit the halfway point and then started back towards the finish and I knew I was slowly loosing ground to people behind me- but slowly. I was still running with good form, there was some serious downhill coming (the race this year brining you in on much of the last mile of the New Haven Road Race course. I was slowly being passed by people, and Sean Penn had pulled away, but I was holding on and not only that, I was clearly in position to run under 18:30 when I was expecting to run over 19:00.
I was in a mix of four guys and I was probably 3rd of the four. What I had no idea about was that Charlie Hornak was right behind me and if it had been 3.4 miles, he might just have caught me.
In the end, I was thrilled. Not about running an 18:28. For me an 18:28 kinda of sucks on a flat course.
No, I was thrilled about the way I felt.
But what really made me happy was this. I drank my free Red Hook, then the free Red Hook that Michael got (he was driving), and then my Recoverite. Michael gave me a ride home and I got there and found myself locked out. So what did I do ? I ran another 45 minutes- ran hard. I didn't even feel the beer. I had a great run, and ever since, I've felt like I was ready to go. The race I thought would crush my confidence instead stoked me for the season. I can't wait now....
Showing posts with label 5k. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 5k. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Shamrock and Roll 5K
Every year I toss up a real clunker, a race I want back as soon as I finish running it- or earlier.
This was that race this year.
I hate writing about the bad races, and this wasn't a case of running a few seconds slower than I would have liked or getting beat by people that I should be getting beat by. This was what happens when all your week day running over the last month has been on the treadmill, you're five pounds overweight and you are coming off a week of one a day workouts.
Not to make excuses. I should have been ready, and I wasn't.
The race started relatively on time this year, but with a different course. I had started warming up early and considering how prepared I was for the race (not), probably went too hard. We head out from the starting line and ran a block or two farther than usually before hooking that left that takes you to the big hill.
I was keying off George Buchanan, and although he was right about where I expected, I felt like I was labouring. My stride was choppy, my arms were churning. When we turned left again I evaluated who was around me and I knew I was in trouble. Around half a mile I started to feel like I just didn't belong out there, like I feel during the swim of most tris, and I did the same thing I do then, I pushed that thought aside.
Then we were on the big hill and Charlie Hornak was pushing me, so I tried to pick it up a notch. That brought little benefit, but I was still fighting and not really sure just what was going on.
My iPod died.
Finally the big climbs were over and we started the downhill. I felt like I was picking it up a little, then there were some more turns and I was back and forth with people. It wasn't really the usual give and go, in part because I was giving and going with people that I don't usually see up close during a race.
We were screaming down the hill, like always, but then we had to hook a left.
It was kind of weird, because I'd run this race for years and the rhythm of it and the rhythm of me were both just wrong.
I had no idea where were were until we turned back onto the road that we started on. I was still off, still struggling. I got encouragement from Charlie, but the truth was I was just gassed.
I crossed the line over 18:40, unhappy with myself.
But I went and grabbed a beer, then warmed down with Charlie, who was very kind about how craptastic my running form was.
And I had gotten the wake-up call I needed.
This was that race this year.
I hate writing about the bad races, and this wasn't a case of running a few seconds slower than I would have liked or getting beat by people that I should be getting beat by. This was what happens when all your week day running over the last month has been on the treadmill, you're five pounds overweight and you are coming off a week of one a day workouts.
Not to make excuses. I should have been ready, and I wasn't.
The race started relatively on time this year, but with a different course. I had started warming up early and considering how prepared I was for the race (not), probably went too hard. We head out from the starting line and ran a block or two farther than usually before hooking that left that takes you to the big hill.
I was keying off George Buchanan, and although he was right about where I expected, I felt like I was labouring. My stride was choppy, my arms were churning. When we turned left again I evaluated who was around me and I knew I was in trouble. Around half a mile I started to feel like I just didn't belong out there, like I feel during the swim of most tris, and I did the same thing I do then, I pushed that thought aside.
Then we were on the big hill and Charlie Hornak was pushing me, so I tried to pick it up a notch. That brought little benefit, but I was still fighting and not really sure just what was going on.
My iPod died.
Finally the big climbs were over and we started the downhill. I felt like I was picking it up a little, then there were some more turns and I was back and forth with people. It wasn't really the usual give and go, in part because I was giving and going with people that I don't usually see up close during a race.
We were screaming down the hill, like always, but then we had to hook a left.
It was kind of weird, because I'd run this race for years and the rhythm of it and the rhythm of me were both just wrong.
I had no idea where were were until we turned back onto the road that we started on. I was still off, still struggling. I got encouragement from Charlie, but the truth was I was just gassed.
I crossed the line over 18:40, unhappy with myself.
But I went and grabbed a beer, then warmed down with Charlie, who was very kind about how craptastic my running form was.
And I had gotten the wake-up call I needed.
Monday, February 08, 2010
The Refugee 5K Run
Sometimes I go into a race I've never done before with no idea what I have coming, and Run for Refuges would be a great example of this.
5ks in February are not exactly my specialty. I don't think I raced in February last year.
Dick Korby and i went to the race together, getting there early enough to run the entire course for a warm-up. This was a great idea. It was also, if my concentration on spinning and light running lately can be discounted, the reason I didn't run a faster race.
Did I mention how fraking cold it was ? It was so cold (about 23 degrees) that after the race the race director told me that since it was under 25 degrees at race time I should have worn tights. Since this was John Bysiewicz (JB), I think he must know what the hell he's talking about. More on that later.
So Dick and I headed out and ran the course as a warm-up. Because we started at almost ten after nine, I was a little worried about getting the entire course in. This concern only intensified when we actually started climbing up in East Rock. Unlike Dick, I'd never run here and had not consulted the race course map. So I was surprised by how far up we ran, especially how far we ran after taking the right hand turn.
Just when I was ready to turn around and head back we actually made it to the turn-around. I got a feel for the run back- except for one short uphill section and a flat last tenth of a mile, it would be a downhill run.
I headed back, Dick and I separating and I started to think about whether to ditch the tights and lightweight cycling jacket. I wanted to be tough, but I didn't want to be so cold that it hurt my performance.
I went ahead and dressed down to bike shorts, a bike jersey and arm-warmers and I lined-up.
Then we were off. There were a lot of kids at the front, and I mean a lot of kids. Too many kids. It was pretty hard determining who all was legit and who was ready to quit, so I just started running. My goal was not to overcook the climb, based on my first run up. It was clear two of the guys were well off the front and there was five or six of us in the b mix, with another 2-3 more hangers on. We were trying to follow decent lines up the hill.
I found myself up against the side of the road, near the guardrail, and the same guy that elbowed me at Winter Wonderland made a move to pass me. He cut it too tight, cutting me off and kicking me in the knee on his back stroke.
As he pulled away I snapped 'You just have to make contact every race' but I'm sure he didn't hear me.
There was a surprising amount of back and forth as we climbed and looking back, I know that I was going too slow and saving too much.
We hit the turn-around and I felt like that was when the race was starting, for me at least. I can run downhill pretty well for a guy as short as I am because I'm willing to open up my stride. I ran by one of the guys that I'd been back and forth with and he complimented me on my pace. That was huge- it really gave me a boost at a point that I was starting to struggle. I opened it up even more, and settled in. I wasn't moving up or moving down.
I also wasn't breaking 18 minutes.
There wasn't a lot of action in that last mile. We were spread out and we stayed spread out and then it was over.
I think going out and running the course ahead of time was great, but I think I took the wrong lesson away, which was to take it easy on the way up. I left too much in the tank.
Lesson learned.
But hey- look at those feet.
5ks in February are not exactly my specialty. I don't think I raced in February last year.
Dick Korby and i went to the race together, getting there early enough to run the entire course for a warm-up. This was a great idea. It was also, if my concentration on spinning and light running lately can be discounted, the reason I didn't run a faster race.
Did I mention how fraking cold it was ? It was so cold (about 23 degrees) that after the race the race director told me that since it was under 25 degrees at race time I should have worn tights. Since this was John Bysiewicz (JB), I think he must know what the hell he's talking about. More on that later.
So Dick and I headed out and ran the course as a warm-up. Because we started at almost ten after nine, I was a little worried about getting the entire course in. This concern only intensified when we actually started climbing up in East Rock. Unlike Dick, I'd never run here and had not consulted the race course map. So I was surprised by how far up we ran, especially how far we ran after taking the right hand turn.
Just when I was ready to turn around and head back we actually made it to the turn-around. I got a feel for the run back- except for one short uphill section and a flat last tenth of a mile, it would be a downhill run.
I headed back, Dick and I separating and I started to think about whether to ditch the tights and lightweight cycling jacket. I wanted to be tough, but I didn't want to be so cold that it hurt my performance.
I went ahead and dressed down to bike shorts, a bike jersey and arm-warmers and I lined-up.
Then we were off. There were a lot of kids at the front, and I mean a lot of kids. Too many kids. It was pretty hard determining who all was legit and who was ready to quit, so I just started running. My goal was not to overcook the climb, based on my first run up. It was clear two of the guys were well off the front and there was five or six of us in the b mix, with another 2-3 more hangers on. We were trying to follow decent lines up the hill.
I found myself up against the side of the road, near the guardrail, and the same guy that elbowed me at Winter Wonderland made a move to pass me. He cut it too tight, cutting me off and kicking me in the knee on his back stroke.
As he pulled away I snapped 'You just have to make contact every race' but I'm sure he didn't hear me.
There was a surprising amount of back and forth as we climbed and looking back, I know that I was going too slow and saving too much.
We hit the turn-around and I felt like that was when the race was starting, for me at least. I can run downhill pretty well for a guy as short as I am because I'm willing to open up my stride. I ran by one of the guys that I'd been back and forth with and he complimented me on my pace. That was huge- it really gave me a boost at a point that I was starting to struggle. I opened it up even more, and settled in. I wasn't moving up or moving down.
I also wasn't breaking 18 minutes.
There wasn't a lot of action in that last mile. We were spread out and we stayed spread out and then it was over.
I think going out and running the course ahead of time was great, but I think I took the wrong lesson away, which was to take it easy on the way up. I left too much in the tank.
Lesson learned.
But hey- look at those feet.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Running 5Ks
Running 5ks is not easy.
It makes me wonder exactly why I want to run another one. As of tomorrow, I'll have raced 5 times since Ironman Arizona, a 4 mile cross country race, a 5 miler, and 3 5ks.
5ks are kind of like doing time trial workouts on the trainer, or well, anything I do in the pool, which is to say that when I finish one, I'm pretty well done. So it might be better to say that what I'm really looking forward to is tomorrow's 5K being over with, at which time I can concentrate on getting ready for our annual Super Bowl party.
It makes me wonder exactly why I want to run another one. As of tomorrow, I'll have raced 5 times since Ironman Arizona, a 4 mile cross country race, a 5 miler, and 3 5ks.
5ks are kind of like doing time trial workouts on the trainer, or well, anything I do in the pool, which is to say that when I finish one, I'm pretty well done. So it might be better to say that what I'm really looking forward to is tomorrow's 5K being over with, at which time I can concentrate on getting ready for our annual Super Bowl party.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Frosty 5k
The first of the year has also become a traditional day for me to race.
Last year I ran the Frosty 5K in Guilford on a miserably cold day, after taking a couple of weeks off.
This year I ran the Frosty 5K on a much nicer day- high 30s and humid. I was coming off having rested since basically Christopher Martins. Eric had told me to take some down time and I'd limited myself to a light spin every day except for a once a week long run with Michael D'Addetta and Dropping the Hammer with Margit (Spinervals) the day after Christmas.
I felt pretty much like I usually do on January 1st- overweight, vaguely out of shape. However, instead of a mild hangover, I'd not slept the night before. We had guests over for New Years Eve and I'd made some evil coffee that was about 150% normal strength. I'd drank two cups and I slept less than an hour total.
Because it was warmer I was determined to wear just bike shorts and a singlet, plus gloves and a winter hat. Maybe it was just because I'd shaved my arms and legs for the first time in three weeks, and that made me feel, and it's very silly, like an athlete again.
I ran half a mile and then did a bunch of strides. because of the lack of sleep I wasn't expecting my A effort. Between last year's race winner, the high school kids, and John Tolbert, I was hoping just to run fast enough to not look like a complete idiot wearing a tri-kit to run a 5K on January 1st. I can tell you I was the only one out there.
The race is flat. THere's one bridge over the train tracks that you have to cross, and that's the only hill on the course, although it's a decent one and you have to climb it both ways.
We started on verbal commands and headed for the first intersection, running down the back side of the green and hanging a right, then a left and down towards the wharf.
Like most 5ks, initially, there were an awful lot of people around me, but the crowd thinned out pretty quickly. I found myself in 9th place, right behind John Tolbert. I kind of expected that he'd run away from me.
That didn't happen. We went down the road, up and over the bridge and towards the turn around at the wharf. He and I were right at 5:40 or something at a mile, and pretty soon after we hit the turn. JT took the turn easy and so did I. Neither of us was taking a spill early in the race.
We were right on each other through 2 miles at 11:38 or whatever, and then finally, JT started to pull away by the fair grounds, a little at first but enough to get separation.
Still, staying with him for two miles was a surprise for me. I reached a little out of my comfort zone to stay with him as long as I did, but the reward was catching a couple of people and having an outside shot at breaking 18:00 for the second straight race.
That didn't happen. I saw when I turned the corner and was back at the green that I was at 17:40 with about a tenth of a mile to go and I dug a little, but I neither caught JT, who beat me by seven seconds, or broke 18:00- I ran an 18:10.
But for a January 1st race, on little training and no sleep- I'll definitely take it.
Last year I ran the Frosty 5K in Guilford on a miserably cold day, after taking a couple of weeks off.
This year I ran the Frosty 5K on a much nicer day- high 30s and humid. I was coming off having rested since basically Christopher Martins. Eric had told me to take some down time and I'd limited myself to a light spin every day except for a once a week long run with Michael D'Addetta and Dropping the Hammer with Margit (Spinervals) the day after Christmas.
I felt pretty much like I usually do on January 1st- overweight, vaguely out of shape. However, instead of a mild hangover, I'd not slept the night before. We had guests over for New Years Eve and I'd made some evil coffee that was about 150% normal strength. I'd drank two cups and I slept less than an hour total.
Because it was warmer I was determined to wear just bike shorts and a singlet, plus gloves and a winter hat. Maybe it was just because I'd shaved my arms and legs for the first time in three weeks, and that made me feel, and it's very silly, like an athlete again.
I ran half a mile and then did a bunch of strides. because of the lack of sleep I wasn't expecting my A effort. Between last year's race winner, the high school kids, and John Tolbert, I was hoping just to run fast enough to not look like a complete idiot wearing a tri-kit to run a 5K on January 1st. I can tell you I was the only one out there.
The race is flat. THere's one bridge over the train tracks that you have to cross, and that's the only hill on the course, although it's a decent one and you have to climb it both ways.
We started on verbal commands and headed for the first intersection, running down the back side of the green and hanging a right, then a left and down towards the wharf.
Like most 5ks, initially, there were an awful lot of people around me, but the crowd thinned out pretty quickly. I found myself in 9th place, right behind John Tolbert. I kind of expected that he'd run away from me.
That didn't happen. We went down the road, up and over the bridge and towards the turn around at the wharf. He and I were right at 5:40 or something at a mile, and pretty soon after we hit the turn. JT took the turn easy and so did I. Neither of us was taking a spill early in the race.
We were right on each other through 2 miles at 11:38 or whatever, and then finally, JT started to pull away by the fair grounds, a little at first but enough to get separation.
Still, staying with him for two miles was a surprise for me. I reached a little out of my comfort zone to stay with him as long as I did, but the reward was catching a couple of people and having an outside shot at breaking 18:00 for the second straight race.
That didn't happen. I saw when I turned the corner and was back at the green that I was at 17:40 with about a tenth of a mile to go and I dug a little, but I neither caught JT, who beat me by seven seconds, or broke 18:00- I ran an 18:10.
But for a January 1st race, on little training and no sleep- I'll definitely take it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Living the Easy Life
Two Saturdays ago, I was living the easy life. I went out to Clinton in the morning, ran a ten minute warm-up, a 5K, a ten minute warm-down and I was done for the day. Wow ! I was done at 10AM, and it was an afternoon of beer, snacks and friends.
No four hour ride and run, no long run run, no anything. Just a quick race and hanging out.
That was not the case this last Saturday.
I ran for 2 hours and 15 minutes and boy, did I feel like I'd earned something when I was done. Maybe it was just the 90 degree heat. Maybe it was that I was redeeming myself as a lousy two hour ride the night before.
But as I was running I thought about the difference between the two ways of spending Saturday morning. The 5K was kind of the 'old' me. Get up, drive (sometimes ridiculously far away), run a race, then drive home. The drive was usually way longer than the time spent running.
Don't get me wrong. 5ks are fine, I still run them, and I'm not knocking them.
But at the end of the day I guess I'd rather knock out a two-hour and fifteen minute run. There's time to think, music to listen to. Highs and lows to work through, all towards a goal that just starts to feel attainable in those longer moments. So keep those long runs coming Coach, because I'm ready for them.
No four hour ride and run, no long run run, no anything. Just a quick race and hanging out.
That was not the case this last Saturday.
I ran for 2 hours and 15 minutes and boy, did I feel like I'd earned something when I was done. Maybe it was just the 90 degree heat. Maybe it was that I was redeeming myself as a lousy two hour ride the night before.
But as I was running I thought about the difference between the two ways of spending Saturday morning. The 5K was kind of the 'old' me. Get up, drive (sometimes ridiculously far away), run a race, then drive home. The drive was usually way longer than the time spent running.
Don't get me wrong. 5ks are fine, I still run them, and I'm not knocking them.
But at the end of the day I guess I'd rather knock out a two-hour and fifteen minute run. There's time to think, music to listen to. Highs and lows to work through, all towards a goal that just starts to feel attainable in those longer moments. So keep those long runs coming Coach, because I'm ready for them.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Liberty Bank (Clinton Bluefish) 5k
I ran a 17:52 today on a hot and humid morning after a evening swim meet and a 40 mile ride yesterday.
It was not exactly what I'd been hoping for. I was coming off a race at Niantic in which, despite being disappointed at not catching the guys right in front of me, I'd felt really good. I was pretty sure that I was going to have a good 5k, especially after a 40 minute run in the sweltering heat on Tuesday.
But Wednesday night I developed a tickle in my throat and pretty soon I had a dam-break style flow of nasal and post-nasal drip. I finally gave in before the swim meet yesterday and took an antihistamine, and another one this morning. As a result, I was pretty dehydrated from my bike ride yesterday, probably more than I realised.
I got up this morning and while I definitely felt better, especially considering the swim meet, I knew I wasn't 100% either. But I had a friend driving in from Albany who was going to meet me at the race and Charlie Hornak and Robert 'Twins' Bove were also going to be there, and I was pre-registered, so there was nothing for it.
I got there a little late but just in time to warm up with Charlie. I'd been thinking on the bus ride from the parking area to the race start about putting how I felt aside and just running, reminding myself that it was a short race and that general fitness and just plain orneriness would probably see me through. We had a good warm-up, and it was such a nice hot, muggy day that everything felt OK. I didn't have any punch though.
I did my warmups and then lined up, and for the second 5K in a row, after I lined up, someone stepped onto the line in front of me. A big tall guy that seemed to be all elbows, or rather that was what I had in my face.Granted, this guy would end up being the second finisher, but I cannot for the life of me understand what he was thinking. When I get on the line, I always step into a hole between people or ask for room. He just stood in front of my like I wasn't there and I had to turn sidewise to get a foot on the line- the middle of his shoe was resting on the tape, half his foot on the race course. Oh well.
The guy starting the race went through a somewhat unorthodox explanation of how he was going to start the race. He also seemed to expect us to reply 'yes' when he asked if we were ready.
The it was under way, and like last year, I was quickly under siege, engulfed by high school kids and college guys. I was running pretty hard but it certainly seemed like I was in trouble.
We made it to the first hill at the turn off the main road the race starts on and I began to weed my way up through the younger but weaker runners. But I also realised something going up the hill- my legs were dead. I'd only ridden forty miles yesterday, but 20 of them had been at time trial pace and that's something I take seriously, but still... I never think about my legs during a short race. The problem was that I was dehydrated from the congestion and the antihistamine and that had prevented me from having my usual recovery.
Then we went through a flat section and there was another decent riser- a hill, not too long. There was a guy with running shorts, no shirt, and a twenty-year old helmet riding in amongst the runners and as I went to take the tangent up the hill, he was on the wrong side of the road, and in my way. I had to stop, cut, and run around him while I was on the hill.
The strangest things happen to me during races, although this was a lot milder than the time the motorcycle cop ran me off the road.
I hit a mile at 5:38 and knew I probably only had one good mile left in me.
After that it was really just about hanging on. The course rolls a bit, and there was a water station where I grabbed two cups of water and did my best to douse myself. There was a group of a few guys in front of me, but not much I could do seemed to close the gap, and behind me I couldn't hear anyone. I was just waiting for the turn somewhere around 2 miles, because I knew once I hit the turn, I'd be running downhill and could let momentum compensate for my dry mouth, tired legs, and still stuffed nose.
I hit the turn and cranked down the hill passed two miles, and started kind of just hanging on.
In truth, the heat and humidity, although conditions I race well in, were probably just getting to me. I'd gone through two miles at a 5:45 pace.
The next landmark was the underpass, after which there was one final turn. I was waiting until the underpass to 'turn it on'. I went through, hit the turn and-
There was no on. One runner went by me. I was still 2-3 seconds behind the guy in front of me and he also was passed. We just kept going. Except for the one guy moving up, everyone was running the same speed, all just out of reach of each other. It went on this way for half a mile, the finish line seemingly a long way away from that last turn.
When I finally saw the clock it was at around 17:40 and I knew I was breaking 18:00 and I tried to find an extra half-gear to catch the guy in front of me, but it just wasn't there.
Still, I ran a 17:50 last year and I ran a 17:52 this year. I got beat by a very large contingent of under-20s (6), but I still was 12th out of almost 450 people. I shouldn't complain.
A big shout out to Charlie Hornak and Rob Bove for also running (Bove broke 30:00) and thanks for driving down, Darren !
It was not exactly what I'd been hoping for. I was coming off a race at Niantic in which, despite being disappointed at not catching the guys right in front of me, I'd felt really good. I was pretty sure that I was going to have a good 5k, especially after a 40 minute run in the sweltering heat on Tuesday.
But Wednesday night I developed a tickle in my throat and pretty soon I had a dam-break style flow of nasal and post-nasal drip. I finally gave in before the swim meet yesterday and took an antihistamine, and another one this morning. As a result, I was pretty dehydrated from my bike ride yesterday, probably more than I realised.
I got up this morning and while I definitely felt better, especially considering the swim meet, I knew I wasn't 100% either. But I had a friend driving in from Albany who was going to meet me at the race and Charlie Hornak and Robert 'Twins' Bove were also going to be there, and I was pre-registered, so there was nothing for it.
I got there a little late but just in time to warm up with Charlie. I'd been thinking on the bus ride from the parking area to the race start about putting how I felt aside and just running, reminding myself that it was a short race and that general fitness and just plain orneriness would probably see me through. We had a good warm-up, and it was such a nice hot, muggy day that everything felt OK. I didn't have any punch though.
I did my warmups and then lined up, and for the second 5K in a row, after I lined up, someone stepped onto the line in front of me. A big tall guy that seemed to be all elbows, or rather that was what I had in my face.Granted, this guy would end up being the second finisher, but I cannot for the life of me understand what he was thinking. When I get on the line, I always step into a hole between people or ask for room. He just stood in front of my like I wasn't there and I had to turn sidewise to get a foot on the line- the middle of his shoe was resting on the tape, half his foot on the race course. Oh well.
The guy starting the race went through a somewhat unorthodox explanation of how he was going to start the race. He also seemed to expect us to reply 'yes' when he asked if we were ready.
The it was under way, and like last year, I was quickly under siege, engulfed by high school kids and college guys. I was running pretty hard but it certainly seemed like I was in trouble.
We made it to the first hill at the turn off the main road the race starts on and I began to weed my way up through the younger but weaker runners. But I also realised something going up the hill- my legs were dead. I'd only ridden forty miles yesterday, but 20 of them had been at time trial pace and that's something I take seriously, but still... I never think about my legs during a short race. The problem was that I was dehydrated from the congestion and the antihistamine and that had prevented me from having my usual recovery.
Then we went through a flat section and there was another decent riser- a hill, not too long. There was a guy with running shorts, no shirt, and a twenty-year old helmet riding in amongst the runners and as I went to take the tangent up the hill, he was on the wrong side of the road, and in my way. I had to stop, cut, and run around him while I was on the hill.
The strangest things happen to me during races, although this was a lot milder than the time the motorcycle cop ran me off the road.
I hit a mile at 5:38 and knew I probably only had one good mile left in me.
After that it was really just about hanging on. The course rolls a bit, and there was a water station where I grabbed two cups of water and did my best to douse myself. There was a group of a few guys in front of me, but not much I could do seemed to close the gap, and behind me I couldn't hear anyone. I was just waiting for the turn somewhere around 2 miles, because I knew once I hit the turn, I'd be running downhill and could let momentum compensate for my dry mouth, tired legs, and still stuffed nose.
I hit the turn and cranked down the hill passed two miles, and started kind of just hanging on.
In truth, the heat and humidity, although conditions I race well in, were probably just getting to me. I'd gone through two miles at a 5:45 pace.
The next landmark was the underpass, after which there was one final turn. I was waiting until the underpass to 'turn it on'. I went through, hit the turn and-
There was no on. One runner went by me. I was still 2-3 seconds behind the guy in front of me and he also was passed. We just kept going. Except for the one guy moving up, everyone was running the same speed, all just out of reach of each other. It went on this way for half a mile, the finish line seemingly a long way away from that last turn.
When I finally saw the clock it was at around 17:40 and I knew I was breaking 18:00 and I tried to find an extra half-gear to catch the guy in front of me, but it just wasn't there.
Still, I ran a 17:50 last year and I ran a 17:52 this year. I got beat by a very large contingent of under-20s (6), but I still was 12th out of almost 450 people. I shouldn't complain.
A big shout out to Charlie Hornak and Rob Bove for also running (Bove broke 30:00) and thanks for driving down, Darren !
Friday, July 17, 2009
Independence Day 5000
Filed under: Better late than never.
There was a time, when I started racing, that 5Ks were my bread and butter distance. I was in my mid-30s, ran 70 miles a week, ran twice a day. I'd run anything, but 5ks were my race of choice. I could go, run a mile warm-up, run the race, do a half mile warm down and go home.
Hard to image. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Absolutely not. There are moments (when I'm in the Sound and the water is so rough I can't see the buoy 20 feet in front of me) I wish maybe I was still that guy. 5Ks are affordable, the training for them is reasonable, the equipment is affordable...
Those moments always pass. I can't hear Clocks without wanting to be in water of Mirror Lake at 6:59 AM. Or Beautiful Day. I may be kidding myself about being a triathlete the same way I was kidding myself back then about being a serious runner- I was never willing to do the speed work, as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, I showed up early, grabbed my registration stuff, and went out and ran the course for a warm-up at 7:30 pace. Is that a warm-up pace for me, looking to run about 5:45 ? Who knows ? (Eric knows) Who cares ? I wanted to run the course twice and know I'm a lazy bastard and that after 'giving everything I had (cough cough, eye-roll)' I would wimp out on the warm-down after a mile. Also, Margit's workout would start when my finished, so I needed to run and get home, epecially because we had a party and dinner lined up. And even 10K is barely a workout...
I love this course. Margit and I have both won races on this course (although not this race) and I had my best 5K in several years on the course last year. I spent the last 15 minutes before the race lining up a perfect straight line run through the start, which is uphill and winding. I was all set.
Then about a minute before the race this woman in basic running clothes, training shoes, kind of, well, solid for an top runner, and her boyfriend, who was clearly just well, not a top runner, lineup right in front of me and the guys next to me.
I didn't want to say anything. For all I knew she was some hotshot runner (her boyfriend, not so much).
We started. She totally blocked me. It was insane. The start is very tight and once you are packed in, you really have nowhere to go. She had me absolutely pinned behind her and her boyfriend. It was just like one 3000 I ran in high school where I got boxed in by the other team. Experience told me to bite the bullet, take a few hesitation steps, and get the frak around her and her boyfriend, who was already fading.
I was not all happy thoughts because I then had to work on the hill to return to contact with the people I should have been in contact with. If I hadn't been with Charlie Hornak after the race when I did see her, I might have made a regrettable comment to her, like I did during the race at Griskus to someone.
The race gets off to a fast start. Cheryl Anderson, the first woman and a Branford resident, was right in my general area. I knew as we took the first two turns and headed up towards the seawall that I was not quite at last year's pace, but there were a lot of people around me and I worked up the hill to pass some of them. Then it's mostly downhill after the turn at the top of the hill to the mile mark.
I was on pace to run 17:50 or so. I went through the mile mark and there was a lot of backside pressure but I was trying to run my own race. Cheryl passed me in here I think and decided against battling anymore. I'd try to stay close, but I don't get points for my team- it was a USATF-CT race- for beating unattached (or attached) women. Just open and masters men.
I was a little tired. I'd ridden 60 miles the day before at an aggressive pace because, well, I'm a triathlete. And stupid. Don't forget stupid. I was coming back to the best 5K I'd run in years, a state championship, and running on tired legs.
I could still see George Buchanan, but he was like a mirage wrapped in the pain of my slowness.
We climbed the hill, the course's big hill, and then hit more downhill as we wrapped around a neighbourhood. I took a cup of water at the water stop and poured it over my head, because that's what I do.
I battled back and forth with a couple of runners, wrapped back around towards the main road, remembering from my warm-up that the perceived uphill basically is non-existent.
Then it was downhill again and I was on fumes as we turned the corner and ran towards the back-door entrance to Foran High School. As we made that last turn, I was passed or last contact with three runners, which was hard to take- two would finish just a second ahead of me when I made one last, late- just too late surge.
But when I saw the clock I knew I was breaking 18 for just the second time in the last two years, and although it was 18 seconds slower than last year, I guess I'll take it.
I'm a triathlete after all. Why am I running 5ks anyway ?
Oh yeah, to break 17:30.
Damn!
I had a nice conversation after the race with Keith 'Newton' Guinta, then warmed down with Charlie.
Glad I went ? Sure. Happy with how I ran ?
Of course not...
There was a time, when I started racing, that 5Ks were my bread and butter distance. I was in my mid-30s, ran 70 miles a week, ran twice a day. I'd run anything, but 5ks were my race of choice. I could go, run a mile warm-up, run the race, do a half mile warm down and go home.
Hard to image. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Absolutely not. There are moments (when I'm in the Sound and the water is so rough I can't see the buoy 20 feet in front of me) I wish maybe I was still that guy. 5Ks are affordable, the training for them is reasonable, the equipment is affordable...
Those moments always pass. I can't hear Clocks without wanting to be in water of Mirror Lake at 6:59 AM. Or Beautiful Day. I may be kidding myself about being a triathlete the same way I was kidding myself back then about being a serious runner- I was never willing to do the speed work, as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, I showed up early, grabbed my registration stuff, and went out and ran the course for a warm-up at 7:30 pace. Is that a warm-up pace for me, looking to run about 5:45 ? Who knows ? (Eric knows) Who cares ? I wanted to run the course twice and know I'm a lazy bastard and that after 'giving everything I had (cough cough, eye-roll)' I would wimp out on the warm-down after a mile. Also, Margit's workout would start when my finished, so I needed to run and get home, epecially because we had a party and dinner lined up. And even 10K is barely a workout...
I love this course. Margit and I have both won races on this course (although not this race) and I had my best 5K in several years on the course last year. I spent the last 15 minutes before the race lining up a perfect straight line run through the start, which is uphill and winding. I was all set.
Then about a minute before the race this woman in basic running clothes, training shoes, kind of, well, solid for an top runner, and her boyfriend, who was clearly just well, not a top runner, lineup right in front of me and the guys next to me.
I didn't want to say anything. For all I knew she was some hotshot runner (her boyfriend, not so much).
We started. She totally blocked me. It was insane. The start is very tight and once you are packed in, you really have nowhere to go. She had me absolutely pinned behind her and her boyfriend. It was just like one 3000 I ran in high school where I got boxed in by the other team. Experience told me to bite the bullet, take a few hesitation steps, and get the frak around her and her boyfriend, who was already fading.
I was not all happy thoughts because I then had to work on the hill to return to contact with the people I should have been in contact with. If I hadn't been with Charlie Hornak after the race when I did see her, I might have made a regrettable comment to her, like I did during the race at Griskus to someone.
The race gets off to a fast start. Cheryl Anderson, the first woman and a Branford resident, was right in my general area. I knew as we took the first two turns and headed up towards the seawall that I was not quite at last year's pace, but there were a lot of people around me and I worked up the hill to pass some of them. Then it's mostly downhill after the turn at the top of the hill to the mile mark.
I was on pace to run 17:50 or so. I went through the mile mark and there was a lot of backside pressure but I was trying to run my own race. Cheryl passed me in here I think and decided against battling anymore. I'd try to stay close, but I don't get points for my team- it was a USATF-CT race- for beating unattached (or attached) women. Just open and masters men.
I was a little tired. I'd ridden 60 miles the day before at an aggressive pace because, well, I'm a triathlete. And stupid. Don't forget stupid. I was coming back to the best 5K I'd run in years, a state championship, and running on tired legs.
I could still see George Buchanan, but he was like a mirage wrapped in the pain of my slowness.
We climbed the hill, the course's big hill, and then hit more downhill as we wrapped around a neighbourhood. I took a cup of water at the water stop and poured it over my head, because that's what I do.
I battled back and forth with a couple of runners, wrapped back around towards the main road, remembering from my warm-up that the perceived uphill basically is non-existent.
Then it was downhill again and I was on fumes as we turned the corner and ran towards the back-door entrance to Foran High School. As we made that last turn, I was passed or last contact with three runners, which was hard to take- two would finish just a second ahead of me when I made one last, late- just too late surge.
But when I saw the clock I knew I was breaking 18 for just the second time in the last two years, and although it was 18 seconds slower than last year, I guess I'll take it.
I'm a triathlete after all. Why am I running 5ks anyway ?
Oh yeah, to break 17:30.
Damn!
I had a nice conversation after the race with Keith 'Newton' Guinta, then warmed down with Charlie.
Glad I went ? Sure. Happy with how I ran ?
Of course not...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Grading the Lilac 5K (Rochester)
Race Importance (to my season)- C
The grade here would be a B if it had been the 10K. 800 people or not, the 5K is the ugly step-child of the Lilac Festival.
Race Course- A-
This was a great course. Closed to traffic, easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. Theme here with Rochester races ? It's a fast course, with a long opening sloping downhill, about 5 or six turns total and a nice uphill in the last 3/4 miles or so. Very fair course.
Race Organization- A-
Very well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing. Lots of volunteers and spectators. Food was a little pedestrian and they only went one deep in the age groups, which is kind of weak in an 800 person race and totally at odds with the 10K, where they give awards to the top 5% or something (three minimum).
My performance- B
I ran a pretty good race on tired legs, but I really blew the strategy in the last 4/10th of a mile and cost myself the age group win. Bad me.
The grade here would be a B if it had been the 10K. 800 people or not, the 5K is the ugly step-child of the Lilac Festival.
Race Course- A-
This was a great course. Closed to traffic, easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. Theme here with Rochester races ? It's a fast course, with a long opening sloping downhill, about 5 or six turns total and a nice uphill in the last 3/4 miles or so. Very fair course.
Race Organization- A-
Very well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing. Lots of volunteers and spectators. Food was a little pedestrian and they only went one deep in the age groups, which is kind of weak in an 800 person race and totally at odds with the 10K, where they give awards to the top 5% or something (three minimum).
My performance- B
I ran a pretty good race on tired legs, but I really blew the strategy in the last 4/10th of a mile and cost myself the age group win. Bad me.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Lilac 5k
For the first time since last year, I found myself geared up for a double- the day after the formula one duathlon I was back, running the 5K at the Lilac, which is just a warm-up for the 10K.
I was not tired. Yes, we'd spent what seemed like the entire day after the race at the festival, at the pool in the hotel, and at the Play Museum (yes Virginia, there is a museum of play, and it's in Rochester). And yes, we got to the race late- it was 7:30 by the time I was registered and the race was at 8:00 am.
Still, I got in plenty of strides for my warm-up and was ready to go on what was a cold morning. It had been in the 70s and humid for the duathlon. It was now in the upper 40s. I lined up right in the front and waited for the gun.
That's right, we had a gun start- been a while if you don't count the cannon at the Ironman.
The race uses the first mile of the 10k course. This is pretty much a downhill mile, fast and straight, and spend the whole time running hard and and wondering when you are going to pay for the ease of the start.
One guy blew it up, kind of like the duathlon, then there was an A chase group and a B chase group. I was sort of in that. One of the other guys from the duathlon was there, Matt Kellman. He'd finished 4th, and outrun me on all three runs. We were back and forth in that first mile and went through at 5:34 and 5:36. Almost immediately after we turned a corner and started through a neighbourhood with nice wide streets. We were in a group of five people and I was being disciplined and sticking with the group.
It's always hard to run with a group. For me, it tends to feel easier when I'm with the group, and I worry that means that I'm not working hard enough, that I'm laying off, when in truth I'm appropriately moderating my effort so I can stay in the mix and have the chance to beat the guys I'm running with. We continued to all work with each other and three turns later we were back on that first mile, and paying for it because we were going uphill and into the wind.
I'd moved to the front of the group, away from the guy in my age group and the kid in the hard-soled track flats. With about 4/10th of a mile, I wanted to run away from everyone because I didn't want to get caught in a sprint with 4-5 unknowns. I was trying to establish dominance before the finish line.
This is almost always a mistake, like the guy that tries a breakaway sprint at 800 meters from the line in a stage race. I probably knew it was wrong when I did it.
I failed. The guy I really wanted to beat passed me with about 300 yards left and then it was all over. He told me after the race he just rode one of the kids in, or something like that, and he was right to do it too.
Still, he put just seven seconds into me, about what he outran me for a single mile the day before.
Then again, for the 5K they went one deep in 5 year age groups (the 10K is the big race), and I really wanted to bring home that medal. I was 14th out of about 850 people and was leaving empty handed. Oh wait, chocolate chip cookies...
Seven seconds. That's pretty disappointing.
I'll just have to go back next year and get it right.
I was not tired. Yes, we'd spent what seemed like the entire day after the race at the festival, at the pool in the hotel, and at the Play Museum (yes Virginia, there is a museum of play, and it's in Rochester). And yes, we got to the race late- it was 7:30 by the time I was registered and the race was at 8:00 am.
Still, I got in plenty of strides for my warm-up and was ready to go on what was a cold morning. It had been in the 70s and humid for the duathlon. It was now in the upper 40s. I lined up right in the front and waited for the gun.
That's right, we had a gun start- been a while if you don't count the cannon at the Ironman.
The race uses the first mile of the 10k course. This is pretty much a downhill mile, fast and straight, and spend the whole time running hard and and wondering when you are going to pay for the ease of the start.
One guy blew it up, kind of like the duathlon, then there was an A chase group and a B chase group. I was sort of in that. One of the other guys from the duathlon was there, Matt Kellman. He'd finished 4th, and outrun me on all three runs. We were back and forth in that first mile and went through at 5:34 and 5:36. Almost immediately after we turned a corner and started through a neighbourhood with nice wide streets. We were in a group of five people and I was being disciplined and sticking with the group.
It's always hard to run with a group. For me, it tends to feel easier when I'm with the group, and I worry that means that I'm not working hard enough, that I'm laying off, when in truth I'm appropriately moderating my effort so I can stay in the mix and have the chance to beat the guys I'm running with. We continued to all work with each other and three turns later we were back on that first mile, and paying for it because we were going uphill and into the wind.
I'd moved to the front of the group, away from the guy in my age group and the kid in the hard-soled track flats. With about 4/10th of a mile, I wanted to run away from everyone because I didn't want to get caught in a sprint with 4-5 unknowns. I was trying to establish dominance before the finish line.
This is almost always a mistake, like the guy that tries a breakaway sprint at 800 meters from the line in a stage race. I probably knew it was wrong when I did it.
I failed. The guy I really wanted to beat passed me with about 300 yards left and then it was all over. He told me after the race he just rode one of the kids in, or something like that, and he was right to do it too.
Still, he put just seven seconds into me, about what he outran me for a single mile the day before.
Then again, for the 5K they went one deep in 5 year age groups (the 10K is the big race), and I really wanted to bring home that medal. I was 14th out of about 850 people and was leaving empty handed. Oh wait, chocolate chip cookies...
Seven seconds. That's pretty disappointing.
I'll just have to go back next year and get it right.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Frosty 5K
Results can be found here: 2009 Frosty 5k
I got distracted while writing this by the Nightmare at 20,000 Feet episode of the Twilight Zone. That's one of two episodes featuring the man many of you may now know as Denny Crane, but watching this, what you see is basically the exact same acting Shatner brought to Star Trek. Which is there in Boston Legal, but you have to search a bit sometimes.
Anyway, it was cold and wind this morning and that plays into one of the few theories of racing I have. They are- you should know what you are going to wear, you should know what you are going to eat, and you should only be flexible if you are really wrong. That's because I think when you start hemming and hawing over what to wear (or eat), you open the door on regrets that will eat at you no matter what decision you make and you waste warm-up time thinking about something besides warming-up.
I went to the race with Steve Surprise, one of my teammates from Force 5. It was cold.
I was wearing two layers, heavy socks and racing flats. Racing flats and heavy socks do not go and my toes were numb from some combination of the cold and the circulatory deficiencies.
I was having trouble warming up. There was a lot of congestion at the starting line, and people were running around the green. Half the street was still under snow, the wind was blowing.
I knew somewhere during the race I'd be overheated, but so what ?
I talked to Chris Dickerson, JB (John Bysiewicz) and then did my strides. I stopped once to mention to Chris that he looked like he was feeling good and he said he did. They were slow. I felt like my tights were holding me back...
Finally, the race started. About 4 strides into the race, a guy off to my right- a big guy in tights and a bright green running jacket, pulled a hamstring. I watched him hop a stride or two and then turned my attention to my own sorry start. I was pulling hard to the right, straight at the turn, running on the snow because it was the shortest path but with a lot of bodies around me, a lot of young kids.
I got my feet clipped in the turn, but I was able to keep my feet as we turned the corner, and then headed past pages and towards the next turn. There was a surprising amount of congestion but most of the guys around me were shying away from the snow so I went right for it as that was the tightest path. Chris was by me, and we were running out towards the water- that's a damn long run, there were too many people in front of me, and I was not feeling good about how I was racing.
We were all holding back because the wind was at our back and we knew eventually we'd turn into it. I hit a mile at 5:46, which was- what's the opposite of blazing ?
I was in 7th or 8th, two guys my age including Chris and several younger guys in front of me, JB close behind. I never look back but I do take advantage of a turn around to evaluate who's close on, and I saw JB, Kerry. I saw Steve sooner than I expected and assumed he was racing well.
And then we were running into the wind. It hadn't been easy when we were running out of the wind. Into it was brutal. I passe three guys as we headed up and over the bridge. I was still- in my mind at least- chasing Chris. I made the first turn, then the second and the third and we were behind the fairgrounds. i got passed back by one of the guys I'd passed and dropped to fifth. I tried to keep him close as we ran on the snow covered road- the road was white and would be until we got back on 146.
Then we turned and were running along the fairground- the wind was directly in our face, there was a thicker snowcoat on the road and I seriously questioned whether I was running or just walking. But the guy in front of me wasn't going anywhere.
Finally, we made the turn back onto black asphalt and the run to the final turn seemed to take forever. I was not closing. We finally made the turn and I knew I wasn't catching the guy that was about two seconds in front of me. I hate the end of the race where I am totally gassed and the low hanging fruit is-
I stopped thinking and decided I had the better angle. He'd taken the turn wide and lined up the finish line, which was on the opposite side of the street. Just as Chris Dickerson and I had run on the opposite side of the yellow line going out, taking that shortest path, I drew a straighter line to the finish and then I accelerated and went by the other guy, not just taking the best line, but earning it- I went by him and there was no response at all.
Og course, this wasn't a sprint to win the race, or even my age group. I was a lowly fourth, a forgotten third in my age group. And once again I'd been outrun and outclassed by Chris Dickerson.
But I'd run hard, finished strong. I warmed down with Steve and JB and got to talk to JB and Jenny and then had an awesome brunch with Steve, Margit and Ian.
It was a great way to start the New Year.
I got distracted while writing this by the Nightmare at 20,000 Feet episode of the Twilight Zone. That's one of two episodes featuring the man many of you may now know as Denny Crane, but watching this, what you see is basically the exact same acting Shatner brought to Star Trek. Which is there in Boston Legal, but you have to search a bit sometimes.
Anyway, it was cold and wind this morning and that plays into one of the few theories of racing I have. They are- you should know what you are going to wear, you should know what you are going to eat, and you should only be flexible if you are really wrong. That's because I think when you start hemming and hawing over what to wear (or eat), you open the door on regrets that will eat at you no matter what decision you make and you waste warm-up time thinking about something besides warming-up.
I went to the race with Steve Surprise, one of my teammates from Force 5. It was cold.
I was wearing two layers, heavy socks and racing flats. Racing flats and heavy socks do not go and my toes were numb from some combination of the cold and the circulatory deficiencies.
I was having trouble warming up. There was a lot of congestion at the starting line, and people were running around the green. Half the street was still under snow, the wind was blowing.
I knew somewhere during the race I'd be overheated, but so what ?
I talked to Chris Dickerson, JB (John Bysiewicz) and then did my strides. I stopped once to mention to Chris that he looked like he was feeling good and he said he did. They were slow. I felt like my tights were holding me back...
Finally, the race started. About 4 strides into the race, a guy off to my right- a big guy in tights and a bright green running jacket, pulled a hamstring. I watched him hop a stride or two and then turned my attention to my own sorry start. I was pulling hard to the right, straight at the turn, running on the snow because it was the shortest path but with a lot of bodies around me, a lot of young kids.
I got my feet clipped in the turn, but I was able to keep my feet as we turned the corner, and then headed past pages and towards the next turn. There was a surprising amount of congestion but most of the guys around me were shying away from the snow so I went right for it as that was the tightest path. Chris was by me, and we were running out towards the water- that's a damn long run, there were too many people in front of me, and I was not feeling good about how I was racing.
We were all holding back because the wind was at our back and we knew eventually we'd turn into it. I hit a mile at 5:46, which was- what's the opposite of blazing ?
I was in 7th or 8th, two guys my age including Chris and several younger guys in front of me, JB close behind. I never look back but I do take advantage of a turn around to evaluate who's close on, and I saw JB, Kerry. I saw Steve sooner than I expected and assumed he was racing well.
And then we were running into the wind. It hadn't been easy when we were running out of the wind. Into it was brutal. I passe three guys as we headed up and over the bridge. I was still- in my mind at least- chasing Chris. I made the first turn, then the second and the third and we were behind the fairgrounds. i got passed back by one of the guys I'd passed and dropped to fifth. I tried to keep him close as we ran on the snow covered road- the road was white and would be until we got back on 146.
Then we turned and were running along the fairground- the wind was directly in our face, there was a thicker snowcoat on the road and I seriously questioned whether I was running or just walking. But the guy in front of me wasn't going anywhere.
Finally, we made the turn back onto black asphalt and the run to the final turn seemed to take forever. I was not closing. We finally made the turn and I knew I wasn't catching the guy that was about two seconds in front of me. I hate the end of the race where I am totally gassed and the low hanging fruit is-
I stopped thinking and decided I had the better angle. He'd taken the turn wide and lined up the finish line, which was on the opposite side of the street. Just as Chris Dickerson and I had run on the opposite side of the yellow line going out, taking that shortest path, I drew a straighter line to the finish and then I accelerated and went by the other guy, not just taking the best line, but earning it- I went by him and there was no response at all.
Og course, this wasn't a sprint to win the race, or even my age group. I was a lowly fourth, a forgotten third in my age group. And once again I'd been outrun and outclassed by Chris Dickerson.
But I'd run hard, finished strong. I warmed down with Steve and JB and got to talk to JB and Jenny and then had an awesome brunch with Steve, Margit and Ian.
It was a great way to start the New Year.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thanksgiving Day 5k- Y Walk and Run
I'd told several people I was planning to re-doing last year's double- the 5K at 8:30, followed by the Madison 5 mile road race at 10:00 AM. In 2008 I'd run pretty well, with an 18:14 and a 30:16, 2nd in my age group for both races. Neither race was spectacular, but both were adequate.
But I ended up not running the double. Margit had been planning on swimming Thanksgiving morning, but that didn't happen so instead she decided to run the 5K pushing Ian.
We got to the race about 15 minutes before the scheduled start, I watched Ian while she registered and then got in a decent enough warm-up. I'd trained through the race, with a short, high intensity mountain-bike brick on Wednesday, but there was still the thought I might be able to place well- this is a smaller thanksgiving race on roads I know really well. JT was there and I know JT can take me and there were some high school and college kids, but I still thought I might be in the mix.
I selected my initial line really carefully, because the race comes out of the Walsh Intermediate School parking lot and takes a very hard right up against a high kerb just as the road space narrows. I wanted to take the turn first and avoid any jostling- Charlie Hornak told me he and Kerry Arsenault were bumping here after the race.
I got to the turn first, just like I wanted, and it was loud behind me. Almost as soon as I finished the turn, I got passed by one of those guys that actually looked like a runner- tall, thin, running singlet and shorts, neck beads, bushy head of hair. Teenager or first year college kid. I tried to open up the throttle. At this point there was no thought of running a second race, I wanted to find a gear that justified me having been out in front at all. Then I got passed again.
This was the point where I knew for sure I wasn't winning any races this year. Yeah, I'd been looking to maybe steal me some Thanksgiving dessert for my season. Thinking maybe none of the kids had wheels and I could outrun Juan Tolberto- I had beat him last year by a handful of seconds.
But the truth hit. It was cold and I was still not acclimated fully and me and my arm warmers were getting our ass handed to us by real runners. I was in third, then fourth, then sixth, then JT blew by me like I was trying to outrun gravity itself. I'd gone through a mile at 5:30 and the voice of reason- which sounds a lot like my coach- reminded me that 5:30 means I'm running well. That's high 17:30s for me if I can hold myself together. But the idea of winning dying felt like it took something out of me. At one mile and a quarter I felt like a complete poser out there running a road race. I didn't really deserve to be pounding down the road, the short, kind of stocky guy in the tri-gear, feeling like I was going to explode, crash and burn before I hit the cone at the turn-around.
I knew there were more people behind me, bearing down on me. I was running heavy, hell, I am heavy, for a runner anyway, and according to the charts, which are meaningless, I'm just heavy period. I am just not a 5K runner.
I took the cone and there was Kerry, first woman. I wasn't sure I could hold her off. There was Charlie and other people. I started hearing my name- this is my home time after all. I went by Ian and Margit going the other way, just inches between us- the yellow line the only spearation..
I didn't have a cliff-shot. I needed it.
I hit the two mile mark at- 11:00 ?
Second mile, same as the first. What the hell ? Was I falling apart or not ?
Not. The third mile has a little uphill incline section back towards the 'main' road and I hauled every last bit of ass I could. I was still chasing the guys in front of me. It didn't matter they were long gone now. The people behind me ? I didn't care about them. I felt it all starting to click and no one was going to catch me. Oh, they might close on me, but no one was going to close me down.
I opened up my stride, let myself feel like a runner again.
17:39- that's 35 seconds faster than last year, when it was in the upper-50s, when I was better warmed up.
Margit ran 24:00 pushing Ian- beating more than 3/4 of the field.
We didn't get out of there quickly enough to get to Madison, but I didn't care. I'd run the way I'd planned to, as hard as I could, and the three of us had all had a good time, and it was time for family.
I'd survived feeling like I was blowing up. And that was all it was. I really was actually running very well (for a stubby aging triathlete), and I'd let getting housed on my home course get to me. Really, what probably saved me was that JB had 1 and 2 mile clocks, so I knew I was running solid, and that was all I need. Verification that I was doing my job and keeping it steady. 6 of the 8 guys that beat me also beat 17:00 on the clock, and let's be real, I have no business running with the sub-17 crowd.
And that's fine with me. Honest.
But I ended up not running the double. Margit had been planning on swimming Thanksgiving morning, but that didn't happen so instead she decided to run the 5K pushing Ian.
We got to the race about 15 minutes before the scheduled start, I watched Ian while she registered and then got in a decent enough warm-up. I'd trained through the race, with a short, high intensity mountain-bike brick on Wednesday, but there was still the thought I might be able to place well- this is a smaller thanksgiving race on roads I know really well. JT was there and I know JT can take me and there were some high school and college kids, but I still thought I might be in the mix.
I selected my initial line really carefully, because the race comes out of the Walsh Intermediate School parking lot and takes a very hard right up against a high kerb just as the road space narrows. I wanted to take the turn first and avoid any jostling- Charlie Hornak told me he and Kerry Arsenault were bumping here after the race.
I got to the turn first, just like I wanted, and it was loud behind me. Almost as soon as I finished the turn, I got passed by one of those guys that actually looked like a runner- tall, thin, running singlet and shorts, neck beads, bushy head of hair. Teenager or first year college kid. I tried to open up the throttle. At this point there was no thought of running a second race, I wanted to find a gear that justified me having been out in front at all. Then I got passed again.
This was the point where I knew for sure I wasn't winning any races this year. Yeah, I'd been looking to maybe steal me some Thanksgiving dessert for my season. Thinking maybe none of the kids had wheels and I could outrun Juan Tolberto- I had beat him last year by a handful of seconds.
But the truth hit. It was cold and I was still not acclimated fully and me and my arm warmers were getting our ass handed to us by real runners. I was in third, then fourth, then sixth, then JT blew by me like I was trying to outrun gravity itself. I'd gone through a mile at 5:30 and the voice of reason- which sounds a lot like my coach- reminded me that 5:30 means I'm running well. That's high 17:30s for me if I can hold myself together. But the idea of winning dying felt like it took something out of me. At one mile and a quarter I felt like a complete poser out there running a road race. I didn't really deserve to be pounding down the road, the short, kind of stocky guy in the tri-gear, feeling like I was going to explode, crash and burn before I hit the cone at the turn-around.
I knew there were more people behind me, bearing down on me. I was running heavy, hell, I am heavy, for a runner anyway, and according to the charts, which are meaningless, I'm just heavy period. I am just not a 5K runner.
I took the cone and there was Kerry, first woman. I wasn't sure I could hold her off. There was Charlie and other people. I started hearing my name- this is my home time after all. I went by Ian and Margit going the other way, just inches between us- the yellow line the only spearation..
I didn't have a cliff-shot. I needed it.
I hit the two mile mark at- 11:00 ?
Second mile, same as the first. What the hell ? Was I falling apart or not ?
Not. The third mile has a little uphill incline section back towards the 'main' road and I hauled every last bit of ass I could. I was still chasing the guys in front of me. It didn't matter they were long gone now. The people behind me ? I didn't care about them. I felt it all starting to click and no one was going to catch me. Oh, they might close on me, but no one was going to close me down.
I opened up my stride, let myself feel like a runner again.
17:39- that's 35 seconds faster than last year, when it was in the upper-50s, when I was better warmed up.
Margit ran 24:00 pushing Ian- beating more than 3/4 of the field.
We didn't get out of there quickly enough to get to Madison, but I didn't care. I'd run the way I'd planned to, as hard as I could, and the three of us had all had a good time, and it was time for family.
I'd survived feeling like I was blowing up. And that was all it was. I really was actually running very well (for a stubby aging triathlete), and I'd let getting housed on my home course get to me. Really, what probably saved me was that JB had 1 and 2 mile clocks, so I knew I was running solid, and that was all I need. Verification that I was doing my job and keeping it steady. 6 of the 8 guys that beat me also beat 17:00 on the clock, and let's be real, I have no business running with the sub-17 crowd.
And that's fine with me. Honest.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Clinton Bluefish 5k
After taking almost two weeks off, with no real workouts over half an hour, it was interesting to step back into the swing of things the hardest way possible- a 5k.
The Clinton Bluefish 5k has become a traditional part (read, two years running) of our eight-person fantasy football draft. Last year we had five GMs run. It was only three this year, but that's still not bad.
I wasn't really sure I was ready to run a 5K after not having run more than half an hour since Sea Legs and only having two decent training runs since the Ironman. I was also concerned everything I'd worked to get to a point of feeling better would go to pieces with one race. Still, I thought I could probably go out and run a smart, controlled race and do OK, if not great.
We got there after an absolutely psychotic bus ride (no onsite parking) and it was late- and then my Active.com pre-registration had disappeared mysteriously. Oh well.
I got registered, ran about a mile or so warm-up with Charlie Hornak, and headed back to the start line. There was a short delay for registration, so I did some strides and waited for Ken Platt to move us up to the start line.
The race always seems to draw a big high school crowd, which I try my best to be aware of, but still, it's hard being the old man on the starting line and getting swamped by literally twenty people. Did I say swamped ? I meant elbowed... that's right, elbowed. the high school kid that elbowed me didn't really seem to know what he'd done, and I did my best to let it go. I had to tell myself to just stay in my rhythm and things would work themselves out eventually, to not get involved in trying to move up but rather let people come back to me.
The race starts on a very slight uphill then turns right onto a little more of an uphill. At this point, I was a little worried. Here I was, the old man at 43, running with a bunch of high school kids in around 12th place, breathing harder and louder than anyone else. I hadn't worked hard in two weeks. Moments like this, when you wonder if you really have it, can't last long.
I saw a small bump, a slightly larger rise, and went for it. Just like that I'd gone around a pack of about eight athletes and surged into fourth. I pulled up with the guys in second and third and pushed them a little, but they responded as we turned towards a downhill section.
Despite briefly challenging these two, it became clear that fourth was the best I should be hoping for. Then one of the guys I'd passed, a twenty-something on his way to winning his age group, went by my at a mile and a half and I knew I was going to be fighting for fifth, given his even cadence. Still, I hung on as best I could and went through 2 miles at around 11:32, which suggested to me that I was on 17:45-17:50 pace.
The last mile and change was not easy, but it wasn't unbearably hard either. I held my position as best I could, and came in at 17:50.
It's interesting. After struggling for four years to break 18:00 in a 5K, which is not a distance I'm trained for in any way, I've done it twice in a row six weeks apart. Now 17:50 is hard to get excited about when guys my age like Chris Chisholm can beat that by two minutes without breaking a sweat, but still, I'll definitely take it, and any other sub-18 5Ks that want to come my way.
IM Florida, time to get ready...
The Clinton Bluefish 5k has become a traditional part (read, two years running) of our eight-person fantasy football draft. Last year we had five GMs run. It was only three this year, but that's still not bad.
I wasn't really sure I was ready to run a 5K after not having run more than half an hour since Sea Legs and only having two decent training runs since the Ironman. I was also concerned everything I'd worked to get to a point of feeling better would go to pieces with one race. Still, I thought I could probably go out and run a smart, controlled race and do OK, if not great.
We got there after an absolutely psychotic bus ride (no onsite parking) and it was late- and then my Active.com pre-registration had disappeared mysteriously. Oh well.
I got registered, ran about a mile or so warm-up with Charlie Hornak, and headed back to the start line. There was a short delay for registration, so I did some strides and waited for Ken Platt to move us up to the start line.
The race always seems to draw a big high school crowd, which I try my best to be aware of, but still, it's hard being the old man on the starting line and getting swamped by literally twenty people. Did I say swamped ? I meant elbowed... that's right, elbowed. the high school kid that elbowed me didn't really seem to know what he'd done, and I did my best to let it go. I had to tell myself to just stay in my rhythm and things would work themselves out eventually, to not get involved in trying to move up but rather let people come back to me.
The race starts on a very slight uphill then turns right onto a little more of an uphill. At this point, I was a little worried. Here I was, the old man at 43, running with a bunch of high school kids in around 12th place, breathing harder and louder than anyone else. I hadn't worked hard in two weeks. Moments like this, when you wonder if you really have it, can't last long.
I saw a small bump, a slightly larger rise, and went for it. Just like that I'd gone around a pack of about eight athletes and surged into fourth. I pulled up with the guys in second and third and pushed them a little, but they responded as we turned towards a downhill section.
Despite briefly challenging these two, it became clear that fourth was the best I should be hoping for. Then one of the guys I'd passed, a twenty-something on his way to winning his age group, went by my at a mile and a half and I knew I was going to be fighting for fifth, given his even cadence. Still, I hung on as best I could and went through 2 miles at around 11:32, which suggested to me that I was on 17:45-17:50 pace.
The last mile and change was not easy, but it wasn't unbearably hard either. I held my position as best I could, and came in at 17:50.
It's interesting. After struggling for four years to break 18:00 in a 5K, which is not a distance I'm trained for in any way, I've done it twice in a row six weeks apart. Now 17:50 is hard to get excited about when guys my age like Chris Chisholm can beat that by two minutes without breaking a sweat, but still, I'll definitely take it, and any other sub-18 5Ks that want to come my way.
IM Florida, time to get ready...
Friday, July 04, 2008
Independence Day 5000
I took a break from my Ironman taper to run the Independence Day 5000 in Milford, only because it's a USATF-CT championship. I went to the race with Henry Brown, who is over from the UK to visit. He was kind enough to drag my sorry behind around for about two hours on the bike yesterday and also head to the 5K today.
I wasn't expecting much- after a brisk ride and run yesterday I was pretty sure it would be a slow go and and the 15 minute warm-up I took with Henry and Charlie Hornak did nothing but reinforce that idea. Although my knee and achilles felt pretty good, I seemed to be a little sluggish through the first mile and an half of the warm-up. However, I often feel that way when I first get to a race, and I've learned some good strides can set things right to some extent.
I did my strides for about 10 minutes, and remembered back to a year ago. At that time, my right knee had been really sore. I couldn't do a knee bend, and this race had been a challenge to get the knee loosened up to run. Things are much better these days. Ice seems to help a lot.
The massive flood of race day registrations- some 400- left the data input team scrambling and it was announced that the race would start ten minutes late. That was frustrating, but expected (see last year's blog post). It's just too much for two people with laptops to handle. Still, it's always hard to be warmed up and ready to go and then have to reboot.
I waited for about ten minutes, talking to Charlie and Henry, then decided to start doing more strides.
The race started twenty minutes late, but no complaints here, and everyone seemed pretty relaxed about it. The race starts on an uphill, winding a little bit into a 70 degree right hand turn. As happened last year, the field surged ahead quickly, with the middle sagging backwards as the edges pushed forward.
Generally, I've gotten really good at being patient. But I've been doing mostly longer races and duathlons. You can't be as sedate running a 5K as you would be in a shorter race, or at least I can't. Other guys with more speed can, but I have to have a decent first mile if I want to have a decent 5k. So I started to work my way around people. We turned out onto the main road and I was alongside the leading woman and we took the left up the hill. I got caught a short there but negotiated the sewer grate.
Going up the hill, I passed George Buchanan. I was keeping my eyes on Henry's back, trying not to let him get too far away. Passing George gave me some confidence and worried me at the same time, but I figured I would press my advantage if I was running well. We all crested the hill and I really worked the downhill, which basically lasts a little past the 1 mile mark, which I hit at 5:25 or so. Then it's another uphill. I passed more people and kept pushing. During warm-up I'd seen that Marty had marked the 1.5 mile spot, so I decided to push until I got there, then moderate my effort going up the hill, which I did.
We turned the corner and I was back and with one of the Hitek open guys. I also knew that George was on me and I was hoping he was going to be going through soon. The course is pretty much downhill after that last climb and I decided to try and push the downhill as much as possible.
The last mile is basically three stretches, two of them long and fairly straight, then a wind into the parking lot. I kept wondering where George was. It turned out that he was nursing a sore hamstring and was running 'just hard enough' to beat another team's top Grandmaster- which he did. He went by at around 2.6 and dropped a 13 second hammer on me.
I hit the 3 mile mark at 16:40, rejected the notion of sprinting for a sub-17, and ran 5:33 pace for the last 1/10th of a mile. That's fine because I ran 5:34 average for the whole race. Henry cracked 17 with a 16:58.
I haven't run a 5K within 30 seconds of this in the last four years, as far as I can tell. I'm psyched- I think if I taper well now, I might just do okay in Lake Placid.
I wasn't expecting much- after a brisk ride and run yesterday I was pretty sure it would be a slow go and and the 15 minute warm-up I took with Henry and Charlie Hornak did nothing but reinforce that idea. Although my knee and achilles felt pretty good, I seemed to be a little sluggish through the first mile and an half of the warm-up. However, I often feel that way when I first get to a race, and I've learned some good strides can set things right to some extent.
I did my strides for about 10 minutes, and remembered back to a year ago. At that time, my right knee had been really sore. I couldn't do a knee bend, and this race had been a challenge to get the knee loosened up to run. Things are much better these days. Ice seems to help a lot.
The massive flood of race day registrations- some 400- left the data input team scrambling and it was announced that the race would start ten minutes late. That was frustrating, but expected (see last year's blog post). It's just too much for two people with laptops to handle. Still, it's always hard to be warmed up and ready to go and then have to reboot.
I waited for about ten minutes, talking to Charlie and Henry, then decided to start doing more strides.
The race started twenty minutes late, but no complaints here, and everyone seemed pretty relaxed about it. The race starts on an uphill, winding a little bit into a 70 degree right hand turn. As happened last year, the field surged ahead quickly, with the middle sagging backwards as the edges pushed forward.
Generally, I've gotten really good at being patient. But I've been doing mostly longer races and duathlons. You can't be as sedate running a 5K as you would be in a shorter race, or at least I can't. Other guys with more speed can, but I have to have a decent first mile if I want to have a decent 5k. So I started to work my way around people. We turned out onto the main road and I was alongside the leading woman and we took the left up the hill. I got caught a short there but negotiated the sewer grate.
Going up the hill, I passed George Buchanan. I was keeping my eyes on Henry's back, trying not to let him get too far away. Passing George gave me some confidence and worried me at the same time, but I figured I would press my advantage if I was running well. We all crested the hill and I really worked the downhill, which basically lasts a little past the 1 mile mark, which I hit at 5:25 or so. Then it's another uphill. I passed more people and kept pushing. During warm-up I'd seen that Marty had marked the 1.5 mile spot, so I decided to push until I got there, then moderate my effort going up the hill, which I did.
We turned the corner and I was back and with one of the Hitek open guys. I also knew that George was on me and I was hoping he was going to be going through soon. The course is pretty much downhill after that last climb and I decided to try and push the downhill as much as possible.
The last mile is basically three stretches, two of them long and fairly straight, then a wind into the parking lot. I kept wondering where George was. It turned out that he was nursing a sore hamstring and was running 'just hard enough' to beat another team's top Grandmaster- which he did. He went by at around 2.6 and dropped a 13 second hammer on me.
I hit the 3 mile mark at 16:40, rejected the notion of sprinting for a sub-17, and ran 5:33 pace for the last 1/10th of a mile. That's fine because I ran 5:34 average for the whole race. Henry cracked 17 with a 16:58.
I haven't run a 5K within 30 seconds of this in the last four years, as far as I can tell. I'm psyched- I think if I taper well now, I might just do okay in Lake Placid.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Orange You Glad You Met Me ?
I did a swim/run brick from the gym today- a massive (for me) 2500 yard session in the pool followed by an easy- er, moderate- run for an hour.
The run took me up into Orange, eventually past the High Plains Community Center.
Although I've been running road races long enough now (this is the tenth year, which is scary) and have forgotten more races than I remember, there's something familiar about the location. Any doubts I had there used to be a race held there was put to rest when I ran past a line with 3M on it- the three mile mark of a 5K that ends in the parking lot. I ran a little farther- I was near my halfway turnaround, and there was Pine Tree Drive. I headed down it until I hit thirty minutes and then headed back.
It reminded me of the last time I ever judged another athlete based on looks, which was also the first time I remember racing Chris Dickerson.
I think it was 1998, although I can't find the race result, and I'm pretty sure it was this race. I was running sub-seventeen minute 5Ks back then, which of course made me eligible to overestimate my own modest ability. Not to mention under-appreciate it. Anyway, Chris Dickerson was there. Not being from CT, and being generally ignorant about the athletes in the sport I was participating in, I had no idea who Chris was. Which is too bad. Chris is just a great guy, a really awesome runner and stellar competitor.
However, to me, he was just this really big guy with wireframe glasses and white tube socks. Chris kind of runs big, because well, he's big- compared to yours truly, a guy so small that the phrase 'I'm OK with midget' has come out of my mouth a few times. But seriously, I took one look at Chris and thought 'Not a problem' or something like that. Something stupid.
So the race starts and we head down Pine Tree Road. If you know Pine Tree Road (and why would you), it's downhill, a fast but hard mile when you're on Chris's heels. I thought as we hit the mile mark in 5:20 or so, that Chris would start to go off the back. Well, there was plenty of going off the back, only I was doing it. By the time the race was over, Chris had, as he has done a hundred times, crushed me like a grape, then shook my hand and very earnestly told me how well I ran.
Although I was a dumbass that day, I learned a valuable lesson about not judging other athletes before a race, especially based on looks.
But I was thinking about it today and I have a feeling that there is still a little of that which goes on in my head the other way. Transition in triathlon before a race. Let's face it, other people have killer kit, sweeter looking bikes, ironman tattoos, an appropriate number of body piercings (one just isn't enough), cut muscles. And let's face it, most of them are better looking too. The word schlump comes to mind when I compare myself to that.
But you can't tell anything at all about a triathlete by looking at them. Thank goodness. I'm not a great triathlete, but I certain beat plenty of better looking ones every time I race, because of course, I'm not racing them. I'm racing me, and I'm racing the clock. Except when a guy with a 40,41,42,43, or 44 is right in front of me...
The run took me up into Orange, eventually past the High Plains Community Center.
Although I've been running road races long enough now (this is the tenth year, which is scary) and have forgotten more races than I remember, there's something familiar about the location. Any doubts I had there used to be a race held there was put to rest when I ran past a line with 3M on it- the three mile mark of a 5K that ends in the parking lot. I ran a little farther- I was near my halfway turnaround, and there was Pine Tree Drive. I headed down it until I hit thirty minutes and then headed back.
It reminded me of the last time I ever judged another athlete based on looks, which was also the first time I remember racing Chris Dickerson.
I think it was 1998, although I can't find the race result, and I'm pretty sure it was this race. I was running sub-seventeen minute 5Ks back then, which of course made me eligible to overestimate my own modest ability. Not to mention under-appreciate it. Anyway, Chris Dickerson was there. Not being from CT, and being generally ignorant about the athletes in the sport I was participating in, I had no idea who Chris was. Which is too bad. Chris is just a great guy, a really awesome runner and stellar competitor.
However, to me, he was just this really big guy with wireframe glasses and white tube socks. Chris kind of runs big, because well, he's big- compared to yours truly, a guy so small that the phrase 'I'm OK with midget' has come out of my mouth a few times. But seriously, I took one look at Chris and thought 'Not a problem' or something like that. Something stupid.
So the race starts and we head down Pine Tree Road. If you know Pine Tree Road (and why would you), it's downhill, a fast but hard mile when you're on Chris's heels. I thought as we hit the mile mark in 5:20 or so, that Chris would start to go off the back. Well, there was plenty of going off the back, only I was doing it. By the time the race was over, Chris had, as he has done a hundred times, crushed me like a grape, then shook my hand and very earnestly told me how well I ran.
Although I was a dumbass that day, I learned a valuable lesson about not judging other athletes before a race, especially based on looks.
But I was thinking about it today and I have a feeling that there is still a little of that which goes on in my head the other way. Transition in triathlon before a race. Let's face it, other people have killer kit, sweeter looking bikes, ironman tattoos, an appropriate number of body piercings (one just isn't enough), cut muscles. And let's face it, most of them are better looking too. The word schlump comes to mind when I compare myself to that.
But you can't tell anything at all about a triathlete by looking at them. Thank goodness. I'm not a great triathlete, but I certain beat plenty of better looking ones every time I race, because of course, I'm not racing them. I'm racing me, and I'm racing the clock. Except when a guy with a 40,41,42,43, or 44 is right in front of me...
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Eight Coaches, Lots of Beers, Lousy Players
In another departure from my usual type of post, today we had our 13th draft, and for the first time in a long time, every team was represented either by their coach or a stand-in- and not just any stand-in but rather a former league champion. Our league is a keeper league, and last year we protected eight players and drafted one rookie after the NFL draft. We also have abnormally large rosters- 26 players, to accommodate playing right through the Super Bowl, long after most leagues have shuttered. Yet more unusually, we started off the day running 5K- half the coaches in the league turned out to run the Clinton Bluefish 5K, which was an amazing thing, with spectacular performances turned in by Margit, Darren, and Bove.
When 64 established players and 8 rookies are already off the table, even the first round of the 17 round draft is going to include a reach or two and while there was plenty of suspense (sort of) about who the first pick would be- Ronnie Brown- there was also a palpable sense of resignation about drafting down through the seemingly endless rounds.
What amazes me- and should tell me exactly why it is I never win my league- is how the same players end up on my roster year in and year out. I went into the draft determined (as I have been for several years) to break the cycle of choosing familiarity over talent. And I started out on the right foot- I reeled in Maurice Jones-Drew, a player that was on another roster last year and plays for a team- Jacksonville- that I really dislike. But 10 of remaining 16 picks involved players on my roster last year, and I tapped the Bears, Jets, and Dolphins 8 times.
I seem to remember last year going hog-wild on Dolphins, which did nothing for me except to leave me with a lot of guys to cut as the Dante Culpepper stuck a fork in their season. Of course, the one Dolphin I should have kept, Ronnie Brown, did not survive the playoff purge.
The draft itself went pretty well and everyone seemed to enjoy it. We had a laptop for everyone, almost enough power, plenty of beer and food and although it took four hours, having everyone available was a much better experience. I want to thank everyone for showing up and getting the season- if not my team- off to a great start.
My team, on the other hand, is pretty beat.
When 64 established players and 8 rookies are already off the table, even the first round of the 17 round draft is going to include a reach or two and while there was plenty of suspense (sort of) about who the first pick would be- Ronnie Brown- there was also a palpable sense of resignation about drafting down through the seemingly endless rounds.
What amazes me- and should tell me exactly why it is I never win my league- is how the same players end up on my roster year in and year out. I went into the draft determined (as I have been for several years) to break the cycle of choosing familiarity over talent. And I started out on the right foot- I reeled in Maurice Jones-Drew, a player that was on another roster last year and plays for a team- Jacksonville- that I really dislike. But 10 of remaining 16 picks involved players on my roster last year, and I tapped the Bears, Jets, and Dolphins 8 times.
I seem to remember last year going hog-wild on Dolphins, which did nothing for me except to leave me with a lot of guys to cut as the Dante Culpepper stuck a fork in their season. Of course, the one Dolphin I should have kept, Ronnie Brown, did not survive the playoff purge.
The draft itself went pretty well and everyone seemed to enjoy it. We had a laptop for everyone, almost enough power, plenty of beer and food and although it took four hours, having everyone available was a much better experience. I want to thank everyone for showing up and getting the season- if not my team- off to a great start.
My team, on the other hand, is pretty beat.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Independence Day 5k
Wow. A record crowd showed up for the 5K in Milford (USATF-CT Championship race #3). 400 hundred race day registrations, which was enough to blow through the all the registration forms, race goody bags, and force Marty to delay the race by twenty minutes.
I was certainly not expecting much. I did do three hour plus runs in the week since the Fairfield race, but not were speed workouts. With my knee being sore still, it's much easier for me to go out and ride- 60 miles on Sunday, 42 in 2 hours yesterday. I rode hard yesterday, pushing in the wind and going after some decent hills.
As the sanctions representative for USATF-CT and a member of the LDR committee, it's great to have such a large crowd for the race. As an athlete, well, the guys that show up because it's a USATF-CT race are better athletes (than me, that's for sure) and that means my name sinks down the results list like a stone.
Holiday races tend to offer one feature other races may not- costumes. Guys in red,white and blue top hats, suspenders or other patriotic gear. This year, I saw a guy in his late 60s or early 70s in cowboy boots. He started, unbelievably, in the third row. He apparently ran the entire race in the boots- no socks. I'm thinking some really scary blisters happened there.
The front was really tightly packed and as often is the case I wanted to get a team box going but there were only three of us standing right there. First Chad Brown was nice enough to move his feet a little, then I got some help from one of my teammates and managed to get off the line. My right foot had actually been turned out and back, which is not how you want to start a short race.
Sort of. The race featured some pretty serious false starts, which I won't go into because they were accidental and did not affect the finish. Meanwhile, although I was in the second row, the middle sagged backwards while the ends went forward. The race starts up a sort of sloping grade. Hill would be a strong word, but not much. I was in about 60th place as we took the first turn. I was behind a number of women, several kids in basketball shorts and high-tops, this guy Rodney with the the big head band, and possibly, although I can't confirm it, Doc Whitney.
It could easily turned into panic time, however, a number of people around me are people I should be either right behind or in the area of as I watch them run away, so I settled in. My knee had been bothering me all through the warm-ups, during strides, and I tried doing a knee-bend once and that was definitely a bad idea. However, as I started running hard- but controlled- it really didn't bother me. In fact, it might have helped me have a better race by forcing me to run a little slower.
I was just over 5:30 for the first mile and I seemed to be out-dueling people on the hills. There was a lot of back and forth and a few guys passed me, but I felt like I was having a good, controlled race. I hit 2 miles at 11:20 and still going ok. Marty saw me when I gave the V sign and he called out my name.
I was a little gassed in the last mile. I haven't run a 5K since Christopher Martins. I let one guy get passed me, but other than that, I held my won as we took the last turn. I was sure Kerry was bearing down on me and teammate or not, I didn't want any women beating me. That's silly, I suppose, but oh well.
I went through at 17:48. Wow ! First, it's kind of sad that 17:48 would excite me. Five years ago, I was still running sub-17s on really good days. Of course, I was probably running 5-6 days a week back then, still doing speed work, and so on.
However, it's a good time for me. The last time I broke 18:00 minutes was a 17:59 at Christopher Martins in 2005 and it was my fastest time since a 17:47 at the Corporate Challenge in August 2005. It was also 20 seconds faster than last year, although last year's race was my best training day before Lake Placid (I followed up the race with a 98 mile ride, my longest of the year outside the Ironman). 18:08 was the closest I had all last year, even the one race I won...
Better still, teammates of mine were the top man and woman- Kerry for the women, Oscar for the men.
But the biggest shocker of all- Charlie Hornak shaved his head...
I was certainly not expecting much. I did do three hour plus runs in the week since the Fairfield race, but not were speed workouts. With my knee being sore still, it's much easier for me to go out and ride- 60 miles on Sunday, 42 in 2 hours yesterday. I rode hard yesterday, pushing in the wind and going after some decent hills.
As the sanctions representative for USATF-CT and a member of the LDR committee, it's great to have such a large crowd for the race. As an athlete, well, the guys that show up because it's a USATF-CT race are better athletes (than me, that's for sure) and that means my name sinks down the results list like a stone.
Holiday races tend to offer one feature other races may not- costumes. Guys in red,white and blue top hats, suspenders or other patriotic gear. This year, I saw a guy in his late 60s or early 70s in cowboy boots. He started, unbelievably, in the third row. He apparently ran the entire race in the boots- no socks. I'm thinking some really scary blisters happened there.
The front was really tightly packed and as often is the case I wanted to get a team box going but there were only three of us standing right there. First Chad Brown was nice enough to move his feet a little, then I got some help from one of my teammates and managed to get off the line. My right foot had actually been turned out and back, which is not how you want to start a short race.
Sort of. The race featured some pretty serious false starts, which I won't go into because they were accidental and did not affect the finish. Meanwhile, although I was in the second row, the middle sagged backwards while the ends went forward. The race starts up a sort of sloping grade. Hill would be a strong word, but not much. I was in about 60th place as we took the first turn. I was behind a number of women, several kids in basketball shorts and high-tops, this guy Rodney with the the big head band, and possibly, although I can't confirm it, Doc Whitney.
It could easily turned into panic time, however, a number of people around me are people I should be either right behind or in the area of as I watch them run away, so I settled in. My knee had been bothering me all through the warm-ups, during strides, and I tried doing a knee-bend once and that was definitely a bad idea. However, as I started running hard- but controlled- it really didn't bother me. In fact, it might have helped me have a better race by forcing me to run a little slower.
I was just over 5:30 for the first mile and I seemed to be out-dueling people on the hills. There was a lot of back and forth and a few guys passed me, but I felt like I was having a good, controlled race. I hit 2 miles at 11:20 and still going ok. Marty saw me when I gave the V sign and he called out my name.
I was a little gassed in the last mile. I haven't run a 5K since Christopher Martins. I let one guy get passed me, but other than that, I held my won as we took the last turn. I was sure Kerry was bearing down on me and teammate or not, I didn't want any women beating me. That's silly, I suppose, but oh well.
I went through at 17:48. Wow ! First, it's kind of sad that 17:48 would excite me. Five years ago, I was still running sub-17s on really good days. Of course, I was probably running 5-6 days a week back then, still doing speed work, and so on.
However, it's a good time for me. The last time I broke 18:00 minutes was a 17:59 at Christopher Martins in 2005 and it was my fastest time since a 17:47 at the Corporate Challenge in August 2005. It was also 20 seconds faster than last year, although last year's race was my best training day before Lake Placid (I followed up the race with a 98 mile ride, my longest of the year outside the Ironman). 18:08 was the closest I had all last year, even the one race I won...
Better still, teammates of mine were the top man and woman- Kerry for the women, Oscar for the men.
But the biggest shocker of all- Charlie Hornak shaved his head...
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