One more last race-again...

I guess I just can't pass up the chance to run a four mile race these days in Branford.

On Sunday I was planning to run 2 hours. Which I did. I ran a 75 minute warm-up with @poycc. In the rain. And the cold. I think it was a little under 50 degrees the whole warm-up, and raining, and then the wind kicked in.

I was wearing light-weight lobster gloves, tights, and jackets for the warm-up but I stripped down to my tri-gear and arm-warmers and headed over to the starting line. The wind kicked up and I couldn't believe it, but I found myself trying to talk myself into the idea that I could actually run the race without resorting to being all bundled up.

And it worked. By the time the race started, as I stood on the line watching the guy with the grey in his hair tying his shoe seconds before the race started (and doing a poor job of it), I thought this would be easy. The countdown came and them we started out, running down past Lenny's and hooking a right.

There were five of us in a pretty tight group, jockeying for for position, the police car just in front of us as we headed past the Owenego and out towards the ocean.

We were running together and no one really seemed to be ready push it. Chris Stonier, who I know is faster than me, was i the group, but no one was giving the sense that they wanted it.

And frankly, I was feeling as good as I could for having already run 70 minutes, for being cold and wet and having ridden 5 hours and run 45 minutes the day before. In other words, I knew what I had- which was nothing frankly.

So I did what crazy old guys that are washed-up runners do when faced with superior talent but running in bad conditions near the front of the pack.

I attacked.

I had a chance to take the lead, to be the guy chasing the police car, and I took it.

What happened the rest of the race really might be immaterial. I mean, I suppose in some ways I was that guy you see lead out at a race with no chance of winning it and you think 'ah, kind of jerky' but then again, not exactly. I wasn't running out of my head or anything. I had a chance to grab the lead, and I took it

Maybe it only lasted 10 seconds, but it was great. I was running hard, not smooth but hard and there I was, out in front. Making the effort. I might not win the race, but I'd taken my best shot it at and it felt great to be there.

And then reality set in, I was passed. We went through a mile at 5:20 and then I quickly fell to fifth.

Other memories- the kid with the track flats that ran me down with a sound like a horse and how I asked him 'what the hell are you wearing ?' as he ran by and he laughed. How my hands went very uncomfortably numb about 1.2 miles into the race. The guy with the shoe tying problem and how he had to stop mid-race to tie his shoe again.

The futile feeling running a course I know so well and knowing I was running out of time and was not going to catch anyone, but just enjoying being on a training course in race situation...

Crossing the line in 23:37, fifteen seconds faster than my last last race before Arizona in much worse conditions.

I was glad I did it. Was it smart training ?

Ah, who cares...

The Big Snow

We got a 'big snow' yesterday, which means that we had about 28 hours straight of one form of precipitation or another. But the heavy stuff fell between noon and five and we ended up with about 6 inches of snow and the rest of what fell was a weird spritz of rain, sleet, freezing rain and mix that added no accumulation.

For here, that's a big deal, although in Rochester, where I last lived prior to Branford, you could get 6 inches of snow and they might not even send you home early.

I like running in the snow, and I was planning to run this morning with one of my teammates, Michael D'Adetta at 9. He emailed Friday to ask if we were still on and I said yes.

I got up early but didn't want to shovel before the long run, which was a mistake. Margit decided not to leave the driveway for me when I got back. We'd shoveled once yesterday, but it was a lot of work and I felt bad that she'd felt compelled to do it while I was getting my workout.

Michael and I ran for a little over 1:20 and I added another 11 or 12 minutes on each side. The traffic while we were out there was some of the heaviest traffic I've ever seen, which added an unwanted complexity to what was an otherwise enjoyable run.

What's interesting about snow running is what a good workout it is. Your legs really have to work hard because you get the solid plant-energy return-stride equation. You can't baby your style, but you also just don't get the push off on each stride and it makes for a lot of work. Climbing hills is an extra challenge.

But while it's harder, it's not really hard. People always talk about slipping and falling, but when you're used to running in the snow, that's not really an issue. I'm mostly worried about cars sliding and hitting me.

Even though it was sleeting or something when we were running, it was an awesome day for a run, a great workout, and except for wishing I'd shoveled the driveway beforehand, no regrets.

I'll still take 80 and humid any day. Or rather most days. Not today, and not for while. Turns out I like running in the snow.

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.