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 shamrock and roll 5k. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shamrock and roll 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.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Shamrock 5 Miler and Fun Run, Part 1
It was cold- colder than it should have been. It had, after all, snowed on the way to Zanes where I was meeting Margit so we could head together to the race.
This was going to be the big day.
This was going to be the day Ian ran his first race, front to back. He was excited about the fun run.
We gave him a choice of who he wanted to run with, and he chose me, and Mommy went out onto the course to wait. However, as the time to start lengthened and the wind picked up, he started to get cold and I could see that he was not-
Not what ? Not me ? Not well, not NOT four years old ? It's a magic place, the inside of the head of a four year old and all I remember about that age are sensory impressions, not emotions, not rational processes.
So I grabbed hold of my son's gloved hand and we started out. Sometimes, it can be difficult. I was a coach for a number of years and there's a part of me that has difficulty not issuingorders advice, like that it would be easier to run if we weren't holding hands. And I know he's so excited that he's running too hard, that the run will become a walk, the walk become a plea to be carried, perhaps accompanied by crying....
This won't meet my expectations, or rather, won't meet my hopes. But my son, he's four. My hopes and expectations are not really relevant. The real question ? Will he be happy when he's done ? Will it give us a family moment that we can remember ?
It does. He runs hard and fast, then slower, then finally walks. But he covers three-fourths of the course before the exhaustion only a four-year old can experience sets in. Finally, he gets carried a short way, but runs across the finish line.
Later that day, he spends half an hour in the driveway playing something that very loosely could be called soccer. His energy is back, he's happy and laughing, so I know it's not that he can't run that distance or that long. And so what ? If he's not ready now, well, he will be someday. And if he's not ready some day ? That's all right too.
Athletics is an all-volunteer endeavour. Anything else is a mistake.
He's a trooper after the race, and when they are handing out medals for all the participants in the fun run, I ask if he wants one and when he says yes, I get one hung around his next straight away, and it does make him happy. And proud.
He's four, and he had a good time, and the rest, well, there is no rest. There's just the smile on his face, and that's everything.
This was going to be the big day.
This was going to be the day Ian ran his first race, front to back. He was excited about the fun run.
We gave him a choice of who he wanted to run with, and he chose me, and Mommy went out onto the course to wait. However, as the time to start lengthened and the wind picked up, he started to get cold and I could see that he was not-
Not what ? Not me ? Not well, not NOT four years old ? It's a magic place, the inside of the head of a four year old and all I remember about that age are sensory impressions, not emotions, not rational processes.
So I grabbed hold of my son's gloved hand and we started out. Sometimes, it can be difficult. I was a coach for a number of years and there's a part of me that has difficulty not issuing
This won't meet my expectations, or rather, won't meet my hopes. But my son, he's four. My hopes and expectations are not really relevant. The real question ? Will he be happy when he's done ? Will it give us a family moment that we can remember ?
It does. He runs hard and fast, then slower, then finally walks. But he covers three-fourths of the course before the exhaustion only a four-year old can experience sets in. Finally, he gets carried a short way, but runs across the finish line.
Later that day, he spends half an hour in the driveway playing something that very loosely could be called soccer. His energy is back, he's happy and laughing, so I know it's not that he can't run that distance or that long. And so what ? If he's not ready now, well, he will be someday. And if he's not ready some day ? That's all right too.
Athletics is an all-volunteer endeavour. Anything else is a mistake.
He's a trooper after the race, and when they are handing out medals for all the participants in the fun run, I ask if he wants one and when he says yes, I get one hung around his next straight away, and it does make him happy. And proud.
He's four, and he had a good time, and the rest, well, there is no rest. There's just the smile on his face, and that's everything.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Shamrock and Roll 5K
It doesn't usually take me a week to get round to writing a race report, especially when it's only the second race of the year, but it was busy week, with all that Daily Show watching, getting ready for spending the weekend in class and writing a significant presentation for it....
The Shamrock on Roll 5K is always hard. There's the physical profile of the course- a short slightly sloping downhill followed by a wicked climb, a short down hill, small flat, short uphill, then a rocketing downhill that reverses the long uphill, and two final turns with an shallow uphill until near the finish.
Did I mention they serve free Guinness after the race ?
It was a beautiful day for a 5K, especially for a 5K in March- it was in the upper 50s, very near 60, bright and sunny. It was amazing because on Monday we'd had about a foot of snow dumped on us, the schools had been closed and we'd gone sledding.
I got in a good warm-up, running with Michael and Charlie Hornak. When we got back to the start I started my strides, and by race time I was feeling as good as I was going to feel. I wasn't expecting a lot. While I'd been doing hill repeats for two weeks leading into the race I knew I was under-raced, out of shape, and overtrained.
It had been beautiful on Saturday and I responded by taking my T-Class out and doing a 1:50 time trial on it. I'd also run the Branford Road Race course in the morning. This is not how you rest for a 5K and that's OK because I'm not training for one, and even if I had been, I'd have shelved that for a chance to enjoy a great day. When the weather drops a nugget like last Saturday in your lap and you have time to ride, you take it and have no regrets.
The countdown finally came and we were off. I have the line for this course in my head. Exactly where I want to start to be able to run a dead straight line to kerb, then exactly how I want to take the first turn. After that it's the hill and everything starts to separate. I'd been watching the guys at the starting line and I knew one thing. I was up against a lot of young talent, and by up against I mean I was going to get my ass handed to me.
The hill is one of the great moments in racing for me. I mean, I'm OK on hills, but this hill in specific is so long and so severe for a 5K, that it's just fun. I was back and forth with a lot of teenage and twenty somethings and that was all good. I knew some were faster and some would fight and even though I'm old and slow and sometimes I question how much fire is left inside me to battle on short running courses (and when I'm not questioning if I still have it, I know I don't, just look at the pedestrian times I run), egotism and orneriness still do burn brightly. It doesn't matter what motivates you when you use it to run faster than your body alone can carry you.
You have to fight smart on the hill. A guy in orange went by me and instantly I knew he was my competition in my age group. How ? He looked like he had to still be in his thirties (all the best 40-somethings are better/younger looking after all) and he had just passed me.
But a funny thing happened on the way to second place in my age group. I passed him back. And this wasn't one of those stupid 'I'll show this guy who's the alpha male' passes. I measured his stride, waited, and went by him at my normal stride- he'd overcooked the hill a little.
I went through the turn- finally I was off the hill. Having been passed on it had shaken my happy thoughts a little, but I had Linkin Park's Bleed It Out swimming in my head (no, I wasn't wearing headphones), and I was in the mix and we took another turn, went up a short way and popped back out on the road. We were on the downhill and I worked. People in the pack going the other way were yelling my name as I went by, while on my side of the road people keep cheering this one kid I was jockeying with.
I ran hard, I passed some people. One guy running with me said' let's go get' the guy in front of us, but I wasn't talking. I was running in that back half of the 5K way I run, where I get big, and not in a good way. I'm a fairly steady runner, but I'm big for my size and when I get tired I run big, which is less efficient.
About halfway back down the hill orange shirt guy passed me and given his cadence, he might as well have staked me in the heart and stuffed my mouth with garlic on the way by. The part of my brain I don't trust (and maybe should) said to try and hop on, but the guy that tries not to blow up in the Ironman marathon has maybe had a little calcification of his race risk muscles.
That's an excuse. Better to say he passed me running well and I didn't rise to a challenge I should have risen to.
I stayed at my pace, jockeyed right into the two turns. I was over 18:00 at three miles.
Damn !
I still ran as hard as I could. I got caught literally in the chute, getting a same time but lower finisher than the teenager alongside me.
I fought off a case of the vomits, grabbed two Guinness tickets, warmed down with Charlie and Mike, then drank.
18:38, 18th overall, second in my age group.
Good enough ? Yes.
Um, no. It's never good enough.
Did I enjoy myself ? Sure. Sometimes it's OK to hold off the performance based self-loathing until later. Especially when there are friends and Guinness.
The Shamrock on Roll 5K is always hard. There's the physical profile of the course- a short slightly sloping downhill followed by a wicked climb, a short down hill, small flat, short uphill, then a rocketing downhill that reverses the long uphill, and two final turns with an shallow uphill until near the finish.
Did I mention they serve free Guinness after the race ?
It was a beautiful day for a 5K, especially for a 5K in March- it was in the upper 50s, very near 60, bright and sunny. It was amazing because on Monday we'd had about a foot of snow dumped on us, the schools had been closed and we'd gone sledding.
I got in a good warm-up, running with Michael and Charlie Hornak. When we got back to the start I started my strides, and by race time I was feeling as good as I was going to feel. I wasn't expecting a lot. While I'd been doing hill repeats for two weeks leading into the race I knew I was under-raced, out of shape, and overtrained.
It had been beautiful on Saturday and I responded by taking my T-Class out and doing a 1:50 time trial on it. I'd also run the Branford Road Race course in the morning. This is not how you rest for a 5K and that's OK because I'm not training for one, and even if I had been, I'd have shelved that for a chance to enjoy a great day. When the weather drops a nugget like last Saturday in your lap and you have time to ride, you take it and have no regrets.
The countdown finally came and we were off. I have the line for this course in my head. Exactly where I want to start to be able to run a dead straight line to kerb, then exactly how I want to take the first turn. After that it's the hill and everything starts to separate. I'd been watching the guys at the starting line and I knew one thing. I was up against a lot of young talent, and by up against I mean I was going to get my ass handed to me.
The hill is one of the great moments in racing for me. I mean, I'm OK on hills, but this hill in specific is so long and so severe for a 5K, that it's just fun. I was back and forth with a lot of teenage and twenty somethings and that was all good. I knew some were faster and some would fight and even though I'm old and slow and sometimes I question how much fire is left inside me to battle on short running courses (and when I'm not questioning if I still have it, I know I don't, just look at the pedestrian times I run), egotism and orneriness still do burn brightly. It doesn't matter what motivates you when you use it to run faster than your body alone can carry you.
You have to fight smart on the hill. A guy in orange went by me and instantly I knew he was my competition in my age group. How ? He looked like he had to still be in his thirties (all the best 40-somethings are better/younger looking after all) and he had just passed me.
But a funny thing happened on the way to second place in my age group. I passed him back. And this wasn't one of those stupid 'I'll show this guy who's the alpha male' passes. I measured his stride, waited, and went by him at my normal stride- he'd overcooked the hill a little.
I went through the turn- finally I was off the hill. Having been passed on it had shaken my happy thoughts a little, but I had Linkin Park's Bleed It Out swimming in my head (no, I wasn't wearing headphones), and I was in the mix and we took another turn, went up a short way and popped back out on the road. We were on the downhill and I worked. People in the pack going the other way were yelling my name as I went by, while on my side of the road people keep cheering this one kid I was jockeying with.
I ran hard, I passed some people. One guy running with me said' let's go get' the guy in front of us, but I wasn't talking. I was running in that back half of the 5K way I run, where I get big, and not in a good way. I'm a fairly steady runner, but I'm big for my size and when I get tired I run big, which is less efficient.
About halfway back down the hill orange shirt guy passed me and given his cadence, he might as well have staked me in the heart and stuffed my mouth with garlic on the way by. The part of my brain I don't trust (and maybe should) said to try and hop on, but the guy that tries not to blow up in the Ironman marathon has maybe had a little calcification of his race risk muscles.
That's an excuse. Better to say he passed me running well and I didn't rise to a challenge I should have risen to.
I stayed at my pace, jockeyed right into the two turns. I was over 18:00 at three miles.
Damn !
I still ran as hard as I could. I got caught literally in the chute, getting a same time but lower finisher than the teenager alongside me.
I fought off a case of the vomits, grabbed two Guinness tickets, warmed down with Charlie and Mike, then drank.
18:38, 18th overall, second in my age group.
Good enough ? Yes.
Um, no. It's never good enough.
Did I enjoy myself ? Sure. Sometimes it's OK to hold off the performance based self-loathing until later. Especially when there are friends and Guinness.
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