“Well, THAT sucked” (Read 541 times)

That was the finishing line quote you would have heard from me had you been present for the Children’s Memorial 5K last Sunday. This was a race I had hoped to do very well in, since it took place in my hometown, and over part of my weekly club run route. I had just PR’ed last week at a 4 mile race, with a 9:25 pace (37:39), so I was hoping planning to finish this one closer to 9:10s thanks to the shorter distance and course familiarity. (My tell-no-one goal was to break 28:00) My previous best at this distance was in May, at 32:28. The day started beautifully, with my alarm clock waking me up at 6:30 for an 8:30 race 10 minutes from my home. Except that my clock is one of those that is preprogrammed to “automatically” adjust for Daylight Savings Time, and since it hasn’t received a personal trip from my Congressman to adjust it to work with the new law, it fell back overnight. So the true time is now 7:30 AM. Damn. Up, shower, dress, eat, water, out the door. Maybe we can get there by 8:00 to register. Except I forgot my Garmin and had to go back for it halfway to the race (sorry about those red lights, officer!) 8:16 - Arrival time at the race. I register, my wife parks the car, and I got for a SHORT warmup run (like, less than a tenth of a mile before they call for start line assembly. I meet my running club members and we all wish each other luck. Promptly at 8:30 the race starts. The first K - Up a short, steep hill, into the center of town, and past our beautiful green. Everybody started out too fast, but I was able to get myself under control and at a 9:20 -9:30 pace pretty quickly, which was right where I wanted to be. I remember thinking “Cool. This feels very comfortable. I could do this for miles.” Right. The second K – My shins started complaining. Uh oh. This happened a couple of weeks ago, too, and I was forced to walk to make it go away, and did not get close to the time I wanted there. I did not have time for a warmup with that one either. A dull ache is now running up through the muscles on both sides of my shin, on both legs. But, no walking today – HTFU and run through it, I said out loud – and got a few funny stares from my fellow runners as a result. I drew on my training, and kept reminding myself that that most small aches & pains go away if you ignore them. Deal with it and keep going. 1.5 miles (about) – the water stop (both the shoreline view and the refreshments versions). Well, the pain did not go away. In fact, it went from dull aches to searing pain that just got worse with each step. I stopped and walked the water stop, then attempted to stretch the offending (and offended) muscles. It helped – some. The next mile or so went pretty much the same – run a couple of tenths, stop at a light pole, stretch the lower legs, run again. My pace had slowed to 10:40 or so, not counting the stretch stops. The last K – Off the water, and up the last steep, short hill on the course, then turn toward home. At this point I was really ticked off at my legs, my clock, and my lack of warmup. My goal times were out the window, and my chance for a PR was even dwindling fast. Legs screaming, I stopped checking my pace and just started to pick up pace slowly. (Relentless. Forward. Motion. kept going through my head for some reason). A woman ahead of me asks the volunteers if we’re in the last mile. I gut past her, saying “The last K”, through gritted teeth and forced rhythmic breathing. As I leave her behind, I hear “What’s a K?”. Just keep picking people off, I think. Next, a couple who had been running and walking off and on since before we hit the shoreline. I passed them on the downhill to the boatyard, and hit the last straightaway. I knew this was my last real chance to pick off anyone, since the course finished by going over a narrow pedestrian bridge and down the bridge wheelchair ramp to the end. Barely enough room for two to walk side by side, let alone pass. About 100 yards or so ahead I see a guy who must be in my age group, judging by the slightly graying hair that matched mine pretty well. He’s wearing a navy blue shirt that says “We’re Back!” with the number 3 below it. I have no idea what it means, but all I can think is “You’re Back – In back of me by the time I hit that bridge”. Three tenths to go (I remember this from my club runs) and my legs are hurting so bad I’m afraid to look down for fear I’ll see bone sticking out. I think “it’s just one lap on a track – you can do this! Turnover, Turnover, Turnover!!!” I think there were probably a few silent HTFUs and some audible groans in there as well. Gaining, gaining, gaining. As we pass the Simon Lake submarine monument, 20 yards to the bridge, I pass him, and manage a thanks to the officers and XC kids directing the runners and cars, then hit the bridge. Despite the pain, I felt like that little kid in “Meatballs”, darting in front of his opponent right before they enter the woods. Coming down the wheelchair ramp, I can see the clock, and it’s ticking 32:15, 32:16, 32:17. I give it whatever I have left, trying to catch two more girls in front of me running side by side. Several more steps, and I know I won’t be able to pass them, but the time is still in reach if I finish right behind them. 32:24, 32:25, 32:26 – I’ll make it. And then 5 feet from the line, the two girls STOP AND WALK. I have no room to pass them into the chute without knocking them over. It’s all I can do to not plow into them (and for a split second I thought about it.) I see the time click to 32:29 as I cross… and utter the line at the top. The morals of this story – Warmups are essential if I expect to race well, and ALWAYS set a second alarm clock. Hopefully I can put those lessons to use next weekend. I think I’ll go ice my shins some more now.

you'll smash it next time! And I would have plowed right through the 2 girls. Not to be mean or anything, but usually the last bit of a 5K my mind is so focused on the finish that my brain would not process STOP in time to actually make my body obey.

We all have bad races. They feel real sucky at the time but you learn from them. You will be a better racer from it...