Would you describe the 15k course as particularly hilly and arduous? And how did Demers injure himself? Last I heard he was taking off the rest of October from running following LPR10.
The day before the CAASA Step By Step 5k, there was some regional championship series for high school cross country. And then, on the very morning of the HSMC Thanksgiving 5k, many high schoolers were off competing in the Battle of the Potomac. Thus there were two races in a row in which I completely lucked out over not having to confront any significant youth competition --- and thus there were two races in a row that I handily won. It was all too fitting then that, after winning easily thanks to HS XC scheduling conflicts twice, the third racing occasion would be a day of great high school reckoning. Because it seemed like virtually every runner in SMAC was jostling toward the front when the many hundreds of participants (over 1000 people registered this year!) began lining up before the start of the 2012 Solomons Jingle Bell 5k. Speaking of which, it felt nothing like a Jingle Bell event has felt like before. Nowhere to be found were the blustery cold temperatures and arctic headwinds. Rather I was sweat-damp in shorts and T-shirt after warming up on this foggy, moist morning. It was almost in the mid-50s out! Meanwhile technical difficulties were rampant, and as Kelly and Greg and the other organizers tried to keep their stress in check, computer hold ups delayed the intended 8:30 a.m. start by a startling 6 minutes. So pre-race tension was almost unbearably drawn out as I hopped up and down countless times to stay loose whilst crammed up amongst many young runners. There was no David Strickland --- Perry had made me aware of that on the eve of battle --- but there was his Patuxent High School rival: Trent Herzog. After hearing reports of his stellar sophomore XC season, I knew that he would be the guy to beat ("Hinder and/or Halt Herzog" and "Trample Trent" were naturally my race mantras). Ah, but what fine sportsmanship Trent shows, as he made a point to greet me in the minutes leading up to start. I asked him if he was shooting for sub-17:00, and I was daunted by how matter of factly he answered in the affirmative. My ambitions, diminished by the deterioration that occurred during each of my previous 5ks, weren't much more than hoping to hit the 3-mile mark sub-17:00 (after reaching it in 17:07 at Step By Step and 17:00-flat at HSMC Thanksgiving), and ensuring that Perry wouldn't encroach any further on me than he did at CAASA (when he finished just 21 seconds back!).I let the youngsters have a couple moments of start stampede glee before I really blasted off and assumed the lead down the Holiday Inn drive. Taking the left turn onto Rt. 2 S very tight, I looked for Trent on my right --- and was thrown off by how he still managed to show up on my left. Perhaps there were other eager runners up there with us in the early minutes of the race; it's hard to recall. But before even the half-mile mark I'd say that it was quite apparent that the race --- as in THE race (to win) --- was solely between me and Trent. We were flying like fools. I'm not sure what time I had at 0.25 miles or 0.5 miles, but I did note 3:47 at 0.75 miles. And then of course I beeped off the opening mile in 5:14. I opened the Young Life 5k last May (another race that I won with ease thanks to a high school running event scheduling conflict) with a 5:18 initial mile, but somehow this Jingle Bell 5:14 kick off seemed distinctly more outrageous (perhaps because technically the only time I've ever run a faster "mile" is when I ran a 5:12 1600 with Phil as the 2nd interval of my memorable 3 X 1600 set {5:15, 5:12, 5:17 ... unconnected by recoveries and rather had generous respites in between} before Hospice last April).What was remarkably clear was what a difference conditions can make. Both Step By Step and HSMC Thanksgiving had been besieged by temperatures in the low 40s and heinously harsh headwinds --- the kind of blustery, bitter conditions that make my quads lock up terribly as slowing fatigue sets in severely (hence how, at CAASA, I went from a 5:21 opening mile to a 5:47 2nd mile). But now it was in the 50s, the air had a slight humidity to it, and the breeze was minimal. In other words, it was an ideal scenario for furious speed. Now, I was feeling some pain; every few steps it felt like my legs could seize up and I might fall over, but I was on top of all that. A prevailing strength was coursing through me, making me feel in full command of my faculties despite the breakneck pace, and indeed I felt as though I were on my way to running the fantastic 5k that I always knew I had in me (or wanted to believe that I had in me). Oh, and there was actually a police SUV leading us, and it was giving me a sense of claustrophobia because at several moments I felt like I was about to run straight into the back of it (just like how I felt I was on the verge of stepping on lead cyclist Jim Swift's rear tire during the opening mile of the LPR10). "[This police vehicle] needs to speed up!" I barked back to Trent.In previous 5ks I've been so concerned with achieving the opening mile in the 5:20s that I neglect the significance of the 1st quarter-mile of mile 2. I didn't forget this time, though, and shooting for <6:45 for mile 1.25 helped me continue to keep Trent at bay as we neared the U-turn placed right at the Y of the island. Now, back during my fleeting lead over the initial miles of the LPR10, I had the clear sense that Brandon Demers was merely biding his time, and that he would easily assume the lead when the time was right. I didn't get that sense whilst leading young Mr. Herzog. Rather I felt that we, too equally matched, were locked in something of a racing standoff, and that one of us could only gain an advantage if the other were to make a grave tactical mistake. He seemed desperate to keep up, and I was desperately wondering how I was going to keep keeping up of him. Anyway, I reached the U-turn first, taking it very delicately on account of the general slickness of the pavement, and then I blasted back the way I'd just come --- truly. My pace graph indicates that my biggest surge of the race, even faster than my opening charge, came immediately after the U-turn. There was a purpose for this, and that was to clear 1.5 miles sub-8:00 for the first time ever (I've never run a 2400m interval sub-8:00 before), with a second or two to spare.There was no way that I was going to let Trent make a move along that stretch from the U-turn to the right turn onto Alexander St (the lead police SUV quit at that point and remained parked by the turn). We were in the face-to-face audience of the moving multitudes! Sadly there's no denying that Trent was a LOT more popular than me. While a mere handful of people hailed me by name, Trent was frankly famous. But of course he had many teammates, family members, and miscellaneous fans amidst the resplendent ranks of runners, joggers, and walkers, and their enthusiasm clearly gave him something of a home field advantage. Soon enough, however, we were away from the great collective jogging beast and onto quiet Calvert St following the right onto Alexander St. I took both of those turns first, just as I was the first to take the left onto C St --- and just as I would be the second to take all turns on the course thereafter. There was no C St turn on the course!If I were to cite the most pleasing takeaway from this race, it would be that I achieved mile 2 (the mark of which fell shortly after the left turn onto Calvert) in 10:46, an unofficial PR (my previous best for "2 miles" was that 10:53 3200m I pulled off last May). Alas I was perhaps too pleased by this, because that satisfaction seemed to cloud my focus on what remained to be done --- and my perception of where I was precisely. Hanging a hard left, I was at first bewildered when Trent spoke up and said he didn't think we were supposed to turn here. I actually started to argure with him until, in a moment of terrible clarity that invoked demons of the 2010 Crofton Kiwanis 10k, I realized that we were in fact at the intersection of Calvert St and C St, not Calvert St and Langley Ln (those two intersections do look awfully similar, I'll insist in my defense), and that the JB event arrow hung from the stop sign was pointing up (i.e., a indication to keep going straight), not left. Wailing a four-letter word (don't tell Scott!), I twisted around to get back on course --- but it was too late. For while Trent had kindly treaded for a moment to clarify cartography for me, he then immediately seized the opportunity to exploit my egregious error by surging onward before I could even get back on track. And just like that, one moment I'd been holding onto a tenuous lead with less than a mile left to go in the 5k, and the next I found myself trailing by several significant seconds. In reality that whole episode at the C St intersection had gone by in a flash, but it must be understood that our race was so incredibly tight that even a minor stumble could prove disastrous to the runner on the unfortunate side of the situation. Think of it like this: had I committed that same error during the 2010 Jingle Bell 5k, when the course also followed that same Alexander St/Calvert St/Langley Ln pattern, that would've been all Joe would've needed to negate my 2-second advantage and net nip me (if not pull past me and beat me to the finish line outright). And though I can't speak for how I influenced Trent exactly, there's no doubt that I'd been benefitting majorly from his pushing --- and suddenly I was bereft of that.It's a long, long stretch from the right turn onto the main road off Langley to the right turn back onto the Holiday Inn drive (no medical center interlude this year). And it was along this lengthy segment that the promise of my opening 2 miles faded into lackluster racing mediocrity. Reflections on this third and final act of the race are rife with what-could-have-beens; had I stayed straight at C St, would I have continued to keep Trent at bay or at least have held the lead most of the rest of the way, perhaps setting us up for a finishing kick showdown? I'd like to think that, but taking youth and sprinting prowess into consideration highlights the likelihood that, no matter what, the advantage would've tipped toward Trent's favor the closer we got to the finish line. Fueled by the scent of almost certain victory, he did indeed unleash some serious speed whilst passing Roy Rogers and the shopping plaza --- just as fatigue was overtaking me. He cast quite a few glances back, looking more and more giddily satisfied each time. Last year that had been me looking back at him and his fellow high schoolers (except they were trailing me more significantly at the end, so ha!).I hadn't forgotten splits. Ever since I first thought I had a chance at a sub-17:00 5k at CAASA 2011 (when I ended up with 17:36), I've longed to hit mile 2.75 <15:00 --- that most crucial checkpoint necessary for achieving mile 3 by 16:20 (and thereby getting in range to break 17:00) --- but have usually found myself laughably over 15:00 at 2.75 miles. Well this time I believe I checked it off in 15:01. Then it should've been all about a mad dash to reach mile 3 no later than 16:20, but I don't think I fully recognized the potential; I was mainly bent on <16:30, as my previous 3-mile best was 16:33 back at the Young Life 5k. Oh, and somehow this truck hauling farm equipment or similar on a trailer wagon got between me and Trent, and it was annoyingly hugging the shoulder and bullying my progress. I still kicked early nonetheless to ensure a sub-16:30 3-mile time, and what an odd trend it is that this was my 3rd consecutive 5k in which my 3rd mile was distinctly the slowest (at least 5:39 is a good deal better than the 5:58 I concluded Step By Step with). Except I had no heinous headwind to blame this time. Coming down the final straightaway, watching Trent go in for the win, it was a bit like the end of the LPR10 where I saw the seconds slipping away from me (this time toward 17:00 rather than 58:00) but felt a fleeting flicker of a chance enduring, if I could just push it --- except I didn't know how this course was going to measure up. It seemed I'd beeped for mile 3 awfully late in the race. Thus crossing the line sub-17:00 didn't carry quite the emotional impact I always thought it would, as my final Forerunner measurement was indeed on the light side (though notably heavier than the 3.06 miles I ended up with at the HSMC Thanksgiving 5k). Still, I'd made it to mile 3 under 16:30 and, by crossing the line at 16:53, I had 6 seconds to spare ahead of 17:00, so if what I ran at this Jingle Bell wasn't an honest to goodness sub-17:00 5k effort, then I could've only been off by the most miniscule of margins (if, say, 0.03 of a mile had been added to the course, I still could've come in under 17:05). But there's no denying the improvement over my previous two events. I actually had virtually the same distance reading at CAASA (3.1 miles vs. 3.09 miles), and yet nonetheless I took 45 seconds off in 5 weeks.Trent greeted me with great magnanimous respect in the finish chute (to think that I finished behind him by virtually the same amount that I finished ahead of him at Hospice, when we both ran way slower races), and he is indeed an outstanding young man who deserved the win (both for knowing how to follow a course better and for picking the pace back up in the final mile rather than lagging). So I was at peace. Then after a memorable and adventurous group cool down, I changed into warm, dry clothes and went into the grand hotel lobby to enjoy the good yuletide mirth of the post-race assembly. There was a spread of nutty and blueberry mini-muffins on the tables and lo! the preliminary results had been printed and posted to the walls. I skipped over, very eager to see a race result starting with 16 by my name for the first time ever --- and my blood about froze when I stood up on my tippy toes to get a closer look at the results over the throng of people gathered before them. In 1st place there was Trent Herzog at 16:41, indeed. And then in 2nd place there was David Raley at ... 17:08?!? If anything, I'd hoped that my net time might've taken me down to 16:52, but instead the sensor equipment had elected to ADD FIFTEEN seconds to my time. It was almost as though the chip timing technology had conspired with my pre-race insecurities to say, "No, you don't deserve 16:53. You'll never run sub-17:00!"In truth, many peoples' times had been skewed by the haywire technology (my only theory is that I may have been standing too close to the sensors while I was talking with Trent in the chute immediately after the race, and that the sensors were possibly continuing to sense my bib chip --- even though I'd already passed under the trestle), and all I had to do was talk to Kelly after the awards ceremony to request a fix (a non-controversial fix since the nearest finisher after me was Shane at 17:50, and therefore me getting adjusted from 17:08 to 16:53 didn't affect the placement order ... and also there's good photographic evidence of me finishing 11-12 seconds post-Trent, and clearly not 27 seconds after him). Now, it may seem vain for me to care about this, as self-satisfaction should be enough, but technology robbed me of that grand moment of public recognition earned by my finish time. When Trent's winning time of 16:41 was announced, you could feel the awe spreading through the room. So of course if my M19-29 age group winning time had been announced properly as 16:53, many might've remarked, "Oh, well that guy wasn't too far behind the winner at all." But instead Kelly called me up to receive a red JB headband by merit of a far less sensational sounding 17:08. Then of course there was the poignance of an undefended championship. Last year I'd owned all, and therefore had the right to exhibit the most swagger of anyone gathered in the Holiday Inn lobby for the 2011 Solomons Jingle Bell 5k post-race awards ceremeony. This year, alas, I was reduced to a humble age group placer --- no matter that I'd led over 2/3rds of the race. Then again, I just had a pair of victories, along with several others over the past year or so (including the previous edition of this very event!). So at what point does one become too much of a greedy grinch for gold? And as illustrated earlier, Trent had many teammates, family members, and friends/fans present, and his victory was naturally a great cause for celebration among them. Would I really have wanted to deny them all such a joyful Saturday morning just so that I could nab a fiendish repeat victory? No, I got to enjoy enough Jingle Bell glory for myself last year. I'll always have last year.
The fall off between your miles in your races is like mine now. I usually go fastest the first mile, the second mile is my second fastest mile, and my third mile is my slowest. Up until these past three races, I always thought of you going out really hard in teh first mile, fading a lot in the second mile, then recovering in the third mile, so that you first mile was your fastest, your second mile was your slowest, and your third mile was your second fastest, but it seems you have gone away from that model.
At Step By Step and HSMC Thanksgiving I could definitely blame the extreme headwind for my final miles being reduced to rubble --- but this time I'd say it had more to do with suddenly being severed from the race to win, which was a major blow to my motivation. Then again, after following a 5:14 mile immediately with a 5:32 mile for a 10:46 2-mile time, it's hard to imagine a scenario in which I wouldn't have become frankly fatigued in the 3rd mile.
Evidence of how that false time announcement at the awards ceremony warped peoples' perception of my race: my mother has a couple coworkers who ran in this Jingle Bell 5k, and of them remarked to her, "David did well, finishing 2nd. He was less than a minute behind that high school kid!"
That's a boss of a race. I'm glad Trent was there to keep you motivated. It's unlikely you would have run that fast without competition motivating you. Also, it could have taken longer to realize your turn mistake without somebody yelling to the contrary nearby. For what it's worth he likely won't feel 100% satisfied with his race and wonder for a long time whether you might have beaten him otherwise.
MTA: The official online results have you at 16:53, so at least you have that.
Indeed, had the situation been reversed and Trent been the one to take a race-surrendering wrong turn, I'd be left with the gnawing notion that I might've only won through a twist of fate (like a less extreme version of the Robbie Miles 5k 2008, when I suddenly advanced from 5th to 1st place thanks to the lead pack of 4 young guys all taking a wrong turn up ahead --- a wrong turn I was saved from taking myself only thanks to the intercession of Perry, who bellowed "Straight!" from a ways back). All the same I imagine that my presence helped make Trent's victory feel more worthwhile for him. Had I not been there, he could've breezed to an easy victory --- whereas the way he actually kept looking back toward the end indicated that he could scarcely believe that his dreams of Jingle Bell glory were poised to come true. And then if Trent had taken a cue from Strickland and sat this one out, I think I would've won fairly handily yet likely with a slower finish time (without the insistence of Herzog's hustle, I might've run the opening mile in 5:25 and the next in 5:45).
Joe are you back to running?
I felt our rivalry helped me a lot from the Crofton 10K. Maybe we can get a competition going for the spring races. The marathon is both of our target races, but lets be realistic, if you pull your stuff together, you'll beat me in a marathon even if I get my act together. Maybe the Hospice 10K is a good race to have a competition as the 10K is a distance that gives us each a fair shot of winning if we are in shape.
Phil you should take your beef with Joe to the Upcoming Races thread (though I absolutely support the marathon rivalry).
The final fleeting moments of my lean lead over Trent.
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Galen Rupp ran a very good mile this afternoon. But Mary Cain ran an awesome mile at the same time.
It's a 5k. It hurt like hell...then I tried to pick it up. The end.
That's a phenomenal time, but I have to wonder just how well she was able to concentrate on her SAT test considering the tremendous track challenge looming just a few hours ahead of her.
For Rupp that is his fastest mile indoors or outdoors. For Cain it is her fastest indoor time but she has faster outdoor times.
Ultimately Rupp went from a good professional runner to an elite professional runner by increasing his speed. I think Salaazar really developed both Farah and Rupp's speed as they were both good priror to 2010, but lacked that killer speed that they have. The fact that Rupp ran a 3:50 indoors indicates that his speed is legitimate now.
Just a post-race anecdote. After my cool down, I sat down on a bench next to Scott Herzog as we ate hot soup (just about the best food they could've offered us considering the bitter conditions). "So Trent and Rachel weren't up for a half-marathon today?" I asked. He explained that they would've liked to come, but they're both caught up in the climactic final events of the indoor track season --- and that their not coming today made him shy away from his initial carpooling offer. I hadn't requested any carpooling services from him, but you may have noticed that the carpooling requests of that girl Faith on the CBRC Facebook went unanswered, which seemed odd to me. The thing was, it would've been just Scott and Faith riding together, and Mrs. Herzog evidently would not have been cool with her husband driving off with some random young woman (I think I spotted her at the event today, and she looks mid-20s-ish). So Scott just had to discreetly leave Faith to her own driving devices.
Ok, on a less Banter-y Race Results note, let me just say that this course was NOT conducive to negative splits. Check out the elevation chart on the map of my log entry. Seeing that, it's not so surprising that mile 11 to mile 12.5 was my weakest portion of the race. But we were, after all, running downriver the whole way out, so terrain logic would dictate that the way back would be more ... upriverish.
MTA: preliminary results give me 1:19:27 --- meaning exactly 3:00 off my Frederick 2011 time!
I’d already accepted that I wasn’t going to make it to the race. It was quite nearly 8 a.m., meaning there would likely not be sufficient time to backtrack and attempt to right my driving course. Rather I would soon have to figure out how I would eventually make it home that day (my gas tank was fairly full, but with the way things were going it seemed like I might very well end up in Philadelphia before I knew it). I must admit, though, that knowing I wasn’t going to get to race didn’t leave me as crestfallen as one would think. The morning was bitter cold, and I’d coughed the night away. Mainly I was thinking about how embarrassing it would be to admit to everyone that that I didn’t make it to the race (which cost $50 to register for!) simply because I couldn’t follow the directions for getting there. I could almost hear the voice of Phil chiding me for not having a driving GPS.
You see, the directions had instructed me to follow I-95 S into Virginia and then merge onto I-495 W. Except when the big branch off was nigh, the choice was 95 S to the left or 495 N to the right. Was 495 N basically the same thing as 495 W?? With but seconds to make my decision, I branched right --- and soon grew increasingly certain that I’d screwed up. Every sign I saw simply seemed wrong. But lo! just when I’d all but abandoned hope, I beheld the blessed sign for Clara Barton Parkway (a key component of my route). Then within moments I was crossing a bridge back into Maryland, Exit 41 took me onto Clara Barton, and after just two illegal driving moves (using a “service/emergency vehicles only” cut across and then U-turning at a light clearly marked with a no U-turns sign) I figured out the tricky access into Carderock Park. I’d arrived, and would have to race after all. And it really was a cold (as I was driving along 495, my loaner car’s thermometer had gotten up to 31 degrees, making me think that things wouldn’t be so bad --- but the temperature reading had plummeted back into the 20s by the time I achieved the park … must be something to do with proximity to the Potomac rapids) though sharply sunny Sunday morning.
“Do we go left or right?” I asked the guy wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and Vibram FiveFingers “shoes” who was standing next to me at the start. “Right,” he said. I believe that the Snapple High Cloud Half Marathon at one time started right in the middle of the C&O Canal Towpath, but now (in order to cause less trail congestion, I presume) it begins and ends on a path access natural ramp of sorts. That means starting on a steep uphill but then almost immediately making a sharp right turn to head south on the towpath. Anyway, though I was wearing a long-sleeve North Face shirt beneath my Chaptico Classic technical T-shirt, my shorts were very short. I’d fretted over how my mostly bare legs would fare in the frigid air, but ultimately I determined that pants would be too constricting for racing purposes. Plus my warm up and subsequent striding and jogging had helped me forget that the temperature was below 30 degrees --- except we, 201 strong, were held at the start for several minutes longer than I’d anticipated. There was a patriotic duty to fulfill, and I did my best to discreetly stay loose whilst standing in place as the National Anthem played via recording.
There was no gleeful starting stampede, just me taking off much more insistently than anyone else. Truly, the gapping was almost instantaneous. I saw the pace on my watch go down toward 5:30/mi, and I had to say to myself, “This is not a 10k, nor a 10-miler, but rather there are THIRTEEN miles to go so conserve energy!” No one else seemed to have any intention of going out hard, and I soon had to wonder if I was setting myself up to look like a rabbiting fool in a couple miles when some of the more experienced half marathon runners --- like Karsten Brown! --- might reap the benefits of their restrained starts and pass me as I succumbed to lactic acid. That seemed like a real threat a half-mile into this half marathon, for when I looked back I beheld a whole host of more disciplined runners still holding together.
Pacing was a precise matter of trying to hold to a narrow middle ground --- rather symbolic of the rock-ridden, hard-packed snow-covered canal towpath itself, which was often little more than a causeway with the land falling away steeply on either side; to the roaring Potomac on the right and the mostly frozen over canal on the left (I was stunned when the first canal ice skater came along, but after I’d seen the third or fourth skater {including one kid with a hockey stick} I concluded that it must be a common C&O Canal winter pastime). Every time I started getting carried away with a 10k/10-miler mindset (<5:45/mi), I would rein myself in … only to then slip to what was essentially a steady state rate (>6:15/mi). Per my goal, narrowly sub-6:00/mi was the ideal. Yet I actually managed to run the opening 2 miles in 11:44 with relative ease (surely the generally downhill nature of the first few miles boosted me). But then, with the exception of that 6:00-flat flub for the 4th mile, I held the next 4 miles right under the 6:00/mi wire, which maintained the approximately 15-second cushion (under 12:00, 18:00, 24:00, 30:00, etc.) I’d built up in miles 1 and 2.
I really tried not to declare myself the victor of this half marathon too soon; for all I knew, Karsten might have been using this race as a split effort tempo in which he’d head out a deliberate 6:15/mi pace and then blast back at a fierce 5:30/mi effort. Surely someone was going to start drawing me in and make things interesting at some point. Well it might not have even been mile 5 when I looked back and saw … no one. This was decidedly disconcerting at first, as it gave me the gnawing sense that, even though the canal path is linear, I might have somehow gone astray (a la my devastating left turn onto C St back during the Jingle Bell 5k). I’d taken a quick lead in this race, yes, but it seemed absurd that I could’ve gapped everyone so significantly when the U-turn remained a fair ways ahead. Thankfully I soon came upon a course water station, which reassured me that I had not gone wildly off course. Meanwhile the trail was heavily populated with runners, walkers, and cyclists not affiliated with the race, and their presence undeniably threw off my ability to track pursuing competitors.
When I finally espied the U-turn way up yonder, it was a delight to look at my Forerunner and see that it would fall just where it should. Anything under 6.55 or over 6.6 would’ve been dismaying, but sure enough it fell right in the midst of that range, and I carved the cone (after crossing the most dangerous part of the course, a narrow concrete bridge covered with actual ice patches) right about 39:15. That of course meant that even splits would bring me back in 1:18:30 --- on the verge of a <6:00/mi average pace. So I was right on track at the mid-mark. Then as I commenced the return journey it didn’t actually seem like such a long time until Karsten and cohorts greeted me (though when I checked the time I calculated that he would probably be reaching the U-turn at least a minute after I had). And thus began the seemingly endless reception line for the destined champion. I was greeting the hundreds (200 exactly) of slower runners face to face until nigh mile 10! Ever so many of them extended me cheers and exultations of encouragement, and along some stretches I seemed to be smiling and nodding in acknowledgement virtually nonstop.
A 6:04 for mile 7 was frustrating, but I chalked it up to the momentum mangling of the U-turn, which I’d taken very delicately on account of the ubiquitous snow, ice, and slush. Another 6:04 for mile 8 made me realize that I needed to worry less about individual sub-6:00 splits and rather focus on making it to the next mile mark on pace (e.g., hit mile 9 under 54:00) --- except then yet another 6:04 for mile 9 caused the total elimination of my sub-6:00/mi cushion. I was now barely hanging on to goal pace! Well, if there was one crucial check point on my course to a <6:00/mi half marathon, it was achieving mile 10 in under an hour. Yet though I surged hard at mile 9.5, just missing 57:00, and then surged even hard at the end of the mile, what should my time at 10 miles have been but … 1:00:00! Because of a fourth consecutive 6:04 mile split, sure enough. Little did I know that 6:04 mile splits would soon look enviable compared to what I was poised to start running.
So, I failed to crack 60:00 for 10, but I was in the final stretch and a sub-18:30 concluding 5k did not seem unreasonable. Not until I started becoming more aware of elevation, that is. Obviously, as the entire trip out had been downriver, the way back would be all upriver. In purely natural terrain this would only have accounted for the most subtle of elevation changes, but we were running along a manmade canal --- which of course meant that the trail routinely passed by canal locks, and every one of these locks mandated a rise in the trail. Never an incline of any significance, mind you, but rather an onslaught of one modest bump up after another. Coupled with having run for over an hour on the unforgiving surface of the winter gritty trail and continuing to endure the temperatures that remained bitingly cold (I was wearing a good pair of gloves, but they were inevitably rendered damp by all the fluid cups I’d grabbed, and toward the end of the race that dampness had turned to pure iciness), those frequent rises were killing me. I longed for just one good long stretch of flatness.
Alas, while a 6:10 for mile 11 badly hurt my <6:00/mi overall pace ambitions, a 6:16 for mile 12 all but crippled them (I basically would’ve had to whip out a 5:30 for the final mile). I found myself dearly wishing that my 17-mile steady state from two weekends prior, which was supposed to conclude with an extra fast finish, had gone better. Not to mention that 7-mile time that didn’t happen at all due to my sickness during the first week of the year. I was contented, though, knowing that I was still a lock for a sub-1:20:00 finish and thus an HM PR by multiple minutes despite very non-PR-like conditions. But I still desperately needed to crack 6:00 --- if only by a second! --- to avenge the previous couple miles. “This is all for the marathon,” I goaded myself. “If you can’t push it in after 12 miles, how will you possibly be able to do so after 25?” My legs had no good answer, and a 6:09 13th mile had to suffice.
Had I not been wearing a Forerunner and constantly monitoring my progress, I might’ve been worried about running right by the left turnoff for the finish. But that would’ve been impossible. For what should I, now plodding with frightful fatigue and wracked with pain due to the searing numbness of my icy left hand, have beheld up ahead but a great congregation of cheering spectators gathered across the trail by the turnoff. They were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the finishers --- except, as far as anyone looking down the trail could tell, there was only one finisher to see. Me!
Train hard; win easily. Congratulations!
I should get that T-shirt.