Notes
Ran like a complete fool.
Right before we went out on the track, Coach told us not to go out too fast. Apparently, I completely missed the "not" part.
They line us up on the waterfall in number order, instead of by relative speed. This threw me off a bit. I was #2. The course record holder (Barry) and Doug, who coaches HS Track and beat me in a 5K last year, were way at the tail end of the 'fall. When the gun went off, I wanted to scoot out near the front in lane one without the rest of the runners collapsing on me. Around the first turn I expected Barry to pass me for the lead . . . except he didn't.
Coach was on the loudspeaker, trying to convince this collegiate track crowd, that yes these old farts were running kinda fast for old farts. He was reading off splits and letting me know I was an idiot for being way out in front of the pack. I think the term he used was "commanding lead". I knew what that meant. But my pace felt good -- it felt easier than the 300s I'd been doing in practice, so I thought I might be okay. But i think I passed the 209m mark at 35s or something. Rick yelled out to ask, "what are you doing?". I felt like yelling back, "I don't know! I'm racing!"
Passed the first lap in 72seconds, still feeling fine. (for those of you following along at home, that's 4:45 pace)
Around the 600m mark I could feel the boat anchor my foolishness had become. Barry finally passed me at 900m. I was happy I could tuck in behind someone -- except that the gap between us just grew out of control. I crossed the half 3 seconds behind him at 2:34. That's a 1:22 split, and you can already see it was getting ugly.
The third lap I ran in the swimming pool they installed when I wasn't looking. I could feel the slow-motion interpretive dance of "track star" I was doing. A college kid called out, "Only 600m left!".
4:01. 1:26 split. Ugh-lee.
With 420m to go, Doug had passed me. This was a godsend. I'd been running the entire race out in no-man's land. I did my best to tuck in behind Doug -- or at least just not let him get away. Tucking in behind Doug was my initial plan before the gun went off. He was trying to do 5:20. I figured I could tuck for 3 laps and let him pace me, then take off for the final. Not sure what happened to that plan, but there was Doug. So I gave chase determined to make this a race.
I wasn't tucked as well as I'd like. I was 3m back. My will was the only thing keeping me that close, it certainly it wasn't my legs. But I finally felt better than the lap before. My lungs were on fire, but I didn't feel like I was slowly drowning anymore.
With 100m to go, Doug had opened up a 10m lead. I kicked and kept looking for his kick. It was a race.
I opened my stride, poured gas on the fire, and kept closing. Coach was shouting over the PA rallying the crowd to see the horse race this had just become. I was hoping Doug wasn't listening. Apparently, he wasn't or couldn't do anything about it.
I chested him over the finish line.
5:19.35 (1:18.50). #2 over-all. (#1st was 5:04)
Not sure I could think of a harder way to run that race. The entire walk home, I just kept breaking out in a full throated chuckle at how foolish I was, what Coach must have been thinking, and how much damn fun I had.
Can't wait for next year.