Notes
After a very easy 20-25 minute warmup jog (bundled up to the hilt), and about 30 seconds of stretching, I change into my racing shoes (first time since last year's Sun Run in April), strip off all the extra gear and head for the start line.
I look around. Gary (my main competition...he races about 50 times a year) has positioned himself at the front. Not wanting to be sucked along faster than I feel ready for, I find a spot a few rows deeper. The stage is set.
At the gun, the small mass of humanity surges forward, elbows flying, cardiac chambers pumping like crazy. Not a good place for the faint of heart... (eh-hem).
Gary quickly opens up a gap, and by 400m into the race he probably has 10-12 seconds on me. But I'm just fine with this. My game plan is so far working...
At the top of the first long, gradual hill we pass the 2 km marker just at the turn-around cone. Gary has built up about a 15 second lead on me. I'm still fine.
The next 4-500m is a gradual downhill, and I let my legs stretch out a bit. They feel OK. At about 2.5 km the course turns abruptly right, and the longest, toughest hill of the race begins.
I keep my gaze fixed on Gary's bald spot, and slowly but surely it gets closer...and closer. By the top of the hill, probably some 300m long, his advantage is down to maybe 8-10 seconds.
My gut is telling me I'll get him. Just bide my time...don't go nuts.
We begin the pleasant meander through the forest along the narrow road/gravel path section of the course. It has some icy and heavy frost-covered bits where the tree cover momentarily opens, and you have to watch your footing. But the legs and chest are all feeling pretty good today, so I keep the hammer down...just enough. Gary stays about 8 seconds ahead, but I can sense he's starting to fade slightly. I take stock of how I feel: totally in control. Quite different from two weeks ago at Cedar when I was hanging on for dear life, and not doing very well at it!
The course enters the forest again, and we charge along delightful but somewhat muddy single track, up another hill I'd completely forgotten about (it's been a few years since I ran this race!), then back onto the dirt road. I see the 2 km marker... Gary is now exactly where I want him. His advantage is now down to maybe 6 seconds. We start the final long downhill. Our gap remains the same, but somehow, shortly after the downhill levels out, he's right in front of me. I think to myself: he's cooked it. My body is telling me it's getting close to redline, but I'm still in control...
At the 7 km marker I decide to pass him. My brain is trying to remember where the hell the finish is... We don't seem to be on the road I remember finishing on in years past. In a few seconds I realize that's because we're NOT on the same road! They must have changed the course!! Without my glasses I'm squinting to see how far down the road I need to hang on... it looks like maybe 350m?? This is going to hurt.
300m....200m... I sense a tall, lanky train coming up on my left. A quick partial glance over and I see Gary's PIH singlet, and it's coming fast. Damn...I thought he was toast 2 km back!
150m... 100m... we're both just givin' 'er...
I suddenly have a sense of quiet serenity...like this is all meant to be. I know it's my time.
After we cross the finish line, I walk for a few moments to get my breath and collect my thoughts on what had just transpired. Despite the lousy weather, despite the painful knot in my mid-back that had kept me awake most of the night, despite my arthritic knee and all the other excuses...I had just run a freakin' great race! In fact, I was feeling pretty ecstatic!
The 15 second advantage had turned into a one second deficit.