Notes
Temp 49 Wind 8 mph. Humidity 63% Dew Point 39 degrees.
OK, I'm going to act real immature, I'm going to vent, I'm going to cuss, and I'm probably going to be banned from this site. I am pissed!! Here goes.
Preface: Some confusion last year. Hammer won overall after making wrong turn and running long route back. I was third, but not before a race official let me make a wrong turn (following the cones) and had to turn around. This year, I'm prepared. I print out a map and bring so someone can show me course. No one knows it except RD and he's out putting out cones. Talk to him right before we start. He explains course, little different, but says its marked this year and says there will be official or cones at every turn. Great. (Also see the problem with why course was short last year, they had us turn off Baseline Road one block too soon. Hammer long because they let him turn two blocks early.)
This year, with Hammer and Del out, I'm not only looking for a PR, but an OA win as well. Hammer here, but not racing. I'm pretty sure a sub-20 is a given, but he's expecting a sub-19 out of me. Gonna let it rip and see what happens. I remember hitting the turnaround point last year at about 9:30. Set the Garmin to alert me every 4:45. Maybe running alone, so should be able to tell if (1) my first mile is too slow, and (2) if I've hit the turnaround with a shot at sub-19.
We start and I break out in second after first turn. Younger kid in front of me, but his stride looks sloppy and I'm thinking he's not going to hold it long. I pass him about 1/3 mile in before we hit Baseline Road for the out and back. I'm running alone, maybe a little fast, but its mainly flat, I'll survive minor pacing errors. 1st alert and I'm thinking I'm not THAT far from mile split (miles are not marked.) I hear chirp and know I may be fast, but again, who cares, its flat. (Mile split was 6:05).
Started to feel the effects of running 1st mile a little too fast, but still feel strong. Hit turnaround point. I've probably got close to 45 seconds to a minute on the rest of the field. Second alert has not gone off. Race is all mine, now running for PR with an outside shot at sub-19. (Mile two split 6:18...I'm at 12:23 for two miles.) Could feel myself slowing down some here and there, but tried to lock in and hold pace as fast as possible.
Back to town on Baseline Road. No cone, but race official at Kennett Street turn. Directs me right. Go another block and another race official is standing in middle of road across intersection talking on cell phone. I know we have to make another left, but this soon?? Look at her, I point to the left and get no reaction. RD said, "Cones or official at every turn." I go left. Remember making left right before finish last year. Think its next block, no. We turned on different street last year, maybe next block, no?? OK, this fat ass woman was yakking on her cell phone and turned me wrong, I'm two blocks down the road, look for park, run to finish line wherever it is, I'll still beat the rest of the field, and have a Garmin to show I've ran further than 3.11 miles. Think park is to my right, turn, still don't see it. Keep thinking its next street, but they're dead ends. Hear third alert during all this. (Mile three spit is 6:25...I'm at 18:48 for three miles. Know I've slowed some because I was looking for which way to go and not focused on running. No sub-19, but slam dunk 0:15 - 0:20 second PR). Had made another turn or two?? Not sure way back if stopped and turned around. Went into fog running looking for park. All pissed off now. Looked at Garmin, had run 3.28 miles and I still don't know where I am or where the park is. Finally hit highway and stopped, turn around and start walking.
Get back to park. Think its best just to get wife, get in car and leave before I embarrass myself. Didn't see Hammer, but he'd seen what happend and was talking to Running Club President about this shit happening two years in a row now. Get in the car and leave. Wife says Hammer still there. Don't want to go back, I know I'll blow a gasket and start cussing the RD, so drive to edge of town and wait to touch base before we leave.
Wife explained that race official (who was talking on cell phone) had left her station and wandered one block up the road. Guess that's when I showed up. Lost an overall win. Lost a PR. Wasted two weeks of training. Wasted a Race Effort I will now have to recover from. Fuck Morley, Missouri. Fuck their Fall Festival. Fuck their race. Fuck the RD -- Jerry Brehmer, Counselor at Scott County Central HS for letting this shit happend two years in row. Most of all, FUCK THAT FAT ASSED RACE OFFICIAL YAKKING ON THE CELL PHONE FOR NOT HAVING THE FUCKING DECENCY TO PAY FUCKING ATTENTION FOR A FEW MINUTES BETWEEN MEALS, SNACKS, AND NAPS TO DO HER FUCKING JOB AND DIRECT PEOPLE WHO PUT IN HOURS AND HOURS OF WORK AND EFFORT BECUASE THEY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ACTUALLY TRYING TO IMPROVE THEMSELFS.
I know, now I look like an asshole...so what.