Notes
Pre-race:
The weather this morning was perfect, about 47F when I got up and 52F when I got to the starting area. I met up with training partners Tom. and Julio (a.k.a., 'The Wolfpack') about 30 minutes before the gun. I was expecting Tom, but Julio was a very welcome surprise. Last week I had kidded him about pacing me for this race. I really suck at the whole drinking on the run thing; maybe he could help me with that and perhaps get a few laughs at my expense along the way. He showed up ready for work, complete with his Florida Track Club shirt with the big Orange on the front. Julio is easily the fastest runner in our group. He ran 6:43 pace for the JFK 50-miler last year, so for him this was just an easy training run.
There looked to be a couple hundred people all told milling around the starting area. Tom and I went for a warmup jog while Julio chatted with my wife. Julio was speculating about whether the course was certified. Smart man, that Julio ...
Miles 1-3: 6:48; 6:27; 6:40.
At the gun there was usual rush of runners going at crazy fast speeds, but with Julio trotting along with me in perfect rhythm, we managed to keep the pace right on as the runners started to string out over the first couple miles. Tom steadily drifted off ahead, running about 10-15 seconds per mile faster than us, which is about what we expected. It was a good thing we kept Tom in sight for the first couple miles though. Just before the second mile mark there was an unmarked turn that Tom remembered from the course runthrough with the race director; if we had not seen Tom turn up ahead we would have certainly gone of course. Thanks Tom! I'm glad he finally found a way to put his geography degree to work. At the first aid station I got my first chance to drink on the run. Even with Julio's help I managed to keep maybe half of it off the front of my singlet. The cups were plastic (supplied by Poland Springs, I think) and would bend and break in weird ways when I tried to make a pouring spout out of the top. I did at least listen to Julio's advice to take my time drinking the stuff. Little sips were definitely better than gulps.
Miles 4-6: 6:45; 6:40; 6:48.
This part of the course included a long stretch on a brand-new wooden boardwalk, which was a bit confusing in spots because of some construction right as you reached the beach. At one point Julio and I saved a runner ahead of us from going the wrong way. A little later, at about 4.8 miles there was another very fast runner coming toward us (i.e., in the wrong direction) and obviously a bit miffed at whatever screwup had caused the confusion. I never did find out what went wrong there but I suspect it had somthing to do with a bike volunteer who apologized to him after the race.
Miles 7-9: 6:43; 6:44; 6:59.
We made it to the turnaround point just fine. I was barely even winded. I still sucked at drinking the Gatorade but was feeling like I'd make it just fine if I could just keep moving. It was fun yelling encouragement at the slower runners coming at us. One helpful runner flashed 7 fingers to tell me I was in 7-th place. At one point Julio got carried away with the shouting and sped up a little too much for me to keep up. Fortunately he slowed down after a while when he checked his watch. The 9-th mile included 0.4 miles on a sandy trail that slowed us a bit to just over 7 minute pace, but still there were no real problems beyond the Gatorade tie-dye stain slowly accumulating on the front of my shirt.
Miles 10 and 11: 6:48; 6:46.
I was starting to feel some lactate buildup at this point but managed to keep pace reasonably well. One runner passed me going at a fast clip. It looked a little muscular for a runner. I suspect he was a triathlete using this as a fast training run. He was barely sweating! I was in awe.
Miles 12 and 13: 6:59; 7:14.
On a slight downhill section just before a footbridge across a marina, I felt my right foot cramp, right in the forefoot. The cramp didn't make my toes curl up or down but stay pointed straight ahead. It was like running with a ping pong paddle for a foot. I kept pace fairly well but of course was a bit concerned about what was coming next. About a quarter mile later my left calf started cramping, but it would stop if I slowed the pace just slightly. The right joined in about another quarter mile later, slowing me down even more. I was probably running 7:25 pace by the time we could see the finish at the beach ahead. Five runners, all looking sickeningly young and fit and fresh, passed me in the meantime, but it was almost over, or so I thought.
The last 0.11mi: 59 seconds (about 9:00 pace)
This was probably the weirdest finish I've ever had in a race. It was on sand that had been aerated pretty nicely by the recent hurricane and was about at firm as the ball pit at McDonalds. Julio was smart enough to run down to water level, which was much firmer, but I followed the little flags in the quicksand to the finish line , all the while trying not to completely lock up on my cramping calves. Let's just say I was not a happy camper when I crossed the line. That was pure torture! Oh, and my Garmin actually auto-paused at one point because my pace had slowed enough to be more properly called a fast walk instead of a run. Ugh. I had to add those second back in by hand when preparing this race report.
Post Race:
As Tom, Julio, and I hung out on the beach waiting for the official results, we saw lots of other people with contorted faces crossing the line and cursing the godawful sand pit finish. What was this, a warrior dash? We also heard stories of other weird goings on. For example, a cop showed up late for the 5K race, leaving some of the runners waiting at a red light to cross a busy street. Oops. The missing course signs also had played havoc on the results, with one runner in the top 3 overall showing under 13 miles on his Garmin. I think he must have missed the turn that Tom got right back in mile 2.
After about a half hour I managed to get a look at the unofficial results. My timing was wrong, showing 6:43 pace and for a 1:30:30 time. Umm ... neither was correct, so I was a bit annoyed, but figured that I couldn't complain until the final results were in. Fortunately, the final results were correct, showing pretty much exactly the time I had on my Garmin.
Tom's friend very very fast Jim won the masters division in under 1:21, with Tom coming in second at just under 1:26. I ended up in third place in the masters division and 12-th place overall (I think).
After the awards I talked a bit with the race director. He said that some kids had stolen the race markers last night and that he'd tried to replace what he could. He was also clearly frustrated by the slipups with the local police department, who to be fair were also taxed with another race on some of the same roads at exactly the same time as ours. The other race, a 5K race/walk, had been scheduled for August 28 but had to be rescheduled due to the course being washed away by Irene. Given everything else I figured it was worth asking if the course had been certified. He said that there hadn't been time or money to get it (re?) certified after the storm damage rerouted the course.
I'm somewhat sympathetic to the race director's plight. It was the race's first year. It was a small, local affair with a small budget and inexperienced volunteers. The storm had messed up part of the course. The police were distracted by other events. Maybe next year things will go more smoothly, and hopefully they'll reroute the finish to the parking lot instead of on the beach.
Final Assessment
So, after quite an adventure I met my goal. I'm pretty sure the time and the distance are accurate, though I can't count the time for NYC marathon qualifying because of the certification issue. I'm going to have to figure out the cramping problems before I do another half. I was well hydrated and well-rested before the race. I drank what I could of the Gatorade. I guess I'm just going to have to run more miles before the next time I try this. It should get easier, right?