Notes
Hamstring fail. Right on pace at 1 mile, left hammy tweaked around 1.3mi. Slowed down, hobbled in.
The story of this race really began four days prior, during an easy run with some strides. I've recently been doing 20-second strides as a turnover drill. I hit lap on my watch, and I count the number of times my left foot strikes. At 30, I look at my watch -- if I'm at 180 steps per minute, I should be at 20 seconds. During these 20-sec stride drills, I'd been recently turning over around 200 steps per minute at paces around 4:30/mi. But on Thursday, I felt the teeniest, tiniest twinge in my left hamstring. So I shut it down, jogged home, and felt absolutely no pain or soreness in that area. The day before the race, I did some strides at closer to race pace and felt no issues, so I was confident that there wasn't gonna be a problem.
The race started at 9:00, but the bigger 10k race had already started at 7:00. I arrived around 7:45, so I had some time to mill around and watch the 10k finishers. I had intentionally opted for the 5k this year because even though the 10k is the biggest race in town and draws a world-class field, I'm very under-trained, and I didn't want to deal with the big hill. Despite this, I watched the 10k finishers with jealousy, because at least they were done.
My stated goal for the race was <21:00, but I was sandbagging a bit there. In reality, I planned to be right around, or hopefully below 20:00. My plan was to take it out slightly slower than 20min pace (6:26/mi), go steady in mile 2, and unleash progressively more demonic degrees of hell once:
-I hit the church at 1000m to go
-the next-to-last turn at 800m
-the final turn at 680m
-the 6-mile mark (the final mile of the course is shared with the 10k course, so the "6-mile marker" is for the 10k and means 0.22miles to go)
-and the final stretch from the 10k start banner to the finish (about 150m).
This plan demanded some dry heaves, and hopefully a full-on hurl at the end. Studying the previous few years' results, I felt anything under 20:30 would almost guarantee me a medal, because despite this race's large size (1677), it was a thin field -- locally, my AG seems weaker than the two on either side of if, and fact is, most of the studs run the 10k, not the 5k. (You wanna see what a strong field looks like, look at Mikeymike's most recent race. He got 8th in the 35-39 AG with a 17:30-something).
I started my first warm-up at 8:00, and jogged a good part of the course. I had studied the course map, and even viewed portions of it on Google Maps StreetView, but I wanted to see the key tangents for myself so that I could take the best line. A half hour's worth of running later, the warm-up fulfilled its primary purpose, as I hit the porta-john. Put on my DS-Trainers, which I use for racing flats, and ran another 1k or so with some strides. As I was coming back, I overheard a woman say to her friends, "I just don't get these people that run longer than the race distance to warm up." I was tempted to stop and extol the virtues of running as a laxative, but I needed to crap one more time, so I got to it.
This is a big "event" type race, and being on Memorial Day, there was a little bit of pageantry. There was a Veteran-related prayer, the Pledge of Allegiance was led by an 84yo D-Day WWII vet (who completely mangled it, but can obviously be forgiven), playing of Taps, and some dude singing "God Bless America." I positioned myself a few rows back, adjacent to the lane line that I knew would be the shortest path to the first turn. I gave myself one final admonition to "let them go" because I knew that most of the people who burst out of the gate would tire and slow. Weather would not be much of a factor -- it was 72°F, cloudy, and fortunately, had gotten less humid than it was earlier in the morning.
AND WE WERE OFF! As expected, it was a sea of chaos, with racers from 8-to-80 running way faster than they were gonna finish. I told myself to relax, let them go, and not get caught up in the misplaced euphoria. A glance at my Garmin after several blocks confirmed that I was running right around 4:00/km - right on pace. (I like to run metric races with metric paces -- makes the math easier. A 20-min 5k is 4:00/km, and your 1k splits are 4,8,12,16,20). Already, I was starting to pass people steadily. You know dead meat when you see it -- the loud breathing, the hunched shoulders, the slow, loping strides.
My watch beeped and alerted me that I had gone through the 1st km in 4:02. Perfect, exactly where I wanted to be. A few minutes later, I hit the one-mile at 6:28, exactly on target. I could tell it was gonna hurt at the end, but at that moment, my stride was light and fast, I was relaxed and focused, and my breathing was inaudible. I was surrounded by people that seemed to be struggling much more than I was, so now, the game was really afoot, as I continued to pass people, and beat them on the inside of turns. I'm all about the tangents.
There was a water stop at about 1.25 miles. I didn't need hydration, but I've always gotten a nice burst of refreshment from one cup of water on the head, and one swig to rinse and spit. True to form, I felt a fresh shot of adrenaline. Around this point, I thought that barring disaster, I was gonna be well under 21, and under-20 was a very real possibility.
And that's just when disaster struck. I felt a twinge in my left hamstring as I sped up. I immediately flashed back to last Thursday and the stride drill. I knew that sub-20 was gone, but I tried not to slow down too much, hoping that sub-21 was still possible. But it wasn't gonna happen. I wasn't about to risk serious injury over a race I hadn't really trained for. So I slowed a little more, trying to go just slow enough to avoid pain. I passed the 2-mile in 13:50, a full minute behind schedule.
I trudged along, but as I began reaching the markers for the progressive Unleashing of Hell, I started speeding up a little. I was just pissed and couldn't stand that there were so many people in front of me that were supposed to have been struck down with great vengeance and furious anger. I picked up the pace, adopting a stiff-legged gallop, which I maintained over the last 500m or so. I passed several people, a few of whom passed me back in the very last stretch, where I couldn't go any faster without doing some real damage. I saw the photographers, thought of making some douchy face, then changed my mind.
I kinda trip-hopped over the finishing mat, seeing 21:44 on the clock. I made my way to a nearby chair, and began rubbing my leg, trying to work out the pain. A few minutes later, I had an ice pack and some Advil. Results were posted every 100 runners, so I didn't have long to wait. It was raw data, not broken down into age groups. At first glance, I thought I may have gotten 3rd AG, but a recount showed that it was 6th. And of course, later online, I found out that was really 7th.
Obviously disappointing, but not the end of the world. Just need more hills, drills, and miles, and not run strides so hard. But hey, at least I ran good tangents. My Garmin measured 3.12 miles on a certified course, which is about as good as you can do, considering I wasn't right at the starting line, had to do a little weaving, and wasn't as focused after the injury.
I also began physical therapy as soon as I got home. The regimen consisted of three beers and a glass of wine. A marked improvement in my demeanor was seen almost immediately.