Ramsey 10k Race Report

I went into this race mainly wanting to improve on last year's 10th place finish, hoping to finish 5th overall.  

As with most races, a huge herd of 25 or so jumped in front me from go. It's funny how these stupid things trigger those younger-days feelings. There I was, alone, on the outside looking in. They were in on some secret: *This* is how you take it from 'go;' get with the program. There they were, the happy pack, and I just couldn't keep up. 

Look who I found! Ann!

Race start's uphill, a point I had forgotten. I knew there was a big hill somewhere after the first turn off Oak St., but I forgot that much of first mile was uphill. So when I came through mile 1 in like 6:45-6:50, I wasn't too ruffled. 

Second mile, I'm still alone but I see the pack has broken up into like 2 (all behind 1 and 2 who were out of sight from the race's start). I am still trying to get in with *someone*, anyone. I can't quite get my breathing right. Then, I remember the kids asking me questions last night at dinner about blood doping (One kid "Nader you should try doping!".Another kid looks at him: "Uh, you know if you do it wrong the blood will form clots, right?"). Anyways, it made me realize, DUDE, OXYGEN is IMPORTANT to this process! At that point, I tried to get my breathing right. Up the big hill. Mile 2 in about 6:34. 

Mile 3, alone but now chasing a pack of 3. Two headphone guys ("Oh, *heck* no!") and a blue singlet off whom they were drafting. There was another blue singlet ahead of them. One of the blue singlets was Frank, but to far out to see (Frank finished in 39:00, and, like a boss, ran the 5k after in 18:55-ish). 6:19. 

Mile 4, alone, struggling, wishing I were in a pack. Two miles to go! 6:24

Mile 5, pushing, yup, alone. Took down one of the headphones guys, the one I didn't know and who had the audacity to put it in my face by wearing an *armband*, too. Go find a "tough mudder," dude! 6:16. 

I tried to crack blue singlet and the other headphones guy, but not...quite... Ah. Now I'm seeing the clock and it's reading 39:xx, so just I dumped it all out. Last 1.2 in 7:20. 

Tough mudders are hard core, bro.

8th place will have to do for this year. 1 minute PR. I'll take it.

The Half at Philadelphia

The night before was nearly as memorable as the day of. The plan was to responsibly take in a movie and be in bed by 8 or 9; in other words 2-3 hours earlier than normal.

Restlessness was exacerbated by what sounded like *quite* a party in the lobby. Totally unable to sleep from the jitters, inexplicable hunger, and periodic howling (in the strictest definition; actual howling) coming from the lobby, I did what any normal super-tweaker would do: I pulled on my jeans and shoes (no socks) and headed down to the gift shop for pretzels and water. I sat there, scarfing, first two pretzels at once, then six or seven, listening to Like a Virgin booming from the nearby bar. "OMG, I'm in the land of the world's loudest, most inconsiderate people in America: Philadelphia. Screwed. Got back to bed, only to be awoken an hour later by a piercing ring (Maybe I'm dead? I hope so.) and a voice "Evacuate the building. There is an emergency in the building. Do not use the elevator. You must evacuate the building." Some kid had pulled the fire alarm.

Got up around 4 and went out for a light jog. This is my day. I once passed a really tough exam on 2 hours sleep. Been there. Came back and heated up two packets of oatmeal. No spoon, so I used the coffee cup lid. Lots of it ended up on my face. This is my day.

The way they organized the corrals was weird. Half and full marathon peeps are all together, which was fine. But, right behind elite and sub-elite are “up to 3:10" and “up to 1:35.” Hmm? Anyways, by the time I got to the start from the portajohn line, it was like 5 minutes to the gun (of course). The only way to get into my corral was to jump over a chest-high metal barricade. Up and over and who do I find? Bryan McDonnell, who lives one town over and regularly wins local races. I was flattered that he recognized me. He told Mike he was going for two 1:24's. Yeah, see you back in Jersey. They started playing Lose Yourself and, embarrassed to say, I lost myself a little. But, some dude behind me was tearing. Come on, man; I hope it was from something other than Eminem.

Go! I was through the first half mile in like 3:15. The sub-3 pacer was cruising along, chatting with the guy next to him, and holding up his balloon stick like it was nothing. I was mesmerized by that for a bit. Forcing myself down, I came through mile 1 in 7:13.

Around mile 4-5ish, I noticed I had been running most of the way with one runner, Amanda, and asked her what she was going for.
“1:30.”
“Me, too.”
“Good.”

Running with Amanda was the best part of the race. Even though we exchanged surges, I wasn't trying to beat her and I could tell she wasn’t trying to beat me. At some point, she came up with another woman: “I found another one.” Ha.

Through 10k in 43:01.

At this point, we hit the hills. I hadn’t looked at a course elevation profile or anything before the race, so these took me by surprise. At some point I lost Amanda, and the other women lost me.

I pulled up to the to 10-mile clock and saw 1:09: 50, 51. Good *grief,* not again. Not again. At this point I started negotiating with my legs. “No more races this year. This is it. This is it. Come on.” I knew I had to run in the low 6's for the rest of the race. Plowing, plowing, plowing. “Full marathoners to the left, half to the right!” At this point, there was only one half marathoner in front of me. As I passed him, he grunted, “Yeah, finish strong.” Seeing no one else and completely delirious, I sincerely thought, for about a mile, “Am I winning? Am I going to win? Omg. I’m winning the half at Philly...No.” Later, others would comment that the course finished along “the river.” I did not know that at the time, since I was in a tunnel. The clock came into view: 1:59:40, 41. Oh no, not again. Not again. Dig, dig - Why is the guy in front of me stopping to jump and touch the clock? - 1:29:57, 58. In! Right? I later found out that my gun time was 1:29:59. Good grief is right.

Racing and Selective Attention

This year's Ramsey 10k was best race of my life, so far, and not just because of the time on the clock.

I lined up near, but not at, the front. By the end of the first mile, two packs had emerged; top 12(?) and then maybe 4 of us in the next pack. I found myself in the front, with the leaders way ahead of us.

After about the second mile marker a guy jumped in front of me. He lead for a bit, then at about mile 4 1/2, he started to flake. I was thinking he'd race with me, but, as I found out later, his tendonitis got him (big bummer).

A little into the last mile, I passed a kid in a T-shirt. There's something about the competitive cotton-clad that I respect.

About 1k to go and I was *right* up on Hector of Clifton RR. I was giving everything I thought I had, and figured if this guy doesn't relent I'm just not going to beat him. Then, he looked back at me and I found something that surprised me and took off. 7:22 over the last 2k.

When I saw the time on the clock, I was very surprised. I was so consumed with the race, that I had forgotten what my time goal was. It was one of those races where I had to force my eyes open to find the finish mat.

I was so happy. I thank God for such an experience.

On a related noted, Jeff at the Logic of Long Distance blog has posted some very good thoughts on Toughness as an Act of Imagination. He writes,

The attention is the greatest tool of the human mind because it allows us to select from the world the stimuli to which we would like to respond. Intelligence, it seems to me, is a matter of selection; more about tuning things out than opening the mind. The great geniuses of history created a world that made some sense through acts of attention--selecting a single problem so that progress could be made, setting up the world as intelligible when apprehended along very particular lines. Great thinkers help us frame our vision--by telling us what to see or how to see, they also tell us what not to see.

The Baystate Marathon

LAST WEEK I took a second crack at the marathon. After a little time to reflect, I am o.k. with how it went.

I went out hoping to hit sub-3:30. The night before, I thought: "All I have to do is start a bit carefully and then try to stay in the 7:50s." This did not exactly pan out. Like my training, there were brief good moments, some bad ones, and some really bad ones.

I crossed the 10k mark in 50:42, feeling fine, but realizing that I was running with the sub-3:40 crowd. This is more or less where I remained.

Near the end of the first half, I could not tell whether I had more than enough to finish "evenly," or if did not have nearly enough. Such is novice marathoning.

When I crossed mile 20 in 2:42 and change, I thought, "A 48-minute 10k? I can do that." Miles 21 and 22 reflected that belief. But, for whatever reason, during the 23-26.2 stretch, either became cautious or lost some zip, finishing in 3:36.

I think in many ways the race was microcosm of the training that preceded it. I ran more than I ever have, but my training was erratic and I do not think I "learned" my body well, how different paces felt, and what the different signals from my body meant. The fact that, throughout the race, I could not tell whether I had a ton of reserves left or very little is, itself, indicative.

I read Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning and followed (more or less) his 18/70 plan, but wish I had fully-digested it well before I started training or, at the very least eight weeks before the race.
I attempted a number of workouts, but did give myself the time or rest to execute them properly. In some cases, I executed them more aggressively than I should have.

If, God willing, I run a marathon this Spring, I hope to get to bed consistently earlier so that I can get up early and do the workouts properly and after proper rest. Doing workouts properly entails not pushing harder than is called-for. I also need to take my easier days a bit easier so as to soak up the benefits from the hard days. I also split most of the weekday medium-long runs into doubles, which does not produce good results for me.

Overall, I am thankful to God and my wife for supporting me in this beautiful thing. Thirty minutes faster than last year is a lot to be grateful for. Time to take it easy for a bit.