(**Garmin watch lost connection while going through an underground tunnel. This split is incorrect.)
The 2012 Nice Semi-Marathon (half-marathon, for those in the US) marked my return to road racing. Since finishing the 2011 New York City Marathon in November, I hadn’t raced a single road event due to to my training for the Atacama.
My goals for the Nice Semi were a little ambitious. My B-Goal was to PR (anything under a 1:23:09). My A-goal was anything in the 1:21 area. I knew it would be difficult, for two reasons:
I had experienced a strange calf pain / tightness / strain two weeks before the race. It meant that I got in no speed workouts or quality workouts before the race, and in fact I was forced to take a few crucial days off.
I hadn’t raced in 6 months. I was nervous. What if I didn’t have that racing mentality anymore? What if I had lost the ability to remain both physically and mentally tough? And I hadn’t put my body through a race, so how would it react being forced into trying to PR all of a sudden?
With 4 days before the start of the race, my calf calmed down and I was able to get in three test runs to make sure I could finish the race and not injure myself. The doubts in my head were still there but there was only one way to find out what kind of shape I was in, and that was to race.
The Nice Semi-Marathon course. There are many turns through narrow streets, and two 180-degree turns to make you work for a good time. However, running through Nice and along the Promenade was a great experience.
I wanted to race this a little conservatively by going out at a fairly controlled pace from the start and that is exactly what I did. My first miles were a splattering of miles in the 6:13 – 6:23 range. The variation in the miles is mainly due to the number of turns in each mile. Sometimes there were many, and sometimes there were none. This was a course through a relatively small city, and before the path along the Promenade des Anglais it meant that we had to run through narrow European streets and lost a lot of time making some very sharp turns.
Like so many other races, this half marathon had a 10K component to it as well. The 10K runners started with the half-marathoners, but pulled off and finished just before the halfway mark for the half. This meant that I had to check to see (read, “judge”) who I was passing or getting passed by in the first 10 kilometers of the race.
Around mile 5 / 6 I realized that this was going to get hard. Originally I had planned to follow up my controlled first half with a faster second half to negative split the race. By mid-race I realized this would be an uphill battle and I had to just hold on. There was also a very real chance that I wouldn’t even do a 1:23, and that I would have to settle for a very disappointing 1:24 or 1:25.
Luckily I managed to find someone who was near identical with my speed. I think we both realized at the same time that we should run together, so we tucked into a nice rhythm around the 10km mark and never let the other slow down or try to do something silly like surge mid-race. At the same time that we were competitors, I think we wanted to push and pull each other to a good race.
Around the 13 km mark, I saw the race leaders coming my direction. There is a 180 degree turn at km 15 which sends people heading against traffic on the other side of the Promenade. Not only does it allow runners to see the leaders coming back to the finish (located near the start line), it also allows faster friends to see their slower comrades, just as many out-and-back courses do. In my case, it meant that the first person I would look for was my friend MS. He and I had similar goals for the day, but I was struggling and I figured that he wasn’t. Sure enough, on my “out” portion of the final leg of the course I saw him on the “back” portion. I looked at my watch – 1:00:00 exactly. At the turnaround I looked at my watch again: 1:01:00. That meant he had a 2-minute lead on me at this point. I was happy for him that he’d more or less reach his objectives for the race.
The turn-around was around km 15, and I knew I had just over 6 kilometers to go before reaching the finish. The sun was coming out now; it was past 10:30 and the temperatures were rising steadily to make the already-humid air fairly uncomfortable for me. I’m not sure if it was a plus or a minus, but there was a light headwind in the final stretch to the finish. While it may have slowed me a second or two per mile, to be honest it cooled me down a bit and I was grateful for it. I was starting to fade but having gone through enough races I knew that could hang on for the just-over 3.5 miles to the finish. As a bonus, I was cheered on by several other Front Runners (from Nice, Lyon, Cologne, Paris) who were behind me and running toward the turn-around at kilometer 15. I will admit to losing focus at some point and recording my slowest mile here (6:34), but I was able to pick things back up for the final mile (6:22) before crossing the finish in 1:23:43.
There was some disappointment in the time; I hadn’t PRed and I certainly hadn’t achieved my A-goal. That said, it’s a fairly decent time for me and it’s a good return to road racing to start my 2012 season. The course was a little difficult with all the turns, and the sun/wind in the last 6km did prove a little difficult. That said, it does give me confidence that I will only get faster from here and I am looking forward to running more races in France.
On Sunday the 29th, I am running the Nice Half Marathon. It will be my first race in almost 6 months that I have a time goal for. My last real race was the NYC Marathon back in November of 2011. As big of a race as the Atacama was, it was less about time and more about placement / finishing.
The Nice Half Marathon marks the beginning of my 2012 racing season, and I’m a little nervous about it for two reasons:
1. The bike accident. My left hip / knee were hurt pretty badly, and the muscles are still a bit sore. I don’t think there will be any permanent damage of any sort, but in the upcoming week or two there may be some residual discomfort that might affect performance. My left calf is strangely sore, so I’ll be doing nothing but easy runs this week before the race.
2. Lack of racing in 6 months. I feel like I haven’t had the racing mindset that I had before, simply because I’ve spent so much time training and not much time racing. I have to start somewhere, though, so this isn’t much of a problem more than it is an observation. I think racing is a skill that needs to be practiced, and I just have to start racing again.
My “B” goal is to set any form if a PR. My current PR is 1:23:09, set what will be almost exactly a year to the day of the Nice Half Marathon. My “A” goal is a PR in the 1:20 – 1:21 range. I think my legs will be capable of running it if the soreness goes away, and as long as the race day weather is OK. I think the race starts at 11am, and it may be a little warm for me. Also, I need to make sure to get in the competitive start corral, because the narrow streets of Nice will slow a lot of people down who want to run faster than a 1:30. You need to be in the front of the race so you don’t get boxed in during the first 10 kilometers.
After the Nice Half, I’ll be focusing on continuing to get faster for the Massachusetts Reach the Beach in mid-May. Then it’s all about training for the Chicago Marathon in October. I’m nervous, slightly excited about the prospect of running fast again, but most of all happy to be back in training with my friends. As much as I liked the backpack training, it did mean that I did a lot the Atacama training solo.
In a little more than two months, I will be leaving for Chile to race the Atacama Crossing with my friend Mike S. In preparation for that, months ago Mike and I targeted a few races along the way that would help to prepare us mentally and physically. Along with the typical marathons, we made a point to look for a longer-distance trail race to get more race-specific experience. That race would turn out to be the Lookout Mountain 50-Miler.
Lookout Mountain is located along the Tennessee-Georgia border, just south of Chattanooga. From atop the mountain you can see 4 states (Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, and… Russia?). From the name of the race, you can probably guess that this is a hilly race. The total ascent of the race is approximately 6,500 feet, and it’s all on trails. I’d say about 70% of the trails are single-track, with a small bit that is double-track and wide enough to comfortably fit two people or pass people ahead. Ultra Running Magazine rates it a 4 (of 5) for terrain and a 4 (also of 5) for surface. It’s a fairly tough course, and shouldn’t be attempted by anyone who isn’t a fairly strong-willed runner. This year may have been a 5 for surface, given the rains in the days before.
Going into this race, I didn’t taper at all. I had just spent a full week in Haiti two weeks prior, and that severely limited my ability to train (due to the fact that it’s just too damn dangerous to run in Haiti). When I got back to New York, I immediately started putting in 10+ miles every day, and I had hit 51 miles in the days leading up to Lookout. I gave myself 2 days off so that my legs wouldn’t be too tired, but otherwise I just jumped straight into this thing without any taper. Strangely, I wasn’t worried at all.
Perhaps because I wasn’t racing Lookout, I was very at ease in the weeks and days leading up to the race. This, despite the fact that I had never run a distance longer than a marathon and I had only done a handful of relatively easy trail races in the past. Somehow I was heading into an unfamiliar distance on unfamiliar surfaces, and I knew that I would be just fine.
Mike and I made a very early decision to run together the entirety of the race. If we’re going to be stuck with each other for the 7 days and 160 miles of the Atacama Crossing, then we’d better see if we can tolerate each other during a long day. We’ve run over a thousand miles together, but never quite under these circumstances.
Along with Mike, I headed down to Chattanooga with 3 other friends : Dave L, Daniel G., and Jonathan W. This would be Dave’s first ultra distance, and while has has done many marathons he was a little concerned about running 50 miles so had made a decision to run with Daniel. Daniel is a Marathon Maniac who has completed 50-milers and 50Ks before, and I knew that his consistency in pacing long distance events would be a good way to help Dave L. get through the race without starting out too fast. Jonathan is a very strong and talented runner, having taken 11th place at this race last year. He used to live in Chattanooga and has a family home in Georgia just 10 miles south of the TN-GA border.
The race started without much of a bang. At 7:30am the top of the mountain was cold and misty and the sun hadn’t quite poked through the clouds to warm anyone up. With reluctance, people left the warmth of the outdoor fire pit and headed to the start chute with only few minutes to spare before the gun went off. And when that gun went off, it was a much different experience than I’m used to. Instead of being at the front of the pack and starting a race at sub-6 pace, everyone started of at ….maybe 8:00 pace at most.
Obviously in a 50 mile race there is no need to sprint out the start. The single-track trails wouldn’t start for another mile or so and without a frenzied dash for position, people naturally sort of got into the order and pace that they would keep for the opening miles.
My plan was to take my pace (effort) easy the first marathon’s worth of miles, then put a little more effort into the the next 10, and grind out the last 15 or so miles. I knew that the last 15 was where the race started, much in the same way that the last 10K will make or break a marathon.
Those opening miles were clearly the easiest and the most pretty. Starting at the top of the mountain, a lot of them (1-8) were downhill and gave us an spectacular view of what was below. There were dramatic cliff sides that we ran along, and we were able to soak in the clear skies that opened up over Tennessee to the north and Georgia to the east.
Mike and I started out right on track to take it easy. We were averaging just over 10:00 pace for the first 8 miles, which included quite a bit of single-track trail before getting much wider at the mile 8 aid station. We kept the pace conservative, and I used the easy pace as a good opportunity to get used to the trails while I still had mental energy. 99.99% of my running is done on roads, so there was a little bit of learning to do on these trails; rocks underfoot, leaves obscuring various twigs, uneven terrain, etc.
Following the first aid station, the next several miles were mostly on very forgiving double-track trails that were wide, flat, and easy to run on. On this surface we’d end up averaging 8:30s and it felt ok to pick up the pace a little bit. A little voice was nagging me to not go wild on anything, so I resisted the temptation to dip below 8:00 pace. This wasn’t the time to do anything stupid. If anything, it was time to listen to people who knew what they were talking about. There were two men who seemed to know each other and were running with Mike and me. One of them had run Lookout before, so we picked his brain for suggestions on what parts to take easy and what parts we could make up time on. I kept my mouth shut and my ears open.
Me in green, getting my feet wet.
Around mile 12 we got our first taste of the creek crossings to come: a 50 meter, near-waist-high trudge through freezing cold water. What would have normally been a mildly ankle-deep creek was now a full river thanks to 48 hours of rain in the days preceding the race. There was no choice but to go through (DQ for those who tried to go around), so we got wet, tried to stay upright, and made it through. Our shoes were soaked, our legs were cold, but at least that would be the worst of it.
I couldn’t bitch too much just yet, because over the next three miles there would be a 1500’ climb. We recorded some molasses-slow times on some of those uphills: 14:23, 13:29… times that I didn’t even think existed in a running race. But I swear I just couldn’t go any faster. A lot of the severe uphills we walked, and probably couldn’t have been going faster than 25:00 pace.
The one thing to look forward to was that at the top of the hill was our first real chance to get real food. Beginning with the mile 22 aid station, all future aid stations along the course would have “drop bags” ready for us. These were bags prepared by us that the race would bring out to pre-determined mile stations (22, 28, 34, 38.5, 44.5) that we could load up with any specific needs. For Mike and I, it mostly meant junk food (sugary candy, salt and vinegar chips) and – very importantly – dry socks. All those creek crossings would surely give me blisters, so I made sure to include three extra pairs of dry socks that I could change into during the race. Even a small blister can become a large problem, and I wasn’t about to DNF because of wet socks.
Dave L, experiencing his first trail ultra!
Our friend Jonathan’s father, Bill, was there waiting for us, and thankfully at mile 22 we were still in great spirits. Our legs felt fine, our minds were good, and there was no sign of slowing down. We asked how Jonathan was doing, and he said he was 10 minutes in front of us. I kept this in mind and we took off.
The next aid station would be at mile 28 with another drop bag, and the route there was pretty simple. Best of all it was mostly downhill, and despite some technical trails we were able to pick up the pace and bit and make up some time that we lost on the massive uphill miles from 18-22. After the Mile 28 aid station at Lula Lake, we passed a gorgeous waterfall that made me appreciate the beauty of the course. I hadn’t expected anything so massive, and running by the roar of the water made me realize just how much nature there was to experience on this mountain.
Miles 28 through 34 were fairly uneventful on the course. We did notice at some point that we were starting to pass a lot of people. Our conservative start looked to be paying off, as we starting chipping away and moving our position up with every mile.
At the aid station at mile 34, Jonathan’s father Bill was again there to cheer us on. He explained that the next 4.5 miles were simply a large loop on the course that would bring us right back to where we were now. He asked if I would like him to have some hot soup ready. I said, “sure,” and started the 4.5 mile loop with Mike. I had no idea how happy I would be that I had said yes!
To give you an idea of what this course was now doing to people, this 4.5 mile loop took Mike and I over an hour, and we probably passed at least a half dozen runners who were now walkers. Many of them would end up not even walking when they finished the loop, at mile 38.5, as many competitors would drop out of the race at this spot.
During this loop we ended up running a bit with the first place female, Debbie Livingston. She was a pretty good runner, and we ended up swapping places a few times. She’d be good on the downhills but she’d really slow down on the flats and uphills. My strong point is certainly not going uphill (never will be), but even she couldn’t keep up with me on the ups.
She ended up finishing 15 minutes ahead of us, but where she passed us was not on the trail itself, but at the aid station. She was in and out in maybe two minutes tops. While Mike and I were busy changing socks, getting hydrated, and slamming down that awesome cup of ramen that Bill had ready for me, she was already on her merry way toward the next aid station. She didn’t miss a beat. I can only imagine she did this at the next aid station to further the gap between us even more. I guess that sort of ability to run through the aid station comes with experience, and it’s something that I’ll be looking to do next year to save up to 15 minutes overall.
At the mile 38.5 station, I had my first taste of the hot ramen with broth that Bill gave me. I’ve often thought that the quality of taste is not so much a function of the food as it is the appetite : and boy did I have an appetite! The cup of ramen was warm, salty goodness down my throat (please, no semen swallowing jokes; it’s just too obvious) and I couldn’t wait to get more at the next station. While I was busy with my ramen, Mike was changing his socks and his feet were shaking uncontrollably. Shit. He had to keep moving or something would cramp and that would be the end of things for him. To be honest, I wanted to dilly-dally a bit and rest, but he had to get moving… so onward we went with only 12 miles to go.
We made a deal that I would take the next 6 miles, and he would take the last 6 miles. I knew this wouldn’t be realistic, and I was right. We ended up swapping the lead every mile or so. At this point it was a lot to expect someone to take the lead for more than 10 or 15 minutes at a time.
We were now on the “back” part of an out-and-back course, and we were heading home going against traffic that was still going out. We got a lot of words of encouragement from the runners that were heading to mile 34, and I appreciated the camaraderie that develops among runners so far out on the trail.
Sooner than I had anticipated, we turned a corner and I heard the rush of water at Lula Lake. I couldn’t believe it – we were at mile 44.5, the last aid station! With a very quick stop (more hot ramen!), we were on our way and had only 5.5 miles to go before we were finished. This was when I finally started to taste the finish line. Having been on the course for 8+ hours, never had I thought about the finish – it was always just so far away. But finally it was within sight.
I knew the last 5.5 miles would take long. How could it not? It was uphill and we were tired. I was so tired that at one point I thought it was only 4.5 miles to the finish, and I kept doing estimated finish calculations based on this bogus number. It wasn’t for a while until I realized I had one more mile that I hadn’t counted on, and that almost broke my fragile, tired mind. But I’ve done enough distance races and ultra relays that I knew I could tough out an extra mile. And I wasn’t about to bitch, because that wasn’t going to help anyone.
I kept my head down, ran everything that wasn’t uphill, kept my mouth shut, and after an hour soon we saw the top of that damn mountain. With a chain-link fence signaling to us that we were back at the start (that also served as the finish), Mike and I picked up the pace. We turned a few corners and could see the huge “FINISH” setup and we booked it. We were flying, and before I knew it we had crossed the line in 9:32:25.
I have never been so overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment; I immediately turned to Mike and we gave each other a big hug with ridiculous grins on both our faces. We had finished! And we did it without injury, without drama, without bickering, without ever doubting that we could finish this thing together. We ran a smart race, we ran a consistent race, and we finished in the top 30. I was on top of the world (or a mountain, at least).
Jonathan had come in a half hour ahead of us, and he and his family were there to cheer us on at the finish. We all had a chance to catch up and briefly reflect on the race, but Jonathan was in dire need of rest and a shower. He was looking pretty shaky and we advised him to get home ASAP to recover. Meanwhile Mike and I waited for Dave and Daniel to finish. An hour went by, and I started to get a little concerned that maybe Dave was under prepared for this race. I knew he had his phone on him, and I was relieved that I didn’t have any missed calls or messages from him saying that he had dropped out. Literally at the 11th hour their head lamps appeared in the distance of the night. With a time of 11:11, they crossed the line together and they were done.
A huge sense of pride came over me, so happy that the 5 of us had completed this race. With an attrition rate of 38% (250 registrants, only 156 finishers), a lot of people dropped out, got swept up by the 14-hour time limit, or just didn’t even show up.
This race gave me a lot of the confidence that I needed to continue training for Atacama. With a little more than two months to go, I will need to really bear down and put in both quality and quantity of miles. With this under my belt it will allow me to focus on those miles without worrying about the race. I’ve just signed up for the Miami Marathon in January, which will be run with a 10 or 15 pound backpack. Lookout may have ended, but the training must go on.
The New York City Marathon: the biggest marathon in the world, and certainly the focal point of every single serious running club in New York City. Since witnessing it as a volunteer last year, I made the simple decision that I would run it in 2011. And I would try to run it in less than 3 hours.
That simple decision would become a complicated training schedule of long runs, tempo runs, hill repeats, cross-training bike rides, and a few races along the way to test the progression of my fitness. Unfortunately it would also include a minor bout of ill-timed tendonitis, and a few training struggles that crippled my chances at a sub-3 New York City Marathon. But I would still try.
In the weeks leading up to the race I knew that my training had gone askew in August due to tendonitis, and I hadn’t been the same since. I decided that the best approach to a successful marathon would be to try and (gasp) negative split this race – a conservative strategy.
Because I didn’t feel like I was in peak shape, I thought that it would be very dangerous to try and execute my original plan, which was to go out at 1:27 first half and 1:32 the second half for a 2:59 total. Going out at a 1:27 in non-peak shape could have resulted in a 1:45+ second half, considering the bridges and hills in the last 13.1 miles. If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. So I decided to play the first half conservatively (1:30+).
Getting to the start line was undramatic, just how I wanted it. I took the Staten Island ferry some friends, which meant that the boat ride was nice and chatty and no one got too anxious about the race start. When we hit Staten Island we met up with more Front Runners and that seemed to put us even more at ease. Even as we split up to our own corrals, there were enough of us that no one was alone and each had a group to stay calm and relaxed with. Good.
The start was just as I wanted it – nice and slow. Considering that the first mile is uphill along the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, trying to hit marathon goal pace would result in I burning out my legs in the first mile and paying for it in the last 10K. When the gun went off I told myself that I would throw myself off the Verrazano Bridge if my first mile was faster than 7:45. I knew that I’d make up the time on the next mile, downhill coming off the bridge.
My first mile came : 7:48. Shit, how good am I at pacing myself? OK, enough with the self-congratulatory BS… the rest of the first 5K was just about where I wanted it. After the first uphill mile on the bridge, the downhill descent was a wicked fast mile but I didn’t let that bother me. After those first two miles (one slow up, one fast down) I decided to settle roughly a 6:50 pace for flats, knowing that the uphills in Brooklyn would slow me to a 6:52+ average pace and a 1:30+ first half.
I saw the Pulaski Bridge, leading the runners from Brooklyn over to Queens. The 13.1 mark was at the base of the bridge, and I crossed it in 1:30:55. I patted myself on the back for a well-paced half, but knew that it was time to settle in for the hilly second. Descending the Pulaski Bridge, I started passing people who had gone out too fast. Unfortunately, this included a number of friends of mine, but the marathon doesn’t have loyalties.
Just like the Bronx, the section of the marathon that takes place in Queens is fairly short and uneventful. Before I knew it I was going over the Queensboro Bridge (Mile 16) and realized that I would still have energy when I exited the bridge onto 1st Avenue in Manhattan. 1st Avenue is one of the biggest rushes, as spectators come out in full force after the long silence of the Queensboro Bridge. This was very much something to look forward to. On top of that, there’s a nice downhill just a half mile into 1st Avenue and I needed to recovering some of the time I had lost on the bridge. I had to run a 1:29 second half to get a sub-3, and 1st Avenue would allow me to do that.
1st Avenue was everything I had hoped for, and then more. On top of the crowds, I had a friend unexpectedly spot me and shout my name for a much-needed boost. No matter how many races I run, I still get a thrill when someone cheers me on from the crowd. It was perfectly timed, as I was headed up through East Harlem where the crowds start to thin out before the route makes its way over the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx just before Mile 20.
For so many marathoners, Mile 20 is where the race starts to get hard. It’s often said that the marathon is two parts : the first 30K (~19 miles) and the last 10K. By around Mile 20, the body has been mostly depleted of glycogen reservers and those last 6.2 miles are a test of mental and physical toughness to push through.
Starting those last 6.2 miles in the Bronx was difficult, because the crowd support disappears compared to the rest of the marathon route. In an effort to secure against bonking, my friend Ryan had agreed to meet me before Mile 21 to pass me off a pre-filled sport bottle of Gatorade that I could chug down. Unfortunately he was on the far side of the street and I couldn’t spot him in time. By the time he yelled my name, I was too far to grab the drink from him and had to forego that little security blanket for the rest of the race. I started to fade a little bit, going from sub-7 miles to low-7 miles. Going sub-3 for the race was starting to fade, quite heavily. It wasn’t the Gatorade, though – it was just my legs. And I had to fight that.
With just over 6 miles left to go, I re-entered Manhattan (sigh of relief) and made my way to Central Park. I made a mental note to look effortless going around the perimeter of Marcus Garvey Park, knowing that a club photographer would be there to capture every last second of pain and I wasn’t going to accept looking anything but good. I’d like to think that I succeeded. You be the judge.
After Harlem, 5th Avenue starts a slight but steady incline and I found myself running uphill for a full (and my slowest) mile. It was disheartening, knowing that I had to pick up the pace but also had to face an uphill mile. I knew at this point that I would not be able to pull off a sub-3, but I could still could get a Boston-qualifying time (3:05:00)
Pretty soon the race was in Central Park. Any runner who lives in New York knows Central Park like the back of their hand. We know every turn, every incline, every subtle change in scenery – and knowing where I could push the pace bolstered my confidence. Once I got inside I knew I could look forward to two things : 1.) the Front Runner water station at Mile 24, and 2.) the big downhill of Cat Hill (going south).
As expected, when I hit the Mile 24 water station everyone started cheering for me, a Front Runner. That little boost, and the realization that I needed to pick up the pace to run a Boston-qualifier, allowed me to run my last two miles as my fastest in the race (6:30 pace)… and to qualify for Boston. Yes, I missed my A-goal of a sub-3 marathon. But I knew that was a long shot. More importantly, I ran a successful marathon and I’ll have a 2013 Boston Marathon entry to show for it.
Getting to the start of any marathon is a long journey. No one gets there alone, and I’m no exception. I wouldn’t have gotten there without Mike O, Mikey B, Mike S, Dave L, Ryan S, Chris S, and much of the FRNY family. I didn’t hit sub-3, but I’m not bothered by that because I know that’ it’s just around the corner. I also know that corner is a very long ways away, since the upcoming 10 months will be dedicated to ultra distances. In a way, not having an upcoming marathon that I’m racing is a slight relief. With 50 mile races and longer to focus on, I can put aside the sub-3 goal while I focus on other things. It will make my return to the marathon in 2013 – perhaps Boston? – that much sweeter.
This was a pretty awesome race. I signed up for it months ago, just because it was sort of interesting having done the JFK 5K. I guess it was just an extension of the runway series in my mind.
In all honesty I hadn’t been doing any speedwork whatsoever. In fact, as we stood in the corrals a friend asked me, “So what’s your goal?” I had no clue what I was going to do. I told I wasn’t sure — but that I would know after the first 400 meters.
Well the gun went off, and that was it — I was racing. My legs kept a comfortably hard pace and soon I had done a 5:46 opening miles. The sun was coming down pretty hard and the blacktop of the runway wasn’t helping; but at least it was flat, and I’ll never complain about missing hills in the middle of a race.
Mile 2 included a crazy u-turn around an orange cone just like at JFK, so I recorded a slower 2nd mile of 5:59 due to losing a lot of speed maneuvering around that stupid cone. Looking back it was sort of fun, because when you turned at the cone it then meant you were seeing the slower people still running “out” while I was heading back already. I saw my friends that I came with, and some random back-of-the-packers were yelling words of encouragement to those of us finishing up our 3rd and final mile. How cool!
Mile 3 was your typical mile in a 5K — incredibly painful — as I just told my stupid legs to hold the fuck on and cross the mat. It’s just one mile, and it’s just sub-6 pace. I wasn’t asking anything out of the ordinary, and I wouldn’t let my brain talk my legs out of a good race.
Blah blah blah, crossed the line, got a PR. The end.
This is the biggest race of my running club, and going into this race, I really wanted to break 6:00 pace. I knew it would be a bit of a long shot, but I had to give it a good effort.
The first three miles were right on target, but on a slightly warm day to race it was difficult for me to hold onto. When I hit Cat Hill on the east side of the park in the 4th mile I could feel myself starting to fall apart. I had a very slow 6:23 mile, but once I regained a little composure I was able to drop below 6:00 pace for the last mile.
There were a few people who struggled with this race, so I felt a little better that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t reach their goal pace. And somehow I managed to crack into the top 10 individuals in my club, undoubtedly because many of our fast runners have been injured and didn’t show up. Regardless, it’s a PR for me and a good race so I won’t be letting myself complain.
Well, I needed a good half marathon under my belt to give me the confidence to go into my marathon training — and a good half marathon is what I got. With a 1:23:09, I can now cast off all the old demons of poor half marthons past, and start shooting for a sub-3:00 marathon.
Splits: 5:50, 5:57, 5:48 (+ some change for the .1 mi)
The JFK Rotary Club has a very cool fundraising race every year — a 5K race on an actual JFK runway! It’s aptly called the JFK Runway Run, and it’s an out-and-back on a perfectly flat and fast course, with planes taking off overhead and all the cool stuff that comes with international jetsetting.
Despite 1.) wanting to focus on longer distances, 2.) having just done a 5K in March and 3.) a NYRR 10K points race in Central Park the same day, I couldn’t let the opportunity to race on the runway pass me by. Two of my Mikes (Sanderson and White) and I went down for this race, and bumped into a half dozen other FRNY folk out there.
As I always do, I got a tiny bit nervous before the race. What if my legs didn’t show up? I’m not doing any speed training, and a 5K is all about speed. On top of that, Benjamin Corbett (a fellow FRNYer) was there and I just couldn’t let him beat me, at whatever cost. Ego is a dangerous, dangerous thing!
The event is fairly small, and there were no real corrals or bib numbers that seeded the fast runners toward the front. We were asked to line up next to different poles that indicated our predicted pace (5 min, 6 min, 7 min, etc.) and after a minute the horn sounded and we were off!
Only a quarter-mile into the race, I notice Benjamin is well in front of me and another kid, Ned, is right next to me. I should be well ahead of Ned but I felt like my pace was good. Were my legs betraying me? Was I going slower than I thought? Based on my effort it sure felt like sub-6:00 miles but judging by the company I was keeping (or rather, *following!*) it seemed I was running much slower — that is, until the first mile marker came up : 5:50 on the nose. Perfect.
GPS Map of the 2011 JFK Runway 5K
Being in the front of the race meant that I ran solo just about the entire way. I was never more than a few seconds away from my friend Sanderson, but without a large group to pace off of or to chase I had concerns about losing focus / concentration (i.e., speed), and also about losing motivation. As annoying as big races in Central Park can be, at least there are familiar faces and rabbits to chase.
In the next half mile I’d keep my pace steady and would soon blow by both Ned and Benjamin. Sanderson was running right with me, but passed me slightly before the hairpin turnaround at the end of the runway. The hairpin turn was really tricky and it seemed to come out of nowhere, which probably cost me at least a few seconds in the middle of that second mile (5:57).
Heading back to the start/finish line, I could judge how much distance I had put between myself and Ned/Benjamin. It seemed pretty respectable, and I felt comfortable pushing the pace just a little bit to try and catch Sanderson. The last thing I wanted to do was to not push myself the last mile of a 5K, because that’s what 5Ks are about : constant but short-lived pain. The only regrets come after the race when you realize you didn’t suffer enough. With a final mile of 5:48 and a nice kick to the finish I was the holder of a new PR (18:20) and came in 8th overall — my first Top-10 finish in a race to date. I wasn’t able to catch up with Sanderson (18:12), but it was good motivation while it lasted.
Splits: 5:55, 5:52, 5:56 (+ some change for the .1 mi)
Well, I’ve finally done it : I’ve finally gone sub-6 pace at an NYRR race. I knew it was long overdue for me to finally break 6-minute pace, except that my race season was cut short last year due to injury and I had done no speedwork since August. Given those conditions, it was a little surprising (and incredibly satisfying!) that I managed to both PR and go sub-6.
I ran almost the entire race alone. It was so crowded at the start that I didn’t see anyone that I knew. Also I wasn’t wearing my FRNY garb, so a lot of Front Runner friends probably didn’t notice me until after the race was over.
The details of the race itself are pretty boring. It’s just a 5K, so I just went out a sub-6 pace and tried to hold on. And by the time 3.10685596 miles had gone by, that’s exactly what I did. There was light rain, which was helpful to keep me cool. Everyone complains about the hills at Coogan’s, but to be honest they didn’t seem to bother me at all.
I’m going to try and use this little victory to motivate me for my bigger goals in the year: putting in a hell of a half marathon (1:22?), and then attempting to break 3 hours in my October marathon. It’s going to be a lot of work getting there, but anything worth having is worth fighting for.
