Race Report: Club Championships (5-Miler)

Sure haven’t written a race report in a while. Not because of the reason you’d guess (hadn’t run any races), but because my experience was much the same throughout each one. Had I PR’d in one of them, I probably would’ve said something at least, but believe me, I didn’t PR. But no real regrets here other than that I probably should’ve come back from Boston in April and started speedwork immediately and kept at it through June and beyond. But I didn’t, I didn’t even show up for tempo runs until the end of June, and so my race times were slower than they were in spring. Guess what? I got over it.

So my race experiences became very predictable. I would show up, start out with a slower first mile than normal, by about 10-20 seconds, then I’d try to make it up with a faster pace. Then the heat and/or humidity would strike and with 1-2 miles to go in each race I knew I wasn’t going to break any records. Crossing the finish line was never particularly easy, but I knew if I gave it 90% or more I’d end up with a professional photo of my breakfast crossing the finish line before I did. So I kept my effort just a little on the down low, and thus never really got very close to my best finish times.

Last Saturday was the Team Championships race in NYC, and a faster bunch of skinny mofos you could not find anywhere, except maybe right now in Beijing. The men had their own race at 8AM, and as it was, fewer than 800 finished the race. We were put in rather tightly-controlled pace corrals, and I was in the third one, when I’m usually in the first. I wasn’t complaining, I did not want shoe tread marks on my back from speedsters running 5:30 minute/miles, so I was happy right where I was. Surrounded by several friends from my running club, we all looked like we would’ve been just as happy bagging the race and hitting the International House of Pancakes. In other words, my kind of people.

Before taking off I noticed a guy not far in front of me with way too much swag and flair going on. Expensive sunglasses, headphones, iPod, etc. People, you don’t need to pack for a five mile race. A marathon in Death Valley, yes, but not a 5-miler in New York City. So I commented on this sad state of affairs to someone behind me, who half-agreed with me. Oh well. Swag Boy is so cool, though he would just have to listen that much harder for all the rest of us out on the course.

So we took off and I realize at the 1-mile marker that even with the 10-second delay to get to the chip mats at the start I would have to make up about 20 seconds on the next mile just to be at PR pace. And then during the second mile I realized that with the 90% humidity it wasn’t too likely; the temperature was great, right about 70, but the humidity was way too high for me. Damn, it’s happening, I’m breathing too heavily in this soggy atmosphere. Again.

So I pass some runners, some I know, and some runners pass me. You know how it is. Same old story. And the hills of Central Park, which I know every inch of, are still not easy to do at a faster-than-normal pace.

Before we arrive at Cat Hill, one of two steep hills on the course, I see Swag Boy and his headphones and assorted paraphernalia pass me. I keep his pace, running about ten feet behind him, and then on the hill he hits the wall. Did I mention I’m rather good at keeping my pace on hills? Well, Swag Boy found out, and I passed him with not much problem, and never saw him again. Folks, if you’re going to be running a hilly race course sometime soon, train on one.

After all that hubris, I was soon repaid with the nasty urge to reexamine recent food choices. Since it wasn’t the longest race, I sucked up the nausea and finished up. Not before two idiots decided to cut me off with about 15 feet of room on the course. It wasn’t crowded at all, really, but they just had to pass me (which is fine, go right ahead), and then had to take an immediate left into my lane so they could run about a foot and a half right in front of me. What is this, the New Jersey Turnpike? Ever been driving on an empty 3-lane highway and then out of nowhere, somebody drives past and then gets in front of you in your lane, only to slow down? So of course, both times I let out a sarcasm-laced ‘Thanks’. The first guy who cut me off either didn’t hear me or just ignored me. The second heard me and mumbled something like ‘sorry’ that didn’t sound overly convincing. I know, I should probably take a Zoloft or something and move on, but living in a world of Me First and The Gimme Gimmes (an actual rock band name I didn’t make up) just pisses me off.

So I finished up, just in time to see my race time was about 30 seconds slower than my PR. A loud sigh followed, but I’m relieved I didn’t end up puking and crawling all over the chip mats. Five miles in 32:31 is perfectly OK for me, blazingly fast for many and embarrassingly slow for others as well. I see some friends and everybody talks about how nice the weather was and I smile weakly and quietly disagree.

To be fair, there were some fast finish times out there. The top twelve finishers ran a pace of less than 5 minute/miles, and there were so many speedy guys ahead of me that my race stats sucked out loud. I came in about the middle of the pack, and I never do that, but I knew going in what I was up against. So what, I wasn’t that far off my best time.

Well, as I’ve said, all my race experiences this summer have been just like last Saturday’s, with comparable finish times.

6/28 Pride Run (5 miles) - 34:03
7/13 Park to Park (10K) – 41:20
7/19 Run for Central Park (4 miles) – 26:18
and then this race, where at least I ran my fastest pace this summer.

Sure, it’s been hot, but not too brutal, like ‘close the course’ brutal. I know I’ll soldier on, and we’ll all survive to race another day. But in case you wanted to know, at least for me, it’s been an imperfect race season in an imperfect world. If you have had the same season, you are not alone.