Catching up: Part III - Super 5K, Clamdigger, Backroad Ramble

This will be my final installment in the "Catching Up" series - a string of posts recapping races from earlier this year that I was too busy/lazy to write about at the time. This time, we'll go way back to the spring.

Race #1: Super 5K, Narragansett, 2/1/2015
Results here.
I actually wrote this up back in February but never put the finishing touches on it, so you're getting the draft version here. Don't complain; it's better than nothing. Or is it?

At the start, I lined up in the second row, next to Tommy, just behind Bob Jackman. Bob asked what I was shooting for, and I told him I didn't know due to the horrible training I've put in over the past several weeks. I then tried to say something like, "I'll be thrilled if I can hang with you today." Instead, I said, "I'm might have a bad enough race that I run with you, you slow fool." Well, not exactly that, but it was nearly as insulting.

A colorful crew heading out from the start.

We took off, and I settled into eighth or ninth place. Matt Pelletier and D.J. Principe were far ahead in no time at all. The rest of us would be racing for third today. Ahead of me were a few unknowns, as well as Jonny and Bob. After passing Jonny and a kid who'd gone out too hard, I was a few seconds behind Bob and his pack of three. I didn't have much of a race plan other than wanting to be directly behind Bob going into the headwind up the hill on Earle's Court. (He's big-boned. That's a compliment.) I saw the turn up ahead and put in a little surge just in the nick of time. As we rounded the corner, I pulled squarely into Bob's wind shadow. Our little pack crossed the first mile in 5:19. The group slowed down quite a bit on the second half of the hill, and I was tempted to make a move, but energy conservation won out, and I bade my time a while longer.

As we crested the hill and turned left, we said goodbye to the wind, and I said goodbye to the pack. I urged Bob to come with me, hoping we could push each other as we often do, but today wasn't his day.

Rounding the turnaround cone, I had a chance to see how things were playing out behind me. Bob and another guy were still within striking distance, maybe five seconds back. Muddy, Jonny, and Tom were not far behind, with Jeff following shortly after. I did my best to give shout outs to all the WTAC members in the race (there were a ton), but I mostly just drooled and spat at them.

The rest of the race was pretty uneventful. D.J. was far ahead, and Matt Pelletier was totally out of sight. I looked back when I got to Ocean Rd and saw I'd opened up a gap on the chase pack. While it would have been nice to run with someone during the final mile, I actually didn't mind being in no-man's land. It allowed me to relax, which could only help me avoid completely destroying myself in this race after the miserable month of training I'd put in during January. (For perspective, my total mileage for the month was the same as Muddy's mileage in the previous week.)

The only interesting thing that happened the rest of the way was nearly getting run over by a 15-passenger van that turned left onto a road just as I was crossing. (This after being told by the volunteer directing traffic that he "had me covered.") I stopped short and skirted the back end of the van and continued on my way. When I rounded the final corner to head to the finish, I was surprised to see the clock already in the 16:30s. I crossed in 16:42, my slowest road 5K in two years, and only 10 seconds faster than the Resolution Beach 5K. I might have cruised it in, but I still ran hard, so the result was pretty disappointing.

I was thrilled to see Muddy finish close behind (just missing breaking 17 again...), then Jonny a few steps in back of Bob and Dave, followed closely by Tom, running his first race since August. Jeff was our 5th man, just over 18 minutes

Closing in the on the finish.

The most intriguing part of this race is the team competition. The scoring goes five deep, so it favors large teams with a solid front five. This would seem to benefit WTAC, but TNT brought a talented squad that was going to give us a run for our money. Last year, we'd dominated the team competition, but we'd be without out top two varsity finishers from a year ago, as Mike Galoob had"graduated" to bigger and better things, and Ryan Woolley is studying abroad, so to speak.

After the race, we tried to figure out if we'd pulled it off, but it was hard to know if we were counting all of the Turtles who'd been in the mix, since Jeff's implicit rule that team members must be wearing a team jersey was not being enforced on this day. There was a moment of drama as we awaited the announcement of the team winner, and we all erupted with joy when WTAC was proclaimed the victor.

It turned out to be nearly as close a race as we'd imagined, with WTAC winning by a little over a minute. Interestingly, the team winners were determined based on overall time, and not on place, as the website stated (and had been done in years past). My assumption about the scoring played a big part in my effort over the final mile. If I'd known that we'd be judged by our time, I would have kept grinding it out rather than cruising in. Next time, I'll remember to check on this in advance.

Celebrating the team titles!

For reference, here's how the team competition would have looked if it had been scored based on overall places or on the places including only runners on teams. No matter how you slice it, we would've won.

Overall places:
WTAC - 3, 4, 9, 10, 17 = 43
TNT - 2, 7, 8, 13, 22 = 52

Men's Team places:
WTAC - 2, 3, 6, 7, 10 = 28
TNT - 1, 4, 5, 9, 11 = 30

However, we were not nearly as speedy as the year before. For comparison, here are the times of the top-5 WTAC finishers from the two years.

Overall time: 86:55
Chris 16:42
Muddy 17:03
Jonny 17:25
Tom 17:30
Jeff 18:15

2014 team: 82:16
Galoob 15:29
Woolley 16:16
Chris 16:33
Tom 16:45
Muddy 17:13

Race #2: Clamdigger 5M, Westerly, April 12, 2015
Results here.
Almost nothing worthy of a recap happened in this race, but that hasn't stopped me before. I ran fairly well at this race in 2014, nearly breaking 27:00, and I thought if I played my cards right, I might have a chance of sneaking under this time. No need for suspense in this post -- I didn't even come close. I went out a little behind the speedy Nick Migani, last year's runner-up, and watched him slowly, and then not so slowly, pull away. I ran by myself the entire way and was the only runner to finish in a span of two minutes between the 1st and 3rd place finishers. My final time was 27:46, with splits of 5:21, 5:28, 5:36, 5:33, 5:36. It was a disappointing race. The best part of the day by far was watching Seb run in the kids' race on the beach. He face-planted right before the finish but eventually got up and made it across, with only miles of sand behind him. And that's all I have to say about that day.

Taking off next to Tommy. (Photo by Jana)

Outkicking 5K runners. It was nice to finally have some company out there. (Photo by Jana)

Race #3: Backroad Ramble 5K, Charlestown, June 7, 2015
Results here.
This was another race I'd wanted to check off my list, especially with all of the effort Jeff had put into revamping the course in recent years. I was not disappointed - it was a fun course with superb post-race activities and food.

The first hundred meters of this race are unique in that we have to charge up the wooden steps of an outdoor amphitheater to reach the trail. I was cautious, both to conserve energy and to avoid stumbling, and found myself in 5th place or so at the top. I started to ease my way toward the front and took the lead by the time we reached the dirt road at the other end of the parking lot. I glanced at my watch and noticed that the pace was far too slow for a 5K, so I started to push until the effort was right for the distance. By the time I reached the mile (5:35), I was alone, but I knew Matthew Walker and others were still lurking behind, so I kept on pushing.

I felt excellent on the trails in the campground. It's really quite enjoyable trying to run 5K pace on single track; the pace seems so much faster than it truly is. I glanced back at some point in this 2nd mile and didn't see anyone; this gave me a jolt of adrenaline, and I kept on pounding. Mile 2 split was 5:41.

I continued running hard on the return of the lollipop loop (the stem?) and made one final surge up the last hill and then down the steep road to the finish. Final mile split was 5:34, for a finish time of 17:28. Matthew, Jeff, and Jonny followed shortly after - a nice showing by WTAC up front.

While I didn't get to play on the water trampoline afterward, I did enjoy running with Seb in yet another kids' race (he was last again but his Batman shirt drew rave reviews) and then kayaking out to the trampoline to watch Jeff and Jonny jump around like the children they are.

Up the final hill. (Photo by Jana)

Pacing Seb through the kids' race. Look at that form!

The always intimidating WTAC squad. (Photo by Jana)

Posing with Batman after the race. (Photo by Katie)

Catching up, Part II: Blessing of the Fleet

This is Part II in the "Catching Up" series, a belated set of posts about races that took place earlier in 2015. Keeping with the old adage, "Thou must etch in the scrolls a race write-up before thou doth loses the toenail killed in the race," I will eke out this post just in time. Four months after destroying it during the Blessing of the Fleet, the toenail on the second toe of my left foot now has mere days left. So, let's roll up the scrolls and get on to the post...

July 24 - Blessing of the Fleet 10M

I loved the Blessing in 2014 and was looking forward to the 2015 version. I had really hoped to crank out a great time this time, but, as usual, an injury kept me from doing the kind of training I needed to. (This time it was hip bursitis.) I really hope to one day write about a race without including the second part of that sentence, as this seems to happen far too often. Still, I had lofty goals, and I wanted to break 57, which would be roughly a minute faster than I ran last year.

I met up with Jonny and Woolley before the race and then bumped into the Walkers, Mike B, young Eckel, and Jackman, and we took a casual group warm up, during which I grabbed a GU off the tire of Katie's car, where she'd lovingly stashed it for me. On my way back to my car, I ran past a face I hadn't seen in many years, that of a guy who used to dominate high school track in New York State's Section 9 in the late '90s. I think we recognized each other, but neither of us wanted to be the one to make the first move, so we just passed each other by. It was the first of many times I'd be passed on the day.

Cruising in the first mile. U-S-A!!

Back at the start, I lined up next to Jonny and Woolley, amidst a throng of high schoolers and a bunch of speedy grown-ups. I took off conservatively, but not as cautiously as I usually would. I wanted to maintain 5:40 effort as long as I could, and I was OK with the first mile being a little faster, since it was net downhill. As we headed toward the bottom of the opening hill, I noticed how far ahead the lead pack was. I was 30 seconds behind and essentially leading the chasers. (We weren't actually chasing the front pack, of course, but what else could I call us?)

On Ocean Road, I was caught by a pack of high schoolers and wanted to hang with them for as long as I could. They were a focused group with one notable exception. That one guy was writing the book on youthful arrogance, and I found myself wishing he'd trip and fall on his smug little face. Did I mention I've become a crotchety old man?

A man among children. Literally.

I was even more annoyed when those kids dropped me at the start of the fourth mile. I was still running my intended splits and felt great, but I couldn't match their pace. Up the hill at mile 5, I watched that pack pull farther ahead and realized they weren't coming back. Each time I got caught by another runner, I hung with them for as long as I could before letting go. I was like an eel someone was trying to hold with soapy gloves; I kept getting dropped. (In other news, I just got nominated for worst metaphor of 2015.)

Going up the long hill on 108, I saw the most threatening sky I'd ever seen in a race. Dark clouds were heading our way. I was a little worried but figured the chances that lightning would strike me instead of the thousands of other people hanging around the race course was pretty slim. The skies opened, and the deluge began. I was drenched within a few minutes, which was probably more of a benefit than a hindrance, as I needed to cool off. 

On the bright side, I didn't have to shower that night.

Probably a good thing I didn't go with the white shorts...

By this point, I was doing everything I could to keep the pace in the high 5:40s, but it was a struggle. Heading into the final mile, my toenail was killing me, and the dreaded calf cramps began. It was so frustrating not to be able to respond as I got passed by two guys in the last 800 meters. Katie was standing right around this spot, and after the race all she could say was, "Oof, honey." So much for thinking I at least looked good.

I can't be sure, but I think that lady just passed me.

Delirium has set in.

I finished in 57:24, still a PR, but I was terribly disappointed in the race. I know I was in better shape than that, based on my previous races. Things just didn't come together in this one. Maybe it was racing Beavers the week before, or maybe it was that I went out too fast. Either way, I was feeling unfulfilled by the experience. That is until Jonny, Woolley, and I got to have a drink with a former Super Bowl champ in his house. All thoughts of the race vanished after this brush with greatness. The night ended with a group dinner at Phil's in Wakefield. It was a great end to a mediocre day.

This says it all. A fast start and a not-so-fast finish. I had good intentions. 

Catching up, Part I: Run with the Beavers

Life got very busy earlier this year, and somehow race write-ups did not make it to the top of the priority list. As a result, I missed a few. So, this is the first in a series of very late posts attempting to recap races from 2015 before their details completely vanish from my memory.

July 18 - Run with the Beavers 10M trail race

This was a race I was very excited about. There would be a great battle for the win between Greg, Galoob, and Woolley, and I hoped to spectate for as long as I could. I typically run a pretty conservative pace for long trail races like this one (and did exactly that the previous year), but I had a different, more dangerous approach in mind this time. I'd go out with the top dogs and see how long I could hang on. 

Milling about the start. I like how this picture captures our pre-race idiosyncrasies. 

Ditto for this one. You can never stretch your IT band too much.

The great RD telling us how dumb we are if we go off course. Have you ever seen such an energetic group? Jonny looks like he's the last one waiting to get picked for a team in gym class.

Lap 1: The race starts up a dirt road for a quarter mile, which gave me some time sneak ahead of Brightman and Jonny, right behind Galoob, as we entered the single track. I ran in Galoob's footsteps for the first few miles, trying to match his surprisingly quick cadence while letting him dictate the pace. It was spicy, yet we still lost a few seconds to Greg and Woolley, who were already engaged in their duel. Galoob picked it up when we spilled back onto the dirt road through the covered bridge, and I had no choice but to let him go. Back on the single track, I managed to work my way into his shadow again, and we pulled up right behind Greg and Woolley. The four of us clambered through the technical section after the stream crossing and up the short, steep hill. Woolley got some separation up the hill, and Galoob gave chase. Meanwhile, Greg had fallen back to me and I started to wonder if I had a chance to beat the trail king. Just as I had that thought, Greg opened up his stride on the long descent near the end of the loop and left me in his wake. I fumbled with my GU and finished the first loop very tired and pretty sure I'd see no more of the top 3 the rest of the way through.

Up the first hill, eyeing my spot behind Galoob

1st lap time = 31:43 (2 minutes faster than last year)

Lap 2: I was astonished at how fast I'd run the first loop and at how far behind I'd already fallen. I had no illusions of keeping up that same pace on the second loop and decided to ease off for a mile to ensure I'd be able to finish strong and avoid the legendary calf cramps of last year's race. By the time, I'd entered the woods, I might as well have been the only person on the planet, for there was not a soul in sight. I began to get worried that I'd somehow lost the trail (despite Bob's declaration that anyone who does is an idiot, or something along those lines). I went a little further without seeing any markings and really got nervous. Just as I thought about backtracking, I saw some movement ahead. Was I catching someone? Or did another runner take a wrong turn? I figured it was the latter, as the person ahead was walking. As I got closer, I saw it was Galoob. I asked if he was OK, and he told me to keep going. I didn't know what had happened, but I figured it would only be a matter of time before he gathered himself and tracked me down. I ran scared the whole rest of the race but never saw him (or anyone else, for that matter) the rest of the way. 

No man's land.

Mustering a smile, which promptly turned to a frown when Scott told me how far behind Greg I was.
(Photo by the legendary Scott Mason)

2nd lap time = 33:36

Total time = 1:05:19 - nearly three minutes faster than last year

I was thrilled with my time and happy I'd decided to take a chance and run with the leaders. It wasn't the smartest way to run, but it was definitely the most fun. It was too bad Galoob had to drop, as it made the team race much less dramatic (WTAC beat the defectors handily thanks to great showings by Woolly, Muddy, and Seth). I should also mention that Brightman race a heck of a race for fourth place, and Jonny gutted one out after losing his shoe. I still think he should have left it behind and retrieved it on the second loop, but he wisely chose the safer option.

As always, a fun and challenging race put on by Bob Jackman. 

It's the one day he's not a rival, so we can pretend to be friendly.

Victorious Team WTAC. What happened to my chest? In retrospect, we should all be grateful that Woolley kept his shirt on.

XTERRA Point Mugu

Having now lived in Southern California for seven weeks, I've learned to expect two things from every trail run: hills and heat. I've done my best to acclimate to both, but were seven weeks enough to prepare for my first race out here - the XTERRA Point Mugu 18K?

I took a scouting mission to check out this set of trails the weekend before the race. Wow. Here were my takeaways:

No, not this Ray Miller. (But this card
immediately came to mind when I saw the name).

• Dangerous single track. The first and last two miles of the race are up and down the Ray Miller Trail - a winding single-track along the flank of the mountain, rising up from the ocean. The trail itself is smooth and well maintained, but you are never more than two feet away from a terrible fall off the side of the mountain. Not really an issue on the way up, when your speed is moderated by the steep grade, but coming down is a different story. Even at a relatively slow pace during the scouting run, I nearly skidded off the trail around a number of turns. I could only imagine what race day would bring. Not to mention that passing someone on this trail seemed like it would be nearly impossible. 
• Hills! You climb 1000 feet over the first two miles. Then descend 1000 feet. Then climb 1000 feet. Then descend 1000 feet. It's cruel.
• Exposure. No trees anywhere, thanks to the Springs Fire of 2013. This makes for some spectacular vistas all around, but also for a lot of time baking under the sun.

From the top of the Ray Miller trail, looking back down to where the race starts and ends. 

Being new to the area, I haven't yet figured out where I rank among other trail runners, which means I'd be going into the race blind. Who was the local Gazelle, Jonny, Muddy, Tommy 5K, etc.? Which guy would set a good pace? Who would go out too fast and blow up? Who would be lurking behind? I'd just have to go out and run my own race and watch the pieces come together.

On race day, there were two major wildcards - my IT band and the weather. The IT band mysteriously started hurting the day before the race. The pain was bad whenever I sat down, stood up, climbed stairs, or descended stairs. Heading into a race with 2000 feet of elevation gain, these symptoms were worrisome. I babied it all day, used my magic potions, foam rolled, and hoped for the best. It was still there in the morning, but this was an expensive race, and I wasn't about to quit before I started.

As for the weather, did I mention it has been HOT here? There average high since we moved here has been 85 degrees - and this is for the months of September and October. From 10/8 - 10/12, just a week before the race, the daily highs were 92, 108, 99, 94, 91! I love running in the heat, but this has been brutal. Would race day bring more of the same? As it turned out, not even close. Race morning temperatures were in the 60s, with 90+% humidity and full cloud cover. It felt like every summer morning in Rhode Island. Maybe it wasn't quite home field advantage, but it wouldn't hurt me.

The race course this year was apparently changed from years past, due to closure of one of the main trails used by the course. We'd instead be running a lollipop loop, with the first and final 2-3 miles on a single track called the Ray Miller Trail, which climbed 1000' from the start line. Because of the narrow trail, we were sent off in self-selected waves of 20ish. I started with the first group (I must think I'm pretty special) and, not knowing who these guys were, settled into fifth place before we hit the trail. Up we went, the leader immediately gapping the field, while I stayed at the back of the chase train. I noticed that all but one of the runners in front of me were donning backward caps. This discontinuity in the backward hatters (of which I was one) bothered my inner Monk. I remedied this as soon as I could, moving into fourth after a half mile and sitting there for a bit as we ascended, now content with the symmetry. The two guys directly in front of me looked like solid runners with efficient strides, and they were staying strong, though gradually slowing. They mustn't have liked me sitting behind them, because at around the two mile mark, they pulled over and let me go by. I felt a gap open up quickly and hoped it would be the last I saw of those guys for the rest of the race.

A mile into the race - up, up, and away

After exiting the Ray Miller single track, there's a water stop (I took a swig), and then a long descent down a dirt fire road (2.5 miles at -7% grade). There are points along this part of the course where you can see maybe half a mile in front of you (or, really, across a canyon to the trail on the other side), and I could see just how impossible it would be to reel in the leader. He had 2-3 minutes on me already and wasn't showing signs of slowing down. Behind me, the pursuers were maybe 10-15 seconds back and not going anywhere.

I am not a great downhill runner. I always feel like my feet are slapping loud enough to be heard from outer space. My pace was hovering in the 5:20s, which didn't seem nearly fast enough for the gravitational advantage I was getting. Sure enough, I got caught by the third place guy (Mario Lopez - AC Slater?...this is Malibu after all) right as we reached the bottom of the hill and turned onto the only flat part of the course - a 1/3 mile stretch on Sycamore Canyon Road. He got some space on me, but I tried my best to stay on him, hoping I'd again be stronger on the uphill that awaited. I closed on him little by little as we headed up the Fireline trail (1.5 miles / 750 ft). The many switchbacks gave us too many chances for awkward moments of eye contact. The last part of this trail is the most difficult of the course - 1/4 mile at 20% incline with poor footing. According to Strava, my pace dropped into the 13:00s(!) here, yet I managed to catch and pass the guy back. This trail terminates back at the fire road, but there is no respite from the climbing. Another 200 feet still awaited before we'd drop back down the Ray Miller trail. Much to my dismay, my adversary still had something in the tank. We ran side by side up the trail until he reached down for a little more before we hit the single track. I knew I was toast at this point, as he was clearly a better downhill runner based on his earlier performance. He seemed to put 10 seconds on me within the first 1/4 mile of the final descent.

This is the view for nearly half the race. Makes it hard to focus on the trail.

I was content to cruise to a third place finish when I noticed that I had more company. There were two guys only 5 or 10 seconds behind me. This was the worst-case scenario -- a runaway train on treacherous trails trying to hold off another two runaway trains. I started going as fast as I could go without feeling like I was risking my life, and then I went faster. At first, it seemed I was keeping the gap constant. Then, I noticed that the guy in fifth had passed the other guy (who'd been in fourth for the entire race) and was closing fast on me. In an instant, he was on my heels. He was everything I was not - a smooth, efficient, QUIET, downhill runner -- and now he was poised to take the final podium spot. I did everything I could to delay the inevitable while I waited for him to ask to pass. Instead, when he finally spoke, he said, "Boy, that guy's just not cracking," referring to 2nd place, who was still 10-15 seconds ahead. I laughed and said, "Go after him. What are you waiting for?" To my surprise, he replied, "Oh, I'm not in the race, just trying to help you out." Good lord. Not in the race? I'd nearly fallen to my death several times because of this guy, but he's not in the race? On the flip side, if it wasn't for him, I'm almost certainly have been caught by the next guy. We continued on like this for a bit until he finally passed, saying, "Let me pull you for a bit." But I couldn't match his incredible pace no matter what I did. I continued to pound the final half mile, my quads screaming, occasionally glancing over my shoulder, until I was finally sure I wouldn't be caught. I crossed in third place, 25 seconds out of 2nd and only 6 in front of 4th. My final mile on the single track was 4:49! I still can't believe that. For perspective, when I scouted the course the previous week, I ran what I thought to be a reasonable pace for a sane person. My split for that mile was 6:28. It's amazing what we'll do for a meaningless place in a meaningless race.

A few hundred feet from the finish, legs fried from the downhill

I was fairly satisfied with the race, but it's hard to know if this was a good performance or not, having never run the course before and knowing none of the competitors. I have a couple of road races planned in the next two months, and those should be better gauges of my fitness. Still this was a fun race, with pretty strong competition. I'll probably try a few more of these XTERRA races before the season is through.

Final time: 1:10:19
Place: 3rd
Results are here.

Post-race notes:

1. The swim in the ocean afterwards was really refreshing. Got a scare when something large and soft-bodied was thrown into my legs by a wave. Still not sure what it was. I also saw a sea lion playing in the waves a few dozen feet away.
2. I was nearly as sore from this race as I was from Ragnar. I was hobbling around the office for a few days afterwards, getting funny looks from my coworkers. Good thing Jeff wasn't there to comment. 

Seb wondering why Daddy isn't on that tall box

3rd place is almost as good as National League champs. Let's go Mets!

Final races in RI: Battle of Stonington and WTAC Fun Run Mile

Battle of Stonington 5K

As August drew to a close, I prepared to say goodbye not just to the summer, but to Rhode Island (for awhile). Work is taking me to southern California for the next 18 months, and while I'm excited about the adventures that await, I'm also sad to leave behind a place that has truly felt like home for the past three years. Running has played more than a small part in our family's connection to the area, and I have my WTAC teammates to thank for that. I feel like I've known these guys for my whole life (and I'm OK with that). Thanks to Strava and blogs, I won't be too far out of the loop while I'm away, but that doesn't mean I can't lament the move at least a little bit. OK, the lamenting is over, now let's get to the rest of the post.

The last month of our time in RI was hectic and stressful due to the move and closing out the project I was getting destroyed by at work. I still got in my usual amount of running, but life got in the way of everything else besides that. (One of the benefits of running just 3-4 days a week is that my schedule can absorb additional activities without impacting my running volume.) I wasn't sure I'd have time to squeeze in another race or two, but when Jeff sent out an email about the Battle of Stonington 5K, I registered right away, blocking off my schedule that evening. I'd been wanting to get over to a Stonington Fun Run or two this year, but it never materialized, and this would be my last chance to experience the atmosphere in the borough. 

On race day, I got to the course very early and found myself in line for packet pickup behind a fit looking kid whose name I didn't recognize. I made a mental note to watch for him in the race. After a while, I met up with Tom, Mike B, and Shara for a warm-up around part of the course. We went out way too early, as the race started 15 minutes later than I'd realized. I ended up taking another short jog with some accelerations closer to the race start. It was brutally hot, and I felt exhausted, but that's pretty much the way I felt all summer, so at least I was prepared.

I walked into the starting area with Jeff and Tom and got ready for the two-lap course around historic Stonington. Nearby, I noticed Will Sanders and Nick Migani, both of whom I figured would be far ahead of me during the race. I didn't know anyone else and figured I'd run my own race and see how things shook out.

Lap 1: As expected, The Colonel and Migani jumped off the line and into the lead. They were joined by a that fit-looking younger guy I'd seen earlier. Now I noticed his legs were shaved. If you're going to shave your legs, you better be fast, and this guy was at least playing the part at the onset.

Unexpectedly running in the lead pack a half-mile into the race.

The race starts down a hill, and I thought this would equate to a speedy first quarter-mile. Interestingly, the leaders slowed to a casual pace as we descended and rounded the 180-degree turn. I looked at my watch and saw we were cruising at 5:25 pace. This was far slower than even I wanted to run, so it was clear they were playing some kind of game. I was a little concerned that my overall time would pay the price of their lollygagging and was tempted to pass, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before one of them got the itch and order was restored.

Ever so gradually, the pace accelerated, and before long the average pace had dropped to 5:14, which is right around where it stayed when we hit the mile mark. I benefited from the slow start in that I was able to use the front pack as a wind shield on the way down Water St., where there was a gentle but noticeable headwind. I started losing some ground as the group of three ahead continued to pick it up while I settled into my goal race pace. By the time we reached the end of the first lap, I was 10 seconds back and falling. 1st lap time was ~8:15 - a little slower than I wanted but close.

Dropped. Nearly at the halfway point.

Wait for me, guys!

Lap 2: I watched The Colonel drop the hammer up ahead, while the next two battled for 2nd place. My second mile was ~5:13. I kept the pace steady at the start of the third mile and was surprised to see it increase from 5:15 to 5:26 over the first quarter-mile. I instantly accelerated, assuming I'd lost focus, only to see the pace quickly drop back down to where it had been before. It must have been due to a signal loss, but it got me thinking about the psychological effect of the pace displayed on a GPS watch. I was able to convince myself to speed up not because the pace felt easy, but because my watch told me it should have felt easy. This led to the thought that I should be able to program my watch to tell me I am running too slow just to see how much faster I could actually go. It would have to be randomized, of course, otherwise I'd know what it was up to and make the adjustment in my head. Before I knew it, I really had lost focus and the pace started slipping. Darn GPS watches.

I snapped myself out of those thoughts and back to the situation at hand. By that time, I was rounding the turn at the far end of the course and navigating the side roads leading back to Main St. I noticed that Migani had nearly broken the kid, who was ever so slightly dropping off the pace. They were both so far ahead and looking so strong, it didn't seem feasible that I'd catch them, but crazier things have happened, so I kept working at it.

Weaving through traffic (both cars and people)
while trying to catch Migani.

The finish area started coming into focus way up ahead, and I realized I was running out of time to make a move. I picked up the pace and still felt remarkably good. The kid was faltering. I like to think I still have a kick, and I figured I could hold him off if he tried to match my pace after I passed. Just to be sure, I went by him with an extra surge, hoping to put any thoughts of responding out of his mind. I then saw that Migani wasn't that far up. I mustered what little kick I could, but it was to no avail. He kicked, too, and I settled for 3rd place. My second lap was ~8:00, and the overall time was 16:15 (according to my watch). Given my previous experience in SNERRO races, I wasn't surprised to see the official time listed as 2 seconds slower (16:17). I'm not sure why that always happens, but at least it's consistent. Regardless, it was a road 5K PR, just edging my 16:21 from the CVS 5K in 2013 and the Schonning 5K last year. I still haven't given up on breaking 16 in a road 5K, and I'm sure it can be done, I just need to do some real training without getting injured.

Side note: It turned out that the 4th place finisher is a current college student and very fast 800 runner (1:50 indoors last year), so my confidence in being able to sprint by him was probably unfounded.

Post-race, Jeff escorted me down to the Dogwatch for beverages and awards. What a great spot to enjoy the festivities. I made off with a crisp $20 bill for my 3rd place finish. Meanwhile, Shara won the women's race, and Tom, Jeff, and Mike all won awards in their respective age groups. Shara and I were both interviewed for a Westerly Sun article, which appeared in the paper the following day. Gotta love the local press.

Approaching the finish, all hopes of 2nd place erased.

WTAC Fun Run Mile

I had really hoped to be able to make it to the final fun run of the summer the following Wednesday in Misquamicut. We were flying to California the next day, so it would be my final chance to say goodbye to the crew. However, I'd only be able to make it if the moving guys finished their work in time. I was counting down the hours, then the minutes, until we'd have to leave to make it to the race. It would be close. Every time I thought they'd be finished, there would be another paper to sign or box to load. We finally got into the car with no time to spare, which is when Seb started revolting. He wanted to see the enormous truck pull out of the driveway. Sorry kid, maybe next time we move across the country. He only screamed for a few minutes before falling asleep in the car. I drove dangerously down to Route 1 to get back the time we'd lost.

We missed the kids' race by about 11 seconds but avoided another meltdown by lying to Seb and telling him the kids would run with the grown-ups this week. I got in a four-minute warm-up (in my walking around shoes, as I had packed all but the heaviest of my running shoes on the moving truck) with some accelerations before jogging over to the starting line, where I saw more teammates than expected. Jeff, Matthew, Mike, Muddy, Jonny, Woolley. What a group. Woolley's appearance was especially disruptive, as I'd figured I'd be running this as a time trial, but now I realized I'd have to do everything I could just to hang on to him. 

I had no time goal; I just wanted to run hard and see what happened. I got out pretty well off the line and found myself behind Jonny (surprise, surprise) as we made our first turn. I'd never run a road mile before, so it took some adjustment to force myself to run something faster than 5K pace. I passed Jonny and tried to keep the pace honest. We twisted our way around the few quick turns early on before exiting onto Crandall. I sensed Woolley easing up onto my shoulder and told him not to wait up for me. Being the polite Kiwi he is, he stayed a half-step behind. My mindset was still very much that of a 5K runner, and only once we turned on Atlantic did I realize the race was almost over. I pushed the pace a bit more, and Woolley hung tight. He finally made a move to go by as we made the last turn onto Elmwood, but I sprinted and was able to hold him off. The official time was 4:43, my fastest mile in quite some time. 

Sadly, I didn't get to say proper goodbyes to anyone, as Seb bit Maisie's foot during the award ceremony, and we hightailed it out of there before anyone had us locked up for public disturbance.

So, instead, let me just say this: Thank you, my running friends, for the great memories these past few years. See you in 2017...

Block Island Triathlon

So, I just did a triathlon. It’s been a long time since I could say that. 10 years, in fact. In 2004 and 2005 I got the tri bug after my arthritic foot forced me to substitute some cycling and swimming for running, and I did six of them in those two years. But I quit cold turkey and had no plan of picking it back up…until my WTAC cycling buddies started applying the pressure to join them at some local RI tris. I successfully resisted the urge last year but my defenses were down this year, and I agreed to consider it. I hadn’t swum in three years (with one notable exception – see the end of this write-up for the exclusive story), and I needed to make sure I wouldn’t drown before officially registering. A month ago, I finally got up the courage to do an open-water swim in Maine. Having survived that, I had no more excuses, and I made a date with the Block Island Triathlon.

A picturesque day as we depart Galilee

Fast forward a month (and three more open water swims!), and I was boarding a 6 AM ferry with Jeff, Matthew, Tommy, Shara, Steve, and Polly for Block Island. It was a gorgeous morning, and none of the intense nerves I used to feel before triathlons were present. I don’t know if it was having the company of friends, or a more mature and relaxed attitude about racing in general, but it was a better pre-race feeling than I remembered. Upon arrival, I picked up my bike (after a moment of panic when I couldn’t find it) and rode over to the race start – a mile up Corn Neck Rd – to pick up my bib, chip, and t-shirt. I was hit with a feeling of queasy nostalgia when I started setting up my stuff in the transition area. I’ve never liked the sheer amount of stuff required for a triathlon, and the transition area forces you to confront it all at once. Wetsuit, goggles, swim cap, body glide, bike shoes, helmet, sun glasses, hat, running shoes, race bib, water bottles, gels, the list goes on and on. Once you locate it all (assuming you’ve remembered it), you then have to lay it out on a postage stamp-sized plot of land. “What is this, a transition area for ants?” I squeezed my stuff into place and sat around for a while to wait for Katie and the kids to arrive on the next ferry. Once they got there, I played in the sand with Seb for a bit before donning my wetsuit and jogging over to the start. I found Tommy and stood with him, awaiting our turn..

Steve regales us with a tale or two on the ferry ride over.

Long line of triathletes on the pilgrimage from the ferry to the start.

The Swim: Time: 9:03, Place: 35 of 354

This triathlon has an interesting swim start, in that you begin by running 50 yards down the beach before jumping into the waves and starting the swim in earnest. This lets the field spread out a bit before the thrashing of dozens of arms and legs commences. I was in the ninth group to start – 2nd among the men – along with the other 30-34-year-olds. Right next to me was Tommy (who kindly zipped up my wetsuit when I couldn’t do it myself; what a gentleman). Our group took off, and I instantly found myself getting dropped by 10 or so guys who were sprinting like they were in the streets of Pamplona. I jumped into the water, being careful not to dislodge my goggles, and tried to find a rhythm. My breathing was out of control from the crazy sand sprint and it took a minute or two before I started a semi-normal breathing pattern. I passed a bunch of the aggressive starters but lost track of how many had dropped me. It’s almost impossible to tell what’s going on in the water around you during a triathlon, and I was mostly concerned with not colliding with slower swimmers from the waves in front of me and trying to swim a straight line around the buoys. I was successful in the first of these, but not so much in the second. After I rounded the first buoy, I spotted the next one and swam in what I thought was a direct route. Instead, I somehow swam out in the ocean and almost collided with the paddle boarder who was ensuring aimless drifters like me didn’t get lost at sea. I recalibrated and swam back at an angle toward the buoy, eventually rounding this one and heading back to shore. By this time, my goggles were fogged up, and I had the hardest time seeing where I needed to go. I followed a couple of other swim caps I could see and hoped they were going the right way. I was thrilled to hit the sand directly in front of the path to the transition zone and even more thrilled to be done with my worst leg of the race.

Summary: I consider any swim in which I’m not asked by a lifeguard if I need help a success (that actually happened at two previous triathlons), so in that regard, I couldn’t be happier with how this went. However, my technique was all over the place, and I never got in a good rhythm. I looked up way too much and still got a little lost out there. There is definitely room for improvement. Grade: B.

Transition 1: Time: 1:12, Place: 4 of 354 

I was wearing a brand new wetsuit that I had tried on for the first time the night before the race. During the trial run, I discovered that it fit really well but was almost impossible to get off. I thought I might have to keep it on for the whole race if I ran into trouble. Well, thanks to liberally-applied Body Glide, I had no trouble on game day. Once it was off, I stepped into my bike shoes, threw on the helmet, and ran out the other side of the zone. It was as smooth a transition as I’ve had, the only issue being that I stepped into the bike shoes while my feet were still covered in sand and small pebbles, which created some discomfort on the ensuing ride. Grade: A-

The Bike: Time: 35:55 (21.0 mph), Place: 11 of 354 (the results say I was 15th, but four of the times ahead of me are almost definitely wrong; probably from cyclists doing just one of the two laps)

I hopped on the bike and took off with a few quick pedal strokes to get some momentum before fastening the straps on my shoes. It took longer than expected, as two of the straps had come out and had to be fed back through their metal guides before Velcroing the rest. I chose to use both Velcro straps but not to fasten the plastic strap near the ankle because I found it challenging to work with during my transition practice session earlier in the week. Of course, never once did I ride my bike with my shoes in this configuration during training, but who says you can’t experiment on race day? A couple of miles into the two-lap course, there is a steep hill. I was in oxygen debt almost immediately and felt like I really struggled up it. I began to wonder if this was going to be a bad day on the bike. I started feeling better after some downhill rest and eventually spotted a familiar figure up ahead – Tommy! I rode behind him for a few minutes and then passed as we headed up a short hill. Even though he was my main age group competition on the day, I really hoped he’d latch on and we could compete together the rest of the way.

The road was crowded with cars and cyclists from earlier start waves on the first loop, and the second got even busier, as cyclists from waves behind me were beginning their first circuit. I had a couple of near-collisions while passing large groups. One moment of dark humor on the second lap: while ascending the big hill, I saw a woman on the side of the road, trying to fix her bike chain. As I rode by, she shrieked to no one in particular, “And I was having such a good f---ing race!” Just another overly intense triathlete…

I felt great on the second bike lap and managed to ride a little bit quicker than the first time around (14:23 vs. 14:36). My one last challenge would be getting out of the bike shoes on the last straightaway and then executing a barefoot dismount. I got the shoes off without a problem (and was glad I didn’t have to contend with that third strap), but as I prepared to swing my right leg over to the left side of the bike, I found my legs to be really wobbly. I lost my balance and nearly ran Steve Schonning into the dunes before jumping off the bike. It probably looked smoother than it felt, because it felt like a Three Stooges skit.

Summary: The bike went about as well as it could have. I put in a good effort without overdoing it, stayed in the big chain ring the whole way, managed to get a few good swigs of water, and got into and out of the pedals with only some minor troubles. Grade: A

Transition 2: Time: 0:49, Place: 7 of 354

This was pretty uneventful. I got the bike back on the rack and stepped into my running shoes without issue. Grabbed my hat and race bib and headed into the sand. Grade: A

The Run: Time: 24:52 , Place: 1 of 354

This wasn’t pretty. Almost immediately after getting my shoes on, I knew I was in trouble. The run starts off through the deep sand, heading toward the ocean before turning right and running parallel to the shore. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. The legs are always a little rubbery after getting off the bike, but this was something different. I expected relief once I hit the firmer sand by the water, but this was only marginally easier. As one of the few shod runners in the race, I was faced with a conundrum: do I run on the harder packed (but steeply sloped) sand by the water and risk water logging my shoes, or do I go up on the shelf above the water line and suffer through the softer sand? I chose the latter and still don’t know if it was the right choice (nor do I know if I’d have been better off going barefoot). I only got a couple of shoefuls of water during the race, but it was a struggle the entire way. The intensity of the sun made it that much more difficult. I was parched, and the few cups of water I snagged over the course of the run didn’t provide much relief. I checked my pace during the first mile and saw I was running in the 6:30s. I figured I’d eventually pick up speed as I acclimated to the run, but I only got slower.

There are a couple of turnarounds on the beach, so I was able to see Tommy and Shara (who was far ahead of everyone) twice and Jeff and Matthew once. They all looked like they were moving way faster than I was. I also discovered that only one guy was ahead of me on the course. I had no idea which starting wave he was in, and I also didn’t know if there were others who started after me but had made up time. I slogged through the interminable final mile, fighting off calf cramps - my constant companion at recent races - as well as a quad cramp, at long last crossing the finish line in 1:11:51. (Turns out, I was almost right about running slower than my teammates. Jeff’s run was a mere 5 seconds slower than mine, and Tommy and Matthew were awfully close as well.)

Summary: I found this run to be harder than any of those snowy winter trail races. I had no spring in my step and was downright exhausted the entire way. I’m not sure if it was from the hard biking, the heat, wearing shoes in the sand, or some combination, but it was absolute misery. Grade: C

Overall: Time: 1:11:51, Place: 2 of 354, Grade: B+ 

Chart of my percentile ranking among competitors in each of my triathlons. Assuming the competition level was equal across all of these races, this shows that BI (the glowing point above) was either my best or second best result in each event. (Note: the big dip for the '05 Skinnyman was partly due to a bad race, and partly due to the competition; that race doubled as the NE triathlon club championship.)

After the race, I headed straight to the water, ostensibly to play with the kids, but really to cool off. What a good father. I didn’t know where I’d finished in the pecking order until getting called up for the second-place water bottle during the award ceremony. It was cool to share a podium spot with Tommy, who nabbed 3rd place despite doing very little running this year. Shara dominated the women’s race, and the Walkers both secured top-3 age group finishes. Steve should have received something for his expert volunteering and all-around good nature. We closed the afternoon with a nice group lunch before heading back to the mainland. In summary, while extremely disappointed with my run, I was thrilled to place 2nd in my first tri in so long (equaling my best ever triathlon finish). Even with a spectacular run, I wouldn’t have caught the winner, so I can’t beat myself up too much, but I still hate knowing I could have done better. Next time…

Seb practices his running after the race.

Scenic Block Island.

Bonus story: I promised a tale about the one time I’d gone for a swim (prior to this summer) since moving to Rhode Island three years ago, so here it is. It was early 2013, and I was recovering from a sprained ankle (surprise, surprise). We’d recently gotten a family pass to the South County YMCA, so I decided I’d take advantage and go for a swim. I hadn’t been in a pool in ages and couldn’t remember the proper etiquette when sharing a lane with others. I asked Katie – an experienced swimmer – for some advice. She said that if I found myself in a lane with someone else to ask them if they’d like to circle swim or to split the lane in half and each use one side. I was nervous about this type of interaction (you know, one in which I had to speak to another human) but chose to embrace the experience. I was relieved when I got to the pool and found one lane totally open. For now, at least, I’d have it all to myself. It didn’t last long. After 10 minutes or so, I spotted a man and women walking into the pool area, trying to decide which lane to join. They loitered near the end of my lane, appearing hesitant. This poor couple looked as unsure of what to do as I would have been had Katie not given me that advice. They were probably beginners, too, and would appreciate a friendly offer to share a lane. I swam up to them, and in my most confident voice said, “You are welcome to hop in this lane with me. We can circle swim!” I moved my finger in a circle in case they were unfamiliar with the term and to demonstrate that I knew what I was talking about. They smiled and said OK, but they still looked a little tentative. I started to swim again and after a few seconds began to get a sick feeling in my stomach. That lady had looked really familiar. And really fit. Where had I seen her before? Not here, obviously, since it was my first time in the pool. We hardly new anyone in Rhode Island at that point, so it wasn’t someone we’d met before. Who the heck was she? Slowly, the a memory began to materialize. Swimmer, TV, 2012 Olympics, Podium, Silver Medal, Bob Costas interview...Elizabeth Beisel. Oh my god. Elizabeth Beisel. I’d just offered Elizabeth Beisel a spot in my swim lane. What do I do? I could sink to the bottom and swim under the other lanes to the side of the pool. Or maybe just stay at the bottom for a while until they forgot about me. Instead, I started to swim as hard as I could so that I could reach the other end before she and her friend caught me. I thrashed and splashed and finally got there, ducking under the lane line just as I was about to be overtaken. Once safely on the other side, I found myself sharing a lane with another star-struck mortal. We made eye contact and gave each other a knowing nod and half smile. I dejectedly swam one more lap and got out of there before I could make more of a fool of myself. And I haven’t been back in a lap pool since.

Ragnar Trail Relay and Four on the Fourth

Yes, yes, I know, I'm a bit behind. With three races coming up the next three weeks, I need to start clearing out my backlog. Let's start with the most recent two races first - the Ragnar New England trail relay and Bridgton Four on the Fourth, run on consecutive weekends over my week off from work in late June / early July.

Ragnar New England

I had the great pleasure of participating as part of Team Foolproof Brewing Co. at the Ragnar trail relay in Northfield, MA. You can find the details and logistics of the race here, and read about a couple of my teammates' experiences here and here.

My day started at work, since our team didn't need to race until 5 PM, but I was able to take off at noon and make my way up to Northfield with plenty of time to spare. I arrived around the same time as Jeff, and the two of us joined the rest of the team at our nice campsite, which was perfectly located close to the race course and restrooms (but fortunately not too close to the restrooms, given the state of affairs later that day).

We passed the time perusing Bob's exquisite spreadsheet that included running order and predicted times. I'd be the team's fourth runner, running the shortest leg first, longest second, and medium distance third. This was fine by me, as I really had no preference, though, in retrospect, I think this was really the ideal order.

Seth led us off, and I eagerly awaited his return. He and I would be running the loops in the same sequence, so I was very much looking forward to his scouting reports. His advice, upon finishing the green loop, was to hold back on the hill, as it was longer and steeper than he'd expected. I made a mental note to heed his suggestion.

Leg 1: Green Loop - 3.5 miles

Working on the belt. (Photo by Jeff)

After a short warmup with Woolley, I headed over to the transition tent and waited for Boj to finish his loop. The sun was still out but fortunately the temperature had cooled a bit; conditions seemed ideal. Boj came into view, and I got into position to receive the bib. It took me a few tries to snap the bib around my waist, but once I did, I settled right down and got to work up the hill. After Seth's warning about the unexpected steepness of the hill on this "easy" loop, I wanted to conserve as much energy as possible in the early going. The trail ascended single- and double-track trails for nearly a mile before leveling off. I hadn't looked at the elevation profile in advance, and for some reason I thought I still had another half-mile of hill to go, so I didn't fully let loose until it was clear I was on my way down. The downhills were fun and relentless. It seemed like they were more plentiful than the ups, which I suppose is a good sign, but I was worried about my joints and quads and didn't want to do too much damage on the first leg of the night. Eventually, the green trail merged with the other two onto a fun single-track section that spilled out into grassy fields to the finish. There were so many people on this section that I spent the majority of the time shouting "on your left" to many a startled runner. I closed strong but in control and handed the bib off to Woolley.

Mile paces: 8:30, 5:20, 5:31, 5:26

Based on Jackman's calculations, I knew I'd have only about 4 hours between legs. I chose to grab my dinner right away so I'd have time to digest before leg 2. All Ragnar participants were treated to Boloco Bowls for dinner. The food was actually pretty good, though I did question the logic of serving Mexican food at a race. Sure enough, most of us suffered from "Boloco Bowels" later in the night. Besides fueling up, I also spent some time on the foam roller (getting some funny looks from onlookers when rolling the front of my quads) and then put my legs up on a chair to let gravity do its job on whatever junk was in there after the first run.

Leg 2: Red Loop - 6.5 miles

Before I knew it, I was up for the Red loop - the longest and most difficult leg on the course, with two hills to summit before a screaming descent on some technical trails. By this time, the sun was long gone, and the darkness added another dimension to contend with. I was fortunate to have use of Galoob's incredible headlamp, which provided more than enough light on the trail. Going up the first hill, I felt that I was moving well, occasionally encountering a slower runner to break up the loneliness of night. It took just over 30 minutes to finally reach the second peak, and then I began the long drop back to the transition area. My memory of this section is mostly gone. The one thought that kept going through my head was, "How am I going to run another one of these?" When I reached the shared single-track at the end of the loop, I merged behind another runner going pretty fast. (Side note: men were much less willing than women to move over and let me pass during the race, further proving that all guys are jerks.) I worked hard to get around him (nearly running headlong into a tree while trying to pass) and immediately found myself behind another runner. As I got ready to pass him, he sped up and kept up a very solid pace. Turns out his headlamp had died and he was just waiting for someone else to come along so he could see where he was going. I figured I'd be nice and run behind him for a bit, but I found myself barely able to hang on. When the trail opened up onto the field, he pulled away. In the process of trying to hang with this guy, I'd been pulled along to a quick final mile, but my legs were toast.

Mile paces: 9:28, 9:15, 8:27, 6:31, 7:22, 5:48, 5:38

My second leg ended a little after midnight, and the next four hours were not too enjoyable. I needed to rest, but I couldn't fall asleep. I don't know if it was the excitement of the night, not wanting to miss out on hanging with my teammates, or the 150% humidity, but I just couldn't seal the deal. I nonetheless closed my eyes for a couple of hours in the hopes that I would trick my body into thinking I'd gotten a full night's sleep. Sometime after 5 AM, I pulled on my cold, wet jersey and dragged myself back over to the transition tent for the yellow loop. My stomach was in knots from whatever that Boloco bowl had done.This would be tough.

Leg 3: Yellow Loop - 4.7 miles

Daylight was beginning appear, and this gave me some energy as I started up a hill one final time. This loop had another long, steep hill over the first 1.5 miles, before, like the others, descending back to the finish. I put everything I had into the hill, but my legs had no pop in them. I trudged up and over the top and then tried to let loose on the way down, but that didn't work so well either. On steep downhill miles, I was hardly able to run sub-7 pace. These felt like different legs than the ones that were running sub-5 down a hill on my first loop. My shins were absolutely killing me from the slapfest my feet were throwing on the descent. Somehow, I got a surge of energy once I got within a mile of the finish and managed to run my fastest final mile of the event, grateful to hand off the darn bib one last time.

Mile paces: 9:37, 7:56, 6:51, 6:37, 5:16

Aftermath: Thankfully, there was no other running to do, as I could scarcely put one foot in front of the other. My calves and quads were shot, and my gait elicited more than a little laughing out of our eldest team member, Jeff. I still enjoyed watching the rest of the team finish their loops, each looking as physically spent as the rest. We all crossed the line together with Bob, 15 hours, 20 minutes after starting. As exhausting as it was, I had an absolute blast. Many thanks to Bob for rounding up a crew and organizing all of the logistics. Oh, and we won, so that was nice, too!

Aftermath of the aftermath: I came awfully close to falling asleep at the wheel many times on my drive to Maine after the race. I'd never before stayed up all night, and my body was not happy about it. Having Jonny in the car for the majority of the ride may have saved my life, as his conversation and moose watching exploits kept me entertained. I couldn't do more than shuffle my feet for two days after the race, and a run on the third day was like getting stabbed in the calves on every single step. It was a full week before the calves were not debilitatingly sore. Which brings us to....

Bridgton Four on the Fourth

After making the annual trek up to Fryeburg, Maine, for family vacation, I headed over to Bridgton with Katie and our friends Mike and Winter for the big local race. The race draws thousands locals, vacationers, and kids from nearby summer camps and always has some solid talent up front. This would be my fourth consecutive year running it, and my only goal was to run faster than I'd run the year before (21:53).

Front and center on the race website are two guys who could use a few days in the sun.

The first mile is a gradual downhill, and between the gradient and the excitement, people go fast. As I did last year, I consciously kept my pace in check and let the crowd go by, knowing most would fade on the hills in the following miles. By the mile mark, I was in eleventh, despite going through in 5:19 - a bit faster than I wanted but still comfortable.

As expected, I began to pick off some of the overly enthusiastic starters as we climbed the interminable hill that lasts from mile 1 to mile 2.5, gaining 150 feet in that span. I kept my cadence high and tried to push the pace beyond my normal comfort level. From past years' experience, I knew that the final 1.5 miles are all downhill, giving my legs plenty of time to recover from a hard effort on the hills. By mile 2 (5:41), I'd passed all of the runners within reach and was now in 6th place. The top 5 were all VERY far ahead at this point, but I still held out hope that at least one more would fall prey to their spicy pace, allowing me to claim one of the coveted "podium" positions.

I crested the hill and realized I'd started reeling in the 5th place guy, but I'd have to use the downhills to make up the remaining 15-second gap on him. The pounding on the downhills brought back the tightness in my shins that still lingered from Ragnar. I moved onto the soft shoulder and decided that losing a couple of seconds by running on the gravel/crab grass would be better than losing minutes when my shins stopped functioning. Amazingly, the guy in front of me was doing the same thing. What luck! The up-and-down third mile split was 5:34, and I was only a few seconds behind the 5th place guy at this point.

An old man charging toward the finish.
Note the vintage 1996 Olympic jersey.

The last mile of the race is mostly downhill and finishes with a long run down Main St before turning down a side road to the line. I made my move by the guy I'd been pursuing for the last mile just after the mile-to-go mark and gave him my customary, "Keep it up." When he replied, "Go get that next guy," I knew I didn't have to worry about him passing me back. Unfortunately, I would've had to rip a sub-4 mile to catch the next guy, but I still wanted to finish strong, so I put in a solid effort down the crowd-lined road and through the line. I heard several spectators say "Wow!" as I ran by, which I assume was due to their amazement at this seemingly 60-year-old man with a gray beard running so fast despite arthritic knees and probably a recent colonoscopy. My final mile was 5:03 (remember, it was net downhill), for an overall time of 21:43, 10 seconds faster than last year and only 3 seconds off my 4-mile PR, despite the tough course.

After the race, I looped back around to watch the rest of my "team" finish, with Mike slipping under 24 minutes, Katie just missing a spot among the top-5 women, and Winter claiming an age group award (only she didn't, as Mike had accidentally registered her as a 29-year-old man instead of a 30-year-old women). I could hardly run a cool down, as my Ragnar-induced calf pain had returned with a vengeance, so I instead made everyone wait around for an hour so I could claim my 5th place prizes. These turned out to be quite generous - $25 to a local grocery store and $25 to New Balance.

Looking at the results afterward, I was pleased to be the top finisher not still in college. (1st place in the responsibilities division, as Mike likes to say.) See results here and race write-up here.

A great couple of weekends of racing. I'm hoping these set the stage for some good efforts at the remaining summer races. Expect a blog post on those by October...