Heroes in Recovery 6K

With a pretty good stretch of recent training (and with an eye toward a half marathon in October), I decided to take advantage of the fitness and jump into a local race. I'd been thinking about running one of several road 10Ks in the area but instead opted for a 6K trail race at Paramount Ranch. (Paramount Ranch is a neat little spot in the Santa Monica Mountains with great trails and an old western main street that's been used as the setting for hundreds of movies and television shows.)

Paramount Ranch - site of the Heroes in Recovery 6K.

I hoped there wouldn't be a gun fight on the trails that day.

The race - Heroes in Recovery 6K - raises money for a good cause, is a novel distance, covers challenging but fun terrain, and even has some prize money for the top four finishers. Those were reasons enough for me to give this one a shot. Now onto the race...

Mile 1:

On the starting line was a group of a dozen or so kids from the race's charity organization, New Directions for Youth. They were pretty adorable and had been training for the race for the past eight weeks. Rather than asking the kids to move to a more suitable starting spot, the race director asked the rest of us to carefully run around them after the race went off, noting that we'd have lots of time to make up for the slow start. I thought that was a nice touch and gave those kids a chance to lead us out onto the course.

The little guys lead the way. I'm looking for a way through.

I lined up in the first group behind the kids and plotted out what I thought would be the path of least resistance around the inside of the first curve. Well, those kids are smart and had the same path in mind, which put me in a tough spot as I attempted to pass them 50 yards or so into the race. I dodged my way through, even elbowing one or two of them in the head (they were the perfect height). I said I was sorry and prayed that the race photographer was far enough away not to catch that moment of abuse.

The kids in arrears, I followed the course along what would be a stream in other parts of the world but here in California is a bone dry ravine. This was, as far as I could tell, the only long stretch of straight, flat trail, and I used it to catch the early leader and accelerate into a steep up/down section. I thought I might be clear of the rest of the field on the other end of the technical descent, but I soon realized there was one guy I hadn't shaken. Not only was he hanging tight, but he was moving up to my shoulder as we came to the end of the first mile. Split - 5:46

Mile 2: 

The second mile starts part way up the biggest hill of the race. I had planned to ease my way up this hill, which I did, but the guy behind me took the opportunity to ease right by me. And ease he did; I've never seen someone look so smooth while accelerating up a steep hill. By the top of the hill, he had gapped me by 5 seconds and wasn't showing any signs of slowing down. It was already clearly a two-person race, as I couldn't see anyone within 100 yards behind me, so I stayed focused on the leader hoping his big move would take its toll later in the race. From the top of hill, the course drops down pretty quickly and then goes through a series of short ups and downs, making it difficult to settle into a steady pace. I kept waiting for his lead to stop growing, but if it was going to happen it wouldn't be during this mile. Split - 5:46

Mile 3:

More ups and downs in mile 3, and I started losing sight of the leader. I loved the challenge of the course, though it was strange to never feel like I could get into a rhythm. Every time I would have a straight stretch of trail to stride across, I'd encounter a dip, step, or sharp turn that would throw things off. To add to the fun, the second half of the course used some of the same trails as the first half, except in the opposite direction, which meant dodging a slew of runners at peace in their own world coming up the single track in front of me. It was a welcome distraction/series of obstacles, and before I knew it I was heading back down the steep hill where I'd been passed by the leader back when this was still a two-man race. Split - 5:49

Mile 4: 

I caught the occasional glimpse of the leader when the trail afforded a scenic vista here and there in the final mile. He was quite far ahead, and I was running for what little pride I had left. My legs were finally starting to feel a little peppier, and I was able to increase the pace to something respectable as I inched toward the finish. I made the final turn with about 200 meters to go and heard the announcer greet the winner as he crossed the line. All I could think about is how the spectators (all 15 of them) must be wondering where the second place finisher is. After an eternity, they wondered no more. I was done. Split - 4:30 (5:24 pace).

Total time: 21:50 (results here)

Crossing the line in 2nd.

Post-race: 

I congratulated the winner (a nice, modest, young guy), and we chatted about the challenging course and surprising temperature increase. We were soon asked by a few kids from the New Directions for Youth to pose for pictures and meet with them. Actually, they asked the winner to do that, but they reluctantly pulled me in on account of my hurt feelings. They treated us like celebrities, which was pretty cool.

Speaking of feelings, I was feeling pretty bummed about getting destroyed by the winner. Then, I heard his name called at the award ceremony. It was very familiar, but why? I turned to my trusty phone, typed it in, and found this. This dude had just finished 3rd in the NCAA DI XC championships less than a year ago. Hmm, maybe I should recalibrate my performance. Turns out, he either took it easy on me or has been taking it easy on himself since graduating. Either way, there was no way I was going to touch him in any race of any distance, so 2nd place suddenly seemed rather fitting.

4th, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place finishers. The identity of the guy on my right is just dawning on me.

Other observations:

• The temperature was 49 degrees when I arrived at 7:30, which is just about as cold as it's been since I moved out here last year. By the time I finished my long cool down, it was 102! Now that's a temperature swing.
• My quads felt heavy throughout the race, likely from the previous day's bike ride. It's a good reminder to stay away from that dreaded two-wheeled beast as more important races approach.
• I need to start defaulting to fist bumping others after races out here. There are few things as awkward as sticking out my hand for a shake only to be greeted by an unrelenting fist on the other end. Everyone here does the fist thing but me. It's time to adapt.
• The top female in the race was 9 years old! Apparently, she's been at this for a while.
• This girl sang the national anthem. So Hollywood.
• There's nothing that bothers me more than someone crossing the finish line and immediately making excuses for their performance. At this race, I congratulated one guy on his finish, and he launched into something about bringing the wrong shoes to the race. Did it add 10 minutes to your time, buddy? Another guy, without any prompting, announced that this race was too short, as he just ran a 50K a few weeks ago. Good for you, but it's not like the length of this race was a surprise. For the five of you who read this blog, please hold your tongue if you're thinking of self-handicapping before or after a race. Do as I do: save your excuses for your blog!