Coming off a series of injuries in 2017, I'd been carefully ramping up my running since mid-December. This has meant mostly slow, short runs, supplemented by indoor cycling and lifting. Given this, I'd been wavering about running in the South County Fourth Season trail series and was relieved when I'd discovered I'd be in California for the series' first race -- Resolution Beach 5K -- as it meant I wouldn't be tempted to jump in.
While on my Cali trip, I checked the Rhode Island weather incessantly, hoping to see negative temperatures so I could relish the respite I was getting out there, where it was 70 degrees and sunny. Instead, I saw, incredibly, that it would be over 50 degrees and rainy. Not only that, but the Resolution race would be moved back a day because of the rain and flooding. I'd now be back in time for the race, leaving me with a dilemma. Well, there was no dilemma, actually. I couldn't resist; it had been three years since I last did these races, and I missed them too much. I was in!
Fast-forward to Sunday morning, I drove over to the beach on a day reminiscent of the last time I'd done this race in 2015, though maybe a little less cold (20 degrees), a little less windy, and a lot icier. The massive amount snowmelt and rain had frozen overnight and blanketed the trails in several places. During the group warm-up, I tried to figure out the ideal path across the various ice obstacles, but ideal would be a dream. It was more a matter of picking the least treacherous option. From one particular previous run-in I'd had with ice, I'd learned the hard way how unforgiving it is and how rapidly it will let you know that.
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| My face met ice once before and lost. Seven years and two titanium plates later, it hasn't forgotten! |
On the hastily-drawn starting line, runners lined up facing in opposite directions. Well, it was more like everyone except the Hammetts faced the correct direction, while Jonny and Greg prepared to head off on the race's former route. They quickly (though not a quickly as you might imagine) corrected themselves, as we got the final race directions. I also used this time to remind myself of my race goals:
- Don't get injured
- Be comfortable
- Enjoy it
- Let the fast guys go
The last one, I knew, would be the hardest to achieve, as I have trouble controlling those competitive juices once the race starts. But I'm older and therefore supposedly wiser than I once was, so when the race started, I put my head down, ignored the others, and eased into the race.
That is until I saw I was taking a completely different line along the beach than anyone ahead of me. There were three water hazards along this opening stretch -- transient streams that had created shallow gullies where runoff pipes emptied onto the sand -- and they varied unpredictably in width along their respective routes. I couldn't remember from the warm-up the ideal crossing points, so I went into lemming mode and swerved back behind the lead group, figuring that at least this way we'd all face the same enemy.
Fortunately, there was little trouble steeple-chasing my way over the water. As we neared the end of the beach, I counted eight people ahead of me. I passed two of them and fell into position behind Jonny as we climbed into the dunes. At this point, I made some comment like, "Don't worry, it's just me," to which Jonny replied, "Give yourself some more credit!" What a nice guy.
Looking up ahead, I saw the expected lead pack (Lonergan, Greg, Jackman, and Brightman) plus one random guy. The guys I knew up there wouldn't be coming back, but I decided to keep an eye on Random Guy, as I don't like to lose to strangers at these local races.
Jonny and I gradually gained on RG as we traversed the newly cut section and cautiously navigated the icy spots. I had passed Jonny at some point along the way but don't recall when. This isn't normal and must be another sign of age/wisdom.
I got a small amount of separation on Jonny on our return trip of the two-way portion of the course and crept to within a few seconds of RG. We came to a part of the course that was covered with a sheet of ice spanning the entire trail and extending 20 feet or so. I recalled from the warm-up that the only safe passage is along the right side, where tufts of grass in the ice allowed for some semblance of traction, whereas the left side had trouble written all over it. I was surprised to see RG choose trouble, and boy did he get it. He went down in a flash, landing hard on his hip. I slowed to ask if he was ok, but he'd already gotten to his feet and started running again. I'd gotten ahead of him during his spill and felt guilty for it, but he seemed fine, and the race must go on.
Approaching the stone ruins, I had a nice vista out to the beach, where I saw Lonergan already on the sand, with Jackman and Greg battling for second through the ruins. They were all very far ahead of me.
I led our little train of three through the ruins, clambered down the rock wall on the other side, and leapt over the largest of the three rivulets, apparently looking much more majestic than I felt. (Thanks, as always, to the magic of Scott Mason's camera.)
The finish on the beach is mentally challenging, as the finish line can be seen for the entire half-mile or so remaining in the race. Up ahead, I could see Brightman, far out of reach, but behind I could still hear the breathing and footfalls of my pursuers. I gradually accelerated, gaining some space, and feeling thankful that the race would be far less than the advertised 5K.
I crossed in 5th in a time of 15:26 (despite what the results say). I was very pleased to meet all of my goals yet still feel like I raced. In particular, it was satisfying to see that I was able to gradually increase the pace throughout the race, with average mile paces of 6:27, 6:07, and 5:36 (for the last 0.5).
That is until I saw I was taking a completely different line along the beach than anyone ahead of me. There were three water hazards along this opening stretch -- transient streams that had created shallow gullies where runoff pipes emptied onto the sand -- and they varied unpredictably in width along their respective routes. I couldn't remember from the warm-up the ideal crossing points, so I went into lemming mode and swerved back behind the lead group, figuring that at least this way we'd all face the same enemy.
Fortunately, there was little trouble steeple-chasing my way over the water. As we neared the end of the beach, I counted eight people ahead of me. I passed two of them and fell into position behind Jonny as we climbed into the dunes. At this point, I made some comment like, "Don't worry, it's just me," to which Jonny replied, "Give yourself some more credit!" What a nice guy.
Looking up ahead, I saw the expected lead pack (Lonergan, Greg, Jackman, and Brightman) plus one random guy. The guys I knew up there wouldn't be coming back, but I decided to keep an eye on Random Guy, as I don't like to lose to strangers at these local races.
Jonny and I gradually gained on RG as we traversed the newly cut section and cautiously navigated the icy spots. I had passed Jonny at some point along the way but don't recall when. This isn't normal and must be another sign of age/wisdom.
I got a small amount of separation on Jonny on our return trip of the two-way portion of the course and crept to within a few seconds of RG. We came to a part of the course that was covered with a sheet of ice spanning the entire trail and extending 20 feet or so. I recalled from the warm-up that the only safe passage is along the right side, where tufts of grass in the ice allowed for some semblance of traction, whereas the left side had trouble written all over it. I was surprised to see RG choose trouble, and boy did he get it. He went down in a flash, landing hard on his hip. I slowed to ask if he was ok, but he'd already gotten to his feet and started running again. I'd gotten ahead of him during his spill and felt guilty for it, but he seemed fine, and the race must go on.
Approaching the stone ruins, I had a nice vista out to the beach, where I saw Lonergan already on the sand, with Jackman and Greg battling for second through the ruins. They were all very far ahead of me.
I led our little train of three through the ruins, clambered down the rock wall on the other side, and leapt over the largest of the three rivulets, apparently looking much more majestic than I felt. (Thanks, as always, to the magic of Scott Mason's camera.)
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| Doing my best impression of the WTAC gull. RG and Jonny give chase. |
I crossed in 5th in a time of 15:26 (despite what the results say). I was very pleased to meet all of my goals yet still feel like I raced. In particular, it was satisfying to see that I was able to gradually increase the pace throughout the race, with average mile paces of 6:27, 6:07, and 5:36 (for the last 0.5).
I was no worse for wear afterwards and already excited about the next race in the series. I'd love to continue to close the gap on those ahead of me as the series (and, hopefully, my fitness) progresses. And now it's time to get to work...
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| Group cool down. Another great shot from Scott. |
