The first weekend of November brought me back to Franklin Park for another big XC race, this time the USATF New England championship. After going 20 years between Franklin Park appearances prior to the national meet in October, I'd only had to wait three weeks for this return trip. This meant I'd been able to visualize (and agonize over) every inch of the course in my mind during the weeks leading up to the race. I had a couple of concerns heading in: (1) How would I fare in the 8K after doing so well in the 5K, given my typical performance decline in the longer races?; and (2) Now that all sorts of expectations had been set, would I be able to avoid a massive disappointment this time around?
However, I had a few things going for me this time, too. First, as mentioned, I was intimately familiar with the course now and could plan a much more specific race strategy this time. Second, I now had a bunch of teammates I'd met the last time who would bring some comfort in their familiarity. And third, on the topic of familiarity, my buddy Dusty would be in the race -- our first time racing together (outside of the Williams alumni races) since I was in college. This last point was more than a minor bit of trivia; there was something so comforting knowing I'd have him around. As a leader on our team, he had played a huge part in helping me adjust to college 20+ years ago, always looking out for me and serving as one of the most important role models I've had. I wasn't sure whether we'd be able to run together in the race itself, but having him around for the warmup and pre-race chatter would almost certainly calm my nerves and fire me up for a big race.
The starts of these old guy XC races have shown me that, no matter the age, we humans just can't help ourselves; when a gun goes off, we run like we've never done this before. And, at Franklin Park, it's not like there's some small trail we're trying to gain position heading into; we have literally miles of trail ahead wide enough for a truck to drive on. I'm guilty of it too, but despite my overaggressive opening pace, I was still behind a dozen or so people when we rounded the first turn to make our opening loop of the big field. There were plenty of the same characters around me I'd raced against in the national meet, and this was playing out in much the same way, albeit with a slight delay to each move, due to the longer distance of this race.
 |
| Off the line - you can see my red hat somewhere in the middle of the crowd. |
I felt very relaxed through mile 1 (5:13), though it was still faster than I had planned. Speaking of plans, here's what I was thinking: Go out in 5:20, then run roughly 10 seconds slower per mile than I had in the 5K (5:26 and 5:19 for miles 2 and 3), and then gradually ratchet up the pace for the final two miles, if possible. Now that I was a bit ahead of pace, I kept reminding myself to be patient. As Tom Petty said in his great song about his days as a cross country runner, "The waiting is the hardest part." But wait I did. I held back going up Bear Cage hill, and only passed people when they came back to me, rather than purposefully trying to catch them. Mile 2 was right on target at 5:26.
I caught my teammate TJ around this point and reminded him that we had a long way to go. This was also a bit of reminder to myself not to do anything stupid. Up ahead, there was a BAA guy with an impressive pedigree (recent 2:17 marathoner and 2:22 in this year's Boston Marathon) who was absent from the national meet but had jumped out to big lead early in this one. He was followed closely by his teammate, a guy I'd beaten at the previous meet but appeared to be feeling strong today, making a giant move in the second mile to bridge the gap. A bit behind them was a mystery guy in a white jersey, and then the group that I was part of. Just behind me was Dusty, whom I'd heard our friends cheering for shortly after they'd finished doing the same for me. I tried to wave him up to me, and he later told me he was tempted to make a move so we could run together but thought better of it. This is the kind of discipline that made me look up to the guy as an 18-year-old!
The start of the third mile coincides with the long, gradual ascent of the Wilderness loop. It was here that I'd done my damage at the last meet, but it was still too early to attempt the same thing this time. I focused on fast turnover and a steady effort, which allowed me to pass the white jersey guy and eventually the second BAA guy who was paying a bit of a price for his big move. Now in second place, still well behind the leader, I wanted to put to rest any thoughts my competitors might have of reeling me back in and pushed onward. Mile 3 was also 5:26, a bit slower than planned. While this was disappointing, I still felt almost too good. I was tempted to go faster but was afraid I didn't have the endurance to make it last, so I stayed put for another mile. I crossed the 5K somewhere in the 16:50s, right around 30 seconds slower than last time, which was just where I'd hoped to be.
 |
| I think this was taken with about a mile to go. Starting to wonder if there's maybe, just maybe, a small chance of catching the leader. |
After the 5K mark, we repeat the Wilderness, and this time I tried to put in a bit more effort, if not a bit more speed. I took peeks behind me whenever the course gave me a chance, and there wasn't anyone nearby. Meanwhile, up ahead, the leader wasn't gaining any more ground on me, and might have even come back a little. Given his credentials, he was likely doing just enough to win the race, but I still wanted to make him work. I hit the 4-mile mark (5:22) and passed a runner we were lapping who shouted to the leader that he had a 10 second lead. Hey! He doesn't need any more help! I increased the pace as we closed in on Bear Cage Hill again, this time pushing up and over, but still not gaining on the guy. The downhill on the other side was a controlled fall and not a chance to make a move, but as soon as I hit the flats, I was in a near sprint. It was pointless, though, as his lead was too big, and he was still far too strong. I was tempted to cruise it in, but a huge contingent of Conn College runners, giddy at the chance to see old guys attempt to kick (it's possible they were hoping to induce a devastating hamstring injury) shouted so much encouragement for me to sprint that I couldn't resist. I turned the pace knob up to 11, with nothing at all to gain from it, other than a smaller margin of defeat. This, however, gave me quite the runner's high, and it gave me a ton of confidence that I still have some speed left at the end of these races. My final mile was at 5:09 pace, even with Bear Cage Hill, so I probably left a bit too much in the tank.
 |
| Without any tape to break through this time, I was free to stop my watch. |
The overall time of 26:36 [results] was, somehow, my second-fastest of the four times I've run the Franklin Park 8K, just ten seconds or so behind my sophomore year time. This was both satisfying and depressing at the same time, as it reminded me of how unfulfilling my collegiate XC career was. More exciting was seeing TJ take third and then Dusty nab 5th with an awesome race of his own. (I'm relishing this brief period of time when I am capable of beating him -- something I never would have dreamed of in college -- as I'm sure it will be short-lived.) He and I cooled down and then spent time with some of our college friends who'd come to watch the race. It was a wonderful day, as much for connecting with old friends as it was for the racing.
 |
| HFC Masters team. We placed second, yet again, to the BAA. |
