Belleville Pond 10K

For the second week in a row, my race participation was a last-minute decision.  Last week, it was a balky ankle.  This week, I had a litany of excuses at my disposal.  On Friday night, I nearly cut off my son's finger while trimming his hair, throwing all of our weekend plans into upheaval as we spent Friday night and part of Saturday in the emergency room.  Luckily, kids forget quickly, and my wife is a very forgiving person.  Then, my lingering cold came back with a vengeance on Saturday.  I felt awful on Sunday morning but really hate to back out of a race, especially one I knew would be an epic experience.  So, I threw down some Day-Quil, chugged a cup of tea, and headed out to Ryan Park.

A shoe or a weapon?

My biggest concern going into the race, however, was not my cold or barber skills, it was my footwear.  After slipping around the Old Mountain Field course in my wife's YakTrax "Walkers," I knew I needed something different this time.  So, earlier in the week, I ordered a pair of the Kahtoola Microspikes that Bob Jackman had worn to victory at OMF (obviously, it must have been the equipment, and not his superior fitness, that allowed him to beat me that day).  Well, Amazon Prime FAILED to meet their two-day delivery promise, and so I was back to the YakTrax as my only option.  Then, I had an epiphany. Well, maybe it was more of a memory of something I had seen, like, a few days ago than an epiphany.  When digging out my old track racing shoes prior to last month's 800 meter race, I remembered seeing a bag of ridiculously long spikes.  Sure enough, after rummaging around the basement, I found these things and put them in my old XC shoes.  I'm not even sure how to describe how they looked.  It was like having bayonets attached to my feet.  Why did I even own these?  I ran a lap around the house in them, and they seemed pretty good, so I figured I'd give it a go.  They had to be better than the YakTrax.

The Race

The ninja falls into line behind Jonny.

My only strategy for the race was to get right behind whoever would take the lead.  My best guess was that it would be Jonny, since this is his home course, and he's one of the few people ballsy enough to break trail for the rest of us.  Sure enough, Jonny jetted out to the lead, and I fell into step behind him.  The footing was awful almost immediately, and I discovered the one downside of my shoe choice -- what I gained in traction, I lost in surface area.  I was wearing whatever the opposite of a snowshoe is.  In the soft snow, I sunk right through, and my foot twisted off anything hard or uneven.  I made a mental note to be careful to place my foot directly within existing footprints wherever possible.

I was pleasantly surprised that no one tried to pass us as we cruised through mile 1 on the rail bed.  I felt way better than I had expected and was content to sit behind Jonny as long as possible.  My hope was to wait until the halfway mark to make a move, thus turning the 10K into a 5K, which I felt would give me more of an advantage over the guys who thrive at the longer distances.

There were two things during this period of the race that stand out in my memory.  One was when we came upon a small fallen tree in the trail.  There was plenty of room to go around it, but Jonny launched himself over it like an Olympic hurdler.  I sidestepped it at the last second, not realizing that my late move had screened the branch from view of whoever was behind me.  Turns out, it was TNT nemesis Bob Jackman, who got a wicked lashing across the shins as he ran straight through it.

The second was the incredibly cool image of a single-file line of runners following Jonny around turns and up and down the hills.  As we ascended the steep hill by the power lines, I joked that we all owed Jonny a debt of gratitude, and Bob promised to buy him a beer.  These were fun and innocent times, but a race still awaited us in the coming miles, it was just a matter of who would make the first move.

Should I tear Jonny's heart out?  Never!

A little after mile 2, as we churned through the rough trail along Route 4, stuff started happening.  First, Jonny very matter-of-factly declared, "I am done."  The Mortal Kombat "Finish Him" screen flashed through my head, but I didn't want to break Jonny, I wanted to give him a break. He had been doing yeoman's work to this point, and I was feeling terrible that I hadn't traded off with him earlier.  I was about to make a move, when I heard some commotion behind me. Apparently, Bob was getting hot, and his clothes were coming off.  It seemed like a good time to mix things up a bit, so I told Jonny I'd take over for a little while and promptly accelerated as I went by.  The footing was terrible in this section, and I quickly realized how much I'd been relying on Jonny's trailblazing.  I was trying my best to land within the existing footprints, but these were too close together, and I felt like it was quick-stepping through the trail.

Which Jackman was running shirtless behind me??

We finally popped out into a meadow, and I had a chance to look behind me and see who'd covered my move.  As expected, Bob was right behind me, but who was that behind him?  It was...Jeff???  I was thrilled and terrified at the same time.  Was he about to take me down? Fortunately, I started getting excellent traction on this hard-packed section, so I was able to up the pace a bit (to 9-minute miles maybe?).  As we were about to re-enter the woods, I stepped in a hole and twisted my stupid ankle.  There was no time to worry about it, though, so I dug down and tried to gap Bob on this next technical section.  I really didn't want to battle with him during the last mile, so I decided to push myself now and relax later.

By the time we popped out onto the rail bed, I started to feel confident that I was going to make the lead last.  I was hoping to hammer this section to put the race away, but the footing was far worse than it was on the way out.  I also realized that, having only run the course once before, I didn't know where the turn off the trail was.  Did I already pass it?  Was Bob going to have to redirect me again, as he did the Christmas 10K?  Would he be so nice this time?  At long last, the turn appeared.  I took a peek behind me as I made the turn and didn't see Bob.  Thank God, because my resilience was as close to 0 as it has ever been in a race. I would have let Colburn Graves pass me if he wanted to.

I kept the pressure on through this final technical section, nearly crashing into Scott Mason over the bridge.  Mercifully, the baseball field came into view.  I trudged around it, so thankful that I didn't have to try to mount a kick through this ridiculously tough section.  I stumbled across the finish line, just cracking the magical 48-minute barrier.

I enjoyed seeing Jeff finish strong to secure his incredible third-place finish, then Nate also crushing it for fourth, Justin and Jonny coming in together (almost), and Seth shortly after.  Great work all around.  Once more, thanks to Jonny for doing literally all the work for us for the first 1/3 of the race. You're a tough and selfless guy, Jonny!

Post-race
After pathetically complaining about my historical lack of race prizes in my last post, I was almost in shock as I got to choose from an array of cool stuff Mike Galoob had assembled.  I came away with an awesome watch and a BBC beer -- thanks, Mike! While I'm writing my weekly Galoob tribute, let me give this guy one final shout-out for his crazy fast mile at the NB Boston Indoor Games.  Oh, and the man who placed second was just a former Olympian (and a New York State high school legend whose name I've known since I first started running).  Incidentally, there was also a Quadzilla sighting in Boston that day.

Physically, I'm a mess right now.  The spikes did a number on my calves, which are still sore to the touch three days later.  My cold mutated into some nasty infection, and my voice, well I'm not sure how to describe it. Sandpaper on a cheese grater on a blackboard maybe? Regardless, I have no regrets.  It was a fun race to be part of, and obviously I'm thrilled to get a rare win and for another great WTAC team performance.

Super 5K

Despite this being my first time running the Super 5K in Narragansett, I was well prepared for the race thanks to some excellent and detailed race write-ups from past years by my WTAC teammates.  What I gleaned from their blogs was that it is an out-and-back course, with wind likely, featuring a competitive field and a debatably large hill in the middle of the race on which you may or may not benefit from running hard.  OK, the info was mostly helpful and was certainly appreciated. You guys can rest assured that your blog posts do in fact make this world a better place.

What I didn’t anticipate was an ankle mishap on Thursday. If there's one thing you should know about me, it's this: I sprain my right ankle A LOT.  This was the 18^th recorded incident since 1997, and I’m sure it will continue at about that rate for the rest of my running life.  There’s not much more I can do to prevent it from happening.  I wear an ankle brace on every trail run, and I do balancing exercises EVERY DAY, for crying out loud.  Yet, I still find new and creative ways to do it.  This time, it happened during a rest interval on a 6x300 @ 800 track workout at the Exeter-West Greenwich HS track.  I’d just finished the 4^th 300 and was jogging in lane 1 on the first curve of the track.  It was mostly dark at this point, and the moon was having a great time on the other side of the earth, so it was getting awfully tough to see.  On top of this, my legs were getting pretty tired, so I was weaving a little bit as I made my way around the turn.  I realized I was running on the inside of the track and started making my way back to lane 1 when I spotted a basketball-sized clump of snow in my way.  Instead of jumping over it, I decided to step on it because snow is fun.  An instant later I was dropping an atomic f-bomb as my foot slid right off the side of the ice chunk and landed on its side.  My first thought was how will this look on Strava?  My second was that I had to finish the workout.  I promptly counseled myself into walking for at least a lap and then re-evaluating.  At the end of the lap, I tried to run, but it was no good.  I was limping, and my foot was killing me.  I was hit by a wave of frustration.  What do you do when you’re frustrated?  You throw stuff.   I picked up a nearby hurdle and put 137 pounds of fury into launching it as far as I could.  My god, hurdles are heavy.  It literally went nowhere.  I mean, I could still touch it from where I was standing. RAGE!  Maybe I should have gone here instead.

The answer to my question: this is how it looks on Strava.

I drove home left-footed (I’ve had lots of practice), iced immediately, kept it raised, and stayed off it for two days.  The Friday injury reports had me listed as doubtful for the race, and fantasy running players were scrambling to the waiver wire to find a replacement (my god, I wish that was a true statement).  I was upgraded to questionable on Saturday after strolling around the yard to test it out, and by the time Sunday morning rolled around, the pain and swelling were miraculously gone, and I was removed from the injury report. 

Race Day (finally)
As a warm up, Nate and I took a jaunt out along the Ocean Rd. stretch of the course.  We got back much closer to race time than I’d realized, and I had to scramble to throw on my racing shoes (20-year-old Asics flats).  I sprinted down the restaurant stairs and threw in 30 seconds at 5K pace just to remind myself what it feels like, since most of my recent running has been at 800 pace.  I arrived at the starting line to find everyone else already there, and sidled up next to Tom, who was looking fit and ready to roll.  As Tom described in his post, I asked him what pace he was looking to run, he said 5:20, and I said that sounded great to me.  In truth, until that point, I hadn’t even thought about my goal for the race, but 5:20 seemed about right, and it would be nice to have the company of a teammate out there. 

[Note: That was the first time in my life I had ever asked someone what pace they were planning to run.  I don't even know why I did it.  Ever since Muddy’s recent Level Renner article, I get all flustered when talking to other runners before the race and start blurting out whatever comes to mind.  Actually, that describes most of my interactions, but now it's worse than usual.]

Gray-shirt man poised to make his early move.  Photo by Jana Walker.

In his post, Tom nicely described the first half of both our races, so I’ll just note a few observations:

• Not since high school cross-country have I seen so many people go out too fast in the first half-mile of a race.  Some looked like they might be legit, and others definitely did not (ahem, gray-shirt man).  It turned out that only three of the eight or so to form the early lead pack were for real. 
• It was impressive to watch Mike and Ryan fall in behind The Colonel.  The speed at which they gapped us was ridiculous.  They had 15 or so seconds on the “chase pack” by the time we turned off Ocean Rd.
• It’s always disconcerting to be leading a pack of runners, especially when you have no idea who most of them are.  When will they pass?  Am I going too slow?  Too fast?  

We hit mile 1 in just over 5:20, and by the turnaround, it was just me, Tom, and a tall dude.  At some point shortly thereafter, the tall guy asked us, “Do you know where to go at the finish?”  Tom gave a courtesy grunt, and I said, “I don’t know either” (which was the truth).  What I wanted to know was why he had asked that.  Did he plan to surge ahead and knew he would be without our navigational services the rest of the way?  Or, was he hurting and wanting to make sure he could hold off the next group behind us if he lost contact?  I didn't want to wait to find out, so I gradually pressed the pedal to the floor.  You might call this move the anti-Jackman, since it was as imperceptible as his are mind-blowingly abrupt.  Anyway, I guess it was the latter of my two guesses, because that was the last time I heard from him.  Tom gamely clung to me, and I could hear his footsteps all the way down the hill past mile 2 (5:28) to Ocean Rd. 

Maybe it's a weird angle, but do I look incredibly
uncoordinated to anyone else?  Photo by Jana Walker.

I tried to keep the pressure on along the long final straight.  I could no longer hear Tom, and Wooley was too far ahead, so I just focused on running smooth and fast through the end.  I wound up running 5:07 pace over the final 1.1 (though Strava generously gave me credit for sub-5 thanks to some signal loss), finishing in 16:33.  It was my second-fastest road 5K ever, but I don’t put a lot of stock in that, since I never ran one when I was at my fittest. 

After the race, I got in a nice, long cool down with Nate, Mike, and Muddy, arriving back just in time to see WTAC dominate the post-race awards. 

Some final thoughts:

The good

• I was atypically intelligent about recovering from the ankle sprain.  I have never felt that good three days post-injury. 
• I ran reasonably well despite focusing on 800-meter training over the past two months.
• Running more than half the race with Tom was a treat.  Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to beat him, and apparently he felt the same about me (which just proves we’re all competitive jerks on the inside no matter our outward behaviors), but it’s a great feeling running stride-for-stride in solidarity with a teammate. 
• WTAC is absolutely crushing these local races.  We had 7 guys break 18 minutes.  That is crazy.  And if Jeff wasn’t in the midst of some major high-mileage weeks, he would have been the eighth. 

The bad

• I feel like an idiot for reacting so strongly to the ankle injury on Strava and then showing up to the race like nothing was ever wrong.  Thanks to everyone who checked up on me, and I’ll try not to be so dramatic the next time.
• I failed to hit Muddy’s estimated time.  You’re welcome, anyone who took the over bet.
• Finishing out of the money.  As the 4^th place finisher, I was the first one not to get a “cash” prize.  This is fairly typical.  If one person gets a prize, I usually place second.  Three people, I’m fourth.  Forty-five people, I’m forty-sixth.  The only time last year I earned a prize – when I won the Run for the Pumpkins 5K – I drove out of the parking lot with the gift certificate on my roof, never to see it again.  Some things just aren't meant to be.

Next up: Belleville Pond 10K on 2/9 

USATF-NE Masters Championships

This past weekend was the USATF regional Masters meet, one of the few places where I might be considered to have a full and lustrous head of hair.  There's something about track races that gets my nerves all aflutter, and this one was no exception.  I rode up to the meet with Jonny and Mike, and I found that the company helped keep the adrenaline at bay.  It also gave me a chance to hear Mike recount, word-by-word, the new Jack Daniels book.  Impressive reading comprehension, I must say.

Upon walking into the facility, I almost laughed out loud when I realized just how low-key this meet would be.  Imagine a big room full of grandparents running and jumping and throwing.  That is literally what this was.  I was fully at ease from that point on and was able to enjoy the day. [One particularly old-timey sighting was of a guy high jumping using the scissor-kick technique, which was largely abandoned after the Fosbury Flop came along...in 1965.]

The Mile 
First up was the mile, in which Mike, Jonny, and Greg would be throwing it down against a menagerie of other runners.  You can read Mike's and Jonny's take on the race and then watch the two videos below for the (almost) full action.  [I got a call from a telemarketer mid-way through the race, which apparently stops the phone from recording video.  So much for the Do-Not-Call list.]  Mike dominated the second half of the race en route to a 4:28, while Greg had a rare off day yet still ran a 4:46.  Jonny nearly came through with his first sub-5 but left himself a little too much time to make up on his furious sprint over the final 200.  It will come, Jonny.  It will.

 Men's Mile - Part I

Men's Mile - Part II

The 800

Pre-race

The last time I wore these spikes - New England meet at UCONN, 2000.

There was a convenient break in the meet that allowed me to run my warm-up indoors rather than braving the cold temperatures and graffitied streets outside (hey, I live a very sheltered life).  This was especially welcome given that my hamstring has been bothering me for a couple of weeks, and I'm sure all of the cold weather running hasn't helped.  My legs were feeling great until I did my standard active stretching routine of leg swings and lunges.  During my very last lunge, I tweaked something in my groin.  Not bad at all, but enough to worry me.  I was able to do a bunch of strides without pain, so I put it out of my mind.  I threw on my 14-year-old spikes and stripped down to my shorts and jersey, and it was go-time.  

[Note 1: I just realized that my spikes would be in high school if they were a person.  Fortunately, they are not.]

[Note 2: I had a nearly embarrassing moment when I pulled off my warm-up pants.  Both the pants and my shorts are made of a some extremely thin, light-weight material, and when I took the pants off, it really felt like I had also taken my shorts off by accident.  I spastically pulled the pants back up, only to realize that I hadn't gaffed in the first place.  I gave a casual look around, as if I'd meant to do it, and then proceeded to get ready.  Smooth, as always.]

The Race

I lined up in position 11(!), just to the right of Mike and Greg.  I joked to the guy on my right that his spot was in the bleachers.  He didn't even give me a courtesy laugh.  

My race strategy was fairly simple - don't lead early, try to run 30-31 for the first two laps, don't lose touch with anyone, and then see what's left in the tank for the final 400.  The race went out at a decent clip, and I tried to fall in behind Mike and Greg, but there were a few interlopers in the mix, as well.  I wasn't expecting so much traffic and ended up running in lane 2 around the first turn.  I'm typically very conscious of not getting boxed in during the 800, as nothing is capable of ruining a race faster, so I thought about staying in lane 2 for the remainder of the lap.  I realized, however, that no one behind me was seeded anywhere near me, so it would be unlikely for them to come up on my shoulder.  I took a chance and went to the inside rail, where I patiently waited for things to sort themselves out ahead of me.  I hit the 200 in 31.5, a little slow, but close to target

In the second lap, things started to string out a bit.  I made a move to go by one fading front-runner and tried to maintain contact with Greg.  Mike took the lead, and I was tempted to pull myself up to him, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to hang on, so I decided to stay where I was for the rest of the lap.  Coming around turn 2 of the second lap, I was hit with this wave of nostalgia.  It had been 11 years since I last ran an indoor race, but it suddenly felt so familiar.  The smell, the dry heat, the burning lungs and legs.  It was like I had been transported back in time.  What a strange and wonderful feeling.

Mike had started to open up a gap going into the third lap, and I couldn't let him get away.  I moved around Greg and the early leader on the first turn and tried to run Mike down on the back stretch.  I finally pulled up behind him with about 250 to go.  Now, it was decision time.  

The 800 is a great distance for so many reasons, but one of the best is that every little tactical move can have a huge impact on the outcome of the race.  Here, I was faced with a critical one.  Do I sit on him for another 200 and then try to eke out a win in the last 50?  Do I wait until the back straightaway to make a move?  Or, do I make a move now and see what happens?  I chose option 3, and I tried to do it decisively and just before the first curve to catch him off-guard, hoping he would have to wait until at least the backstretch to respond.  I did everything I could put him away (or "snap the elastic," as he so eloquently put it in his write-up).  But, to his credit, Mike kept in contact.  I was running out of steam around the final turn, and his footsteps kept getting closer and closer.  It's so much worse to be the prey than to be the predator.  As I hit the final 50, there he was, primed to blow by me.  He went by surprisingly quickly, and I responded a little too late.  We ran together down the final straightaway, but I couldn't pull back even with him, no matter how hard I tried.  I gave the best lean I could at the line, but he leaned too.  Mike finished 0.08 seconds ahead, but it might as well have been 10 seconds; he was the clear winner.  

Men's 800 (turn the volume down unless you want to hear my son cry every time I run by)

The Aftermath

I had no idea what to expect coming into the meet and had guessed a seed time of 2:03.  I ended up running 2:02.66, which I was pleased with...at first.  Then I realized that I had just lost to a guy who was sick with a cold, had already run a fast mile, and until this year hadn't run an 800 since his senior year of high school (when I was just in fifth grade).  Still, it was one of the most fun races I'd ever been part of, and there's almost no one I'd rather lose to.  Besides, I'm getting used to it by now.

Anyway, I hope this puts me in a strong position to get under 2:00 later in the season, but there's still plenty of work to do.

I am quite sore right now, one day after the race.  (I hate you, DOMS.)  The worst spot, by far, is my groin, which had nothing to do with the race.  It will subside, I'm sure, but I'm screwed for Tuesday night bowling (Kingston Bowl - oh yeah!).  My breathing also suffered.  Immediately after the race, I was coughing like I had smoked 5 packs a day for 40 years.  Mike gave me one of his cough drops out of pity (creamsicle flavored?? what was that thing?), which helped immensely.  Now, I have this mechanical wheezing sound in my lungs whenever I take a breath.  I'm sure that's normal, right?

Next up, back to longer distances at the Super 5K.  I'll have to remember not to go out with a 30-second 200 this week...

The little fan saying hello.

The quest for 1:59

At the end of the week, I'll run my first 800-meter track race in five years and just my third in the past 11. The dearth of recent attempts is not due to a lack of interest on my part.  In fact, I've tried to make "comebacks" nearly every year since graduating from college but have been thwarted by injury in all but one of those attempts.  Here's the rundown:

So, needless to say, I'm proceeding with caution this year.  I suppose as long as I don't end up looking like the photo below, I'll consider the season a success.

Just imagine how good-looking I was before this.

With that said, I still have high hopes for the season.  My goal is sub-2:00.  Let's call it a quest. I'd go so far as proclaiming it a Vision Quest, but one can only listen to Lunatic Fringe so many times.

A little history

The eager little 800 runner wearing
compression socks before they
were a thing.

In seventh grade, on my first day of middle school track practice, I was given a sheet that listed all of the track and field events.  I was to circle one or two of these, and those would be my events for the rest of the season.  As a 4’11”, 79 lb. 13-year-old (those are my actual measurements, forever preserved on the back of my 1994 little league card), I was ill-suited for pretty much everything besides the distance events – the 800 and mile. I could only choose one, and the mile seemed kind of long, so I chose the 800.  Little did I know that I’d be starting a relationship that would impact my life in many, many ways. (As just one example, I chose my college in part because I thought I could be a successful 800-meter runner there.  That choice led to me and my wife meeting as members of the track team.  Thank you, 800.)

As it turned out, I wasn’t very good at the 800, breaking 2:30 but once by the time I’d finished middle school.  Still, I was hooked, and when I started high school track (now 5’3” and 98 lbs!), I informed my coach that I was an “800 runner.”  Fortunately, he didn't check the veracity of this claim with my middle school coach and threw me right into the mix.  I struggled for a bit but had a mini breakthrough by the end of the season, running 2:11 in the last meet of the season.  [Historical Anecdote: At that meet, I told a friend that if I broke 2:11 I would ask out a particular girl in our class.  I ran 2:11.0 and was never more relieved in my life.  Had the girl known about it, I’m sure she would have been, too.]

I won’t bore you with every boring detail of my running history, so here's a quick summary.  In 10^th grade, I finally started growing into the chiseled physique I have today, and my times began to drop.  I ran 2:03 that year, then 1:59 in 11^th grade, and 1:56 as a senior.

College was full of ups and downs.  Actually, mostly downs, due to a series of injuries.  I ran 1:54 as a freshman and then didn’t run faster than that until senior year, when I had one final breakthrough, running 1:52. 

In case you were on the fence about my nerdiness, this is plot of my time from every 800 I ever ran,
with yearly averages marked by the red line.  

So, back to my goal for 2014

Between 1998 and 2003, I broke 2:00 in the 800 54 times.  In the 11 years since then, I have broken 2:00 ZERO times.  This drought has to end before it is too late.  The 800 is a fast-twitch muscle-dominated race, and, unless you’re Galoob or Gazelle, you lose fast-twitch muscle fibers as you age.  As I mentioned above, it’s not that I haven’t tried.  The one year I managed to race the 800 (2009), ended with a 2:00.22 at the Bay State Games.  Agonizingly close, but not good enough. 

This year, I’m embarking on yet another attempt at the barrier.  The plan is to run a minimum of three indoor meets - USATF-NE Masters this weekend, USATF-NE Open in February, and USATF Masters Nationals in March.  As for training, I’ve accumulated quite a library of workouts (see tab at top of blog), so it’s just a matter of choosing the right ones to prepare for these races. I’ll occasionally post in here a summary of my workouts and how I’m feeling (you care about my feelings, right?), and hopefully it will be a training methodology that works and that I can follow in future years when I try to do this again.  After all, I’m committed to this relationship with the 800, and we will only break up when my legs can no longer make it the whole half-mile around the track.  Stay tuned...

Old Mountain Field 5K

I'm not sure what looks more ridiculous,
wearing a balaclava or a baclava.

After last year's OMF race and ensuing long-term injury, my goal this year was simply to make it through in one piece. I am happy to report, in that regard, the race was a success!  I wore my trusty ankle brace just to be sure, but the ankle was the furthest thing from my mind this time around.  Thanks to the 6+ inches of snow we received on Thursday night and the seriously cold temperatures (-5 F when I went to a dentist appointment this morning and 15 F at race time), I was more focused on staying warm without overheating and choosing the right footwear for the conditions.  I went with a balaclava (not a baclava, though that would have been a delicious choice), a hat, about a hundred shirts, a single pair of tights, and long Nike dri-fit socks (the kind that have become cool to wear if you're a hip teenager, and much less cool if you're me).  On my feet, I had my regular running shoes with a pair of "walker" Yaktrax that I had gotten my wife as a present about three years ago yet were still in their original packaging.  You're welcome, honey.  I was a little concerned with the "walker" designation but it had to be better than plain old sneakers, so I went with it.  OK, now that you're caught up on my wardrobe, let's get to the race.

At last year's race, I placed fourth, well behind the top 3, and just barely outkicking Jonny (after obnoxiously sitting on him the entire race - here's his description of that).  I figured I was in better shape this year, but with these conditions, anything was possible.  I could see myself finishing anywhere in the top 10 depending on my foot slippage relative to everyone else's.

Getting off the line.  I'm the silly gent 2nd from left.
Photo by Jana Walker.

I lined up at the front along with the rest of the crew and, as the race went off, found myself in the lead next to Jonny as we approached the baseball fence.  I remember making some stupid comment about how we should just take it nice and easy and not let anyone pass us, but this thought was quickly erased as we rounded the fence corner and were suddenly faced with a drop-off into a snow drift of unknown depth.  Jonny literally disappeared from sight on my right, and I managed to leap just in time over the drift, landing safely at the bottom of the hill.  I spent the next 30 seconds laughing hysterically.  That image of Jonny vanishing into the snow is one I won't forget for a long time.

I regained composure as we crossed a bridge and headed into the woods.  I wasn't really planning to be in first place here, but it's not a bad spot to be on a narrow trail with few opportunities to pass.  I knew there were people right on my heels, but I thought I'd do my own thing and let them worry about how to get around me.  Figuring out how to run in these conditions was a challenge.  I upped my turnover, guessing that smaller strides would mean I was less reliant on the stickiness of any single step.  I also alternated between running on Galoob's snowshoe tracks and running in the fresh snow on the side but couldn't determine which was better.  I slipped less in the fresh snow but it took more energy to plow through it.  I noticed that my quads were burning as they would if I were running up a huge hill, yet the ground was perfectly flat.  I started worrying a bit about what fate awaited me in the miles ahead.

At around the mile mark, I finally had a chance to see what was going on behind me.  I noticed two white jerseys right on my tail, and then a decent gap to the chase pack.  I assumed (correctly) that one of the jerseys belonged to Ryan Woolley, who is quite a bit faster than I am and must have been biding his time before making a move.  I had no idea who the other one was.  I thought perhaps it was Jonny, a master of these technical trails.  I knew Bob Jackman must also be somewhere close by, but I forgot what he was wearing and guessed he'd be in the orange TNT jersey that at least one of his teammates had on.

I was still in the lead a little before the two mile mark when, on a downhill just before the long uphill, a white blur charged through the woods past me and into the lead, leaving a trail of debris in his wake.  It was such a sudden and bold move, Ryan and I both mumbled in astonishment.  Sure enough, it was Bob Jackman, disguised in a white jersey.  He was already almost out of sight as we ascended the steep hill, and I quickly moved aside and urged Ryan to go after him, figuring he was now the best chance we had at an individual WTAC victory.  As Ryan went by, I gave him a push in the back (probably illegal...but it's for the team!) to get him moving up the hill in pursuit.  Ryan went for it but gradually ran out of steam, and I eventually pulled back up behind him as we finally reached the course's high point.  Bob was long gone by this point, his huge move executed to perfection.

Slogging out of the switchbacks after abandoning
my fallen teammate.  Photo by Jana Walker

I ran along behind Ryan through the switchbacks, content with the pace and position, until he took a spill around a sharp curve.  I went ahead of him (like a jerk) and pushed as hard as I could the rest of the way to try to close Bob's gap to a respectable amount.  It was frustrating trying to mount a kick in the final 400 meters but having my legs spin under me like I was Scooby-Doo chasing Old Man Murphy at the abandoned amusement park.  At long last, I pulled through the finish line in 23:52 for 2nd, a full 20 seconds behind Bob, who really earned this win, and just barely ahead of Ryan, who surely would have beaten me in normal conditions.  As at the Christmas 10K, it was awesome to watch the train of WTAC singlets cross the line in succession behind me - Jeff, Nate, Jonny, Seth, and even Muddy a short time afterward in his glorious return to racing.  A great team performance in tough conditions.  I'd expect no less from this hearty group.

Kudos to Mike Galoob for putting on the race despite the weather and then absolutely crushing two indoor track races later in the day.  He is a machine.

Post-race WTAC team shot. I guess I was the only one who didn't get the memo
about not touching each other.  Sorry guys.  Photo by Jana Walker.

2013 - A review

If you'd told me in March that 2013 would be my most successful year of running since college, I'd have laughed and laughed and laughed. You see, I laugh when I'm uncomfortable, and I get uncomfortable when people talk to me, but some of that laughing would also have been because that would have seemed like crazy talk.  Here's why: by the end of March, I had gone roughly 100 days without running a step, due to a badly sprained ankle and bone bruise sustained during the Old Mountain 5K in December.

[Sad and pathetic side note: I sprained the ankle with about a mile to go in the race and only kept running because I wanted to introduce myself to Jonny afterwards.  It was a great short-term move (we met!), but a very poor long-term move (the messed up ankle).]

I slowly built up my running after getting the OK from the doctor, started racing in July, and was miraculously running well a short time later.  There were two moments in particular that made me realize I'd gotten back in shape sooner than I'd expected:

The first was at the Bottone track mile in July.  I had no idea what pace to run in this race, so I took it out conservatively because there's nothing worse than hitting a wall on the track where everyone can watch every step of your demise.  Once I was safely through the first three laps, I discovered I had another gear left and churned out a 62 final lap.  That was shocking.  I'd given too much of a lead to the front pack and couldn't reel them in, but it was fun trying to close the gap in the last 400.

When my sister saw this photo, she asked, "Why do you look so old and so pale?"  I want to know why the other guys all look so young and so tan. 

The second was a couple of weeks later at a WTAC fun run.  I cruised the first mile with Jonny in ~6:00 and then decided to try accelerating throughout the rest of the run (see the graph below for proof!).  The second mile was 5:20 and the third was 5:00.  I don't think I'd ever finished a race with a 5-minute mile.

WTAC fun run pace profile (center part of graph). 

What I liked about 2013:

View from San Juan run.  Other, less savory,
views from same run not shown.

• No significant time missed to injuries after returning from the ankle sprain.  This is extremely rare for me.  I've missed running three of the past ten years due to some major leg maladies.
• Running my fastest times since college in a few events - 5K, 4 miles, 10K.  It was reassuring to discover there is life left in these  legs.
• Running in some new and interesting places.  Puerto Rico, California, Colorado, Oregon, Washington, Virginia, as well as discovering many of the great local trails and roads in RI.
• Joining the Westerly Track and Athletic Club.  After running mostly alone for the past 10 years, I joined this fabulous club.  I felt like I knew most of the guys already after reading their blogs while I was returning from the ankle sprain.  I was hooked once I joined the crew for a Summer Solstice sunrise run (at 4:45 AM, no less -- isn't this how the military tricks you into allegiance?).  

Why 2013 went so well:

• I have no idea.  Really.  But I have a few guesses:



Running the Bridge 2 Bridge race in my hometown.

• A bunch of injury-prevention activities.  Running only on trails, lifting, hip-strengthening, foam rolling, dynamic stretching, shoe rotation, ankle braces, shoe inserts, post-run refueling, ice, ointment, the list goes on and on.  I don't know which things helped and which didn't matter, but I'm going to continue doing them all until I have a reason not to.
• Group workouts.  Getting on the track with Jonny, Galoob, and Nate really helped me regain some speed for my fall races.  The early morning starts were rough, but I never left a workout feeling like I would've rather stayed in bed.
• Strava.  This one might require some logic bending.  I joined Strava in April and used it as a fun way to get in shape without too much pressure.  I loved the challenge of trying to go after various CRs, even if I got a bit carried away sometimes (Galoob even referred to me as a "Strava menace" at one point).  By only running fast when I felt like it, I avoided getting locked into a specific training plan, and I was able to push and back off when my body told me to do either.  

Looking ahead - 2014 Goals:

• Stay injury-free!  This is always my number one goal.  Injuries are the source of all that's wrong with this world.  Drought, famine, terrorism -- these can all be traced back to someone's running injury.
• Get fast.  I want to get back on the track and run some decent short-distance times.  Sub-2:00 800, sub-4:30 mile.  
• Hack a few seconds off 2013 race times.  Sub-16 5K, 10K PR, sub-47 at Li'l Rhody
• Get in triathlon shape.  This requires getting back in the pool and some more serious cycling.  Would love to join Jeff and Tom at some local races.
• Get strong.  More consistent lifting, chucking some rocks around the yard, whatever it takes.  Time to be a little less scrawny.

Looking forward to a new year and new running adventures.

Christmas 10K

After some peer pressure and internal deliberation, I've decided to give this running blog thing a shot.  I know myself well enough that I won't make any promises to provide weekly updates or to log every run.  Instead, I'm hoping that recording some of my training and racing over time will cumulatively result in a historical reference that I can easily comb through while preparing for future races or reliving the glory days.  Also, I spend so much time reading the blogs of my WTAC brethren, it's only fair to subject them to my own.  So, there you have it.  Now let's jump right in.

I had promised myself that I wouldn't specifically train for any races in 2013.  After enduring many years of injuries, this was to be my "run for the fun of it" year.  But my running loneliness got the better of me, and when I had the chance to jump into a training group with Jonny, Nate, and Mike G., I went for it.  They were embarking on a 10K training plan with a focus on the Christmas 10K in Newport, RI.  I hadn't run a 10K in over 5 years, so why not give it a shot?

Plot of the gap between my PR and the WR in various events. If only one
of those was 0%...

Yesterday, we put our training to the test.  My goal coming into the race was to run 5:30 pace, which would put me just over 34 minutes.  On a good day, I thought I might be able to dip under 34, and a great day might even mean a PR (33:43).  The 10K is not my best event.  In fact, based on my Optimal Event Curve (TM), it might be one of my worst, but it's not a bad thing to stretch yourself every once in a while.  With the uncertain weather forecast, I was all set to put aside any time aspirations and focus instead on helping secure a WTAC team victory.  But the weather turned out to be quite nice -- shorts and tank-top weather for some (lunatics) on my team -- so the 5:30 pace plan was on.  Time to see how well I had prepared.

The race went out as expected.  Galoob shot to the lead and I settled into the gap between him and Jonny and Bob Jackman, right where I had planned to be.  The first mile is net downhill, and I hit the split in a comfortable 5:16.  Right around this time, I heard footsteps approaching.  It wasn't the pitter patter of Jonny's quick stride, so who was it?  I didn't have much time to think before a lumberjack of a fellow sidled up next to me.  It was Bob, clearly feeling strong and continuing to push the pace as he went by.  I decided to take advantage of our size disparity and fall in behind him on the windy stretch in mile 2.  This can be a risky move if you end up behind one of those old school runner types who hasn't showered since April; fortunately, Bob had recently Vidal Sassooned his beard, so I willingly followed his squeaky clean wind-break.

We spent the next four miles in roughly this position.  Bob leading, me following.  He threw down some grunt-fueled surges every time I got up on his shoulder, and I did my best to cover his moves.  I didn't really pay any attention to anything on the course besides Bob through this stretch.  At one point, I remember slipping on some seaweed, and at another a car rudely pulled out in front of us, leaving us breathing in a cloud of exhaust.  The rest is a blur.  My only plan was to continue running ~5:30 pace and to be within striking distance of Bob when we hit the final mile.  Mile 2-5 splits: 5:30, 5:26, 5:35, 5:32.

Suffering is correlated to degree of lower lip hang.

This is an 8 out of 10. (Photo courtesy of Jana Walker)

After we hit the 5-mile mark, I accelerated up the long gradual hill and finally got some separation.  Now I just needed to maintain the pressure as long as I could so that he wouldn't have a chance to respond.  I soon discovered that I'd been relying on Bob for more than wind relief; he was also my navigator.  I didn't know the course and apparently neither did the police officers manning the intersections.  When I approached the first officer, I mustered a slurred "which way?", to which he slowly pointed left just as I was hitting the intersection.  Coming down the next hill, I spotted another officer.  Must be a right turn, otherwise why would he be here?  I asked him where to go, and he ignored me.  I asked again, and he shrugged.  Didn't Galoob and a pace car already come through here?  I started to make the right turn but was saved by Bob's yell to go straight.  What a good guy.  I totally would have waited a few more seconds before redirecting an opponent.  (Just kidding...I think.)  I frantically picked up the pace after getting back on the course and tried to make sure my blunder didn't cost me 2nd place.  I gave everything I could on the final hill, crossing the line in 34:04, less than 10 seconds ahead of Bob, to whom I really owe this race in so many ways.

It was awesome to join Mike at the finish line and see four more WTAC runners - Jonny, Jeff, Nate, and Seth -- cross the line in succession behind Bob.  What a team performance.

A potpourri of prizes were available after the race (I made off with beer, a gift certificate, and a radio).  We celebrated as a team (minus Jonny) with a solid lunch before heading home.  I'm not sure if I'm more satisfied with the race or with the burger.  A sure sign of a good day.