My Dad had asked me to do this race for a couple of years; he used to work for the Mental Health Association of Westchester, and still supports it, and it was great to see him that morning. My younger son allowed me to sign him up for the race, but later told me he’d rather not wake up that early thank you. But my wife got herself to the gym and came to the race!
A simple breakfast of bulletproof style coffee and banana; I couldn’t be bothered with protein powder and applesauce for such a short race. Gotta love a community event: race time began at 9:45, very civilized indeed.
The other thing about a small town-style race is realizing that most runners are there for fun and very few runners are serious about “Results”. My last 5k was October 2012 – 4 years younger, but 21:30 sure looks like a time I can beat, now. I decided I want to break 21 minutes, which I thought meant running around 6:50s… So my focus was different than the guy I met who hadn’t run since the NYC Marathon 2 years ago…
As I started to warm up, doing drills and striders, realizing the rain was pretty light and it’s not so cold after all, I looked for and found the guy who had set up the timing equipment to determine what the course was, because none of the volunteers had a clue, and I was likely to be among the leaders of the pack. (THAT’s a new but realistic assessment.)
Sure enough, the horn goes off (more like, “bleats like a sad, dying goat…”), and I hear Rachel shout out from the parking lot (and give her an overhead can’t-look-at-you-I’m-racing wave), and I’m in the front line with the middle aged Guy in Orange, the Serious Guy With Arm Warmers (SGWAW) and the young Guy With Blond Ponytail. And there are virtually NO volunteers on the road. Ponytail says, “where do we turn?” Me: “we go straight.” Ponytail: “You done this race before?” Me: “No.” Ponytail: “Oh, fuck…”
Mr. Orange is super relaxed, and OMG fast. He starts peeling away until, by the time we get to the turnaround just shy of Mile 1, he’s literally out of sight. Turns out he’s Welfur Ramon, originally from Ecuador and who lives right there in Yorktown Heights, and he finishes in 19:21 (6:15 min/miles). The 24-year old Ponytail is an afterthought –he drops back pretty quickly (ah, that’s a satisfaction). But SGWAW is grimly trudging along and accelerating – he’s the bunny I’m chasing, but I realize once again, I’m running MY race, and I am not going to catch him. I glance up to see the park’s famous lake (“Hmmph. Pretty. Back to work.”); the best I can do is not let the gap between us get too large.
We trot downhill (glorious!) past the water station (for a 5k? No, thank you, outta my way), round the bend, and there’s Mile 2, but that last Mile 3 seems sooooo long, and it’s UPHILL for ¼ mile, not too steep, but draining, how to keep up the pace?, and I’m closing the gap on SGWAW, but at the crest of the hill he accelerates and I can’t go any faster. I start striding longer – no, no, that’s how I get injured; so I remember to lift from the hips and push off harder instead.
And I realize that I’m not chasing him, I’m chasing 21:00, or more accurately, it’s chasing me, and unbelievable I see the 3 mile sign, and still that last 1/10th mile is killing me, and I see the clock already at 21:00, I sprint with whatever’s left in the tank, and I cross the line at 21:24.
Damn, I think at first. Only a 6 second PR. But later I do the math – and 6 seconds means the difference between 7:00 minute/mile and 6:54. I’ve broken the 7 minute barrier! And I came in 3rd Overall. (I highly recommend very small races…)
The season is young, and I’m having fun and getting faster. And (focus on form) not injured.