My apologies for the lack of maintenance on the blog lately. You know the problem: winter is over and training time is ramping up faster than the time management skills. Where over the past few months we often experienced topical void (is that like a hole in your skin?), now I've got lots to write about, but unless I succumb and just spit it out all quick and disorganized like this, the chronicles never make it to the keyboard.
First up, meeting one more of my running goals, I PR'd for the 10K on Sunday at the Cohasset Road Race by the Sea. Due to a persistent calf/foot issue, the entire week prior I wavered back and forth on whether or not to start this race. Only running two times, both of them short, painful sessions, I got some rest and rode the bike each night, which had to start happening anyway. On Friday I determined the problem was indeed muscular in nature, with some tightness in the outer calf pinching something and causing pain down through the ankle and into the foot and heel with each foot strike. Breaking out the oil, I did some self-massage to loosen up the calf, and then tried using some amazing Bio-Freeze to kill the pain and get some sleep. By Saturday, everything was feeling great and the race was a go.
Saturday afternoon I went out on the bike. Intentionally holding back, and constrained by time, I rode about 60K at a modest tempo, all zone two stuff on the abundant flats surrounding the hometown. I felt great and would have liked to have stayed out for another hour and dug a bit, but I resisted. Later in the night, feeling the tightness returning, second thoughts entered my head, but when race day dawned crisp and sunny, off I went.
The Cohasset race is a pretty big deal; the race starts right in the center of the seaside village, attracting almost 1000 runners. In Massachusetts at this time of year, there are typically a half dozen or more road races to choose from on any weekend, so the talent gets spread out quite a bit. Still, there were several runners from GBTC and the other big clubs lined up on the front row. Since my 40:26 last year netted me top 40, I felt justified in lining up right behind them. Warming up the foot did not feel that great. The twinge with each step wasn't making me limp like it had early in the week, but its presence didn't inspire confidence either.
The gun went off and we ran down the main drag for about a quarter of a mile before turning onto the road along the north edge of the harbor. There was a headwind and I tried to stay tucked in behind what seemed like fifty runners ahead of me. After a bit we turned north and covered a roller or two before hitting the first mile marker at 5:57. I felt like I was suffering quite a bit, but my HR was only 161 and this was still ten seconds slower than I ran the first mile at the Brockton 5 miler, so I pressed on. PRs are supposed to hurt, right? The second mile led out to Jerusalem Road where the mighty Atlantic again becomes visible on your right. Past the million dollar homes, my second split was 6:13. Last year at this point the headwinds were brutal, and this is where I lost my chance at sub 40. This year the wind was just not there, and I was getting pretty warm.
The third mile split was 6:22, which was about two seconds ahead of the pace I needed to average in order to break forty minutes. Doing the math in my head, I knew I had about thirty seconds cushion, but I also realized I was slowing down and could easily blow it. Compounding the issue, despite wearing only shorts and a poly tshirt base layer, I was overheating. Adding to my plight, the fourth mile is clearly the toughest on this course. You hit two or three big rollers, then turn left onto Forest Ave and head back inland. The first hundred yards of Forest are a steep little climb. Last year this sine wave of a road was where the wind died and the race became an inferno. Luckily this year, conditions were just the opposite, and the mild headwind greeting us there provided a welcome relief.
Not so welcome was the 6:54 split awaiting me at the top. A few good runners surged by me too. This road is tough. There are about seven little bumps in the road, probably twenty feet in amplitude, providing difficulty without ever really giving you a long enough downhill facilitate any real recovery. I knew this was do or die. I got it back down to 6:34 by focusing on the backs of those who'd passed me. A 32 flat 5 mile time made this my third fastest ever for that distance. Right after that, I found my left shoe, the one with the chip, had untied! Looking down, at first I thought the chip was gone. FUCK! Without it, this was all for naught. I stopped, and to my glee, when the shoe came into focus I realized I'd put the chip a few eyelets down. The shoe was still secure, so I just started running again.
The last mile has quite a bit of downhill before a quick rise right before the final 200 meters where the clock comes into view. My ankle was getting whipped by the flying laces, but that was the least of my suffering. This running shit is hard. I pushed like I never have before in a running race. This was like the last five minutes of a 40K TT on the bike. Not daring to look at my watch, I held my spot and the clock came into view with 39:15 on it. I figured it couldn't take more than thirty seconds to run the final distance, but I wasn't taking any chances. I hammered all the way to the line and thought it said 39:40 when I crossed the mats, but my official time posted was 39:46, 28th overall, 8/145 in the master 40's. I made it. And it sucked. That's all I have time for now, thanks for reading.
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