Finally the weather and my schedule aligned to let me run with (against) other people. I felt pretty good about it until I showed up in my sweatpants and thermal undershirt and saw people in spandex and neon shoes. Surely I am out of my league. They've dressed the part and I'm carrying a diaper bag. But I suppose I also felt pretty lucky to have an entourage, something most runners did not (5 family members came!) Still, I was a bit uneasy. Look at those calves -- look at that...no, don't look at that.
And then -- a sigh of relief as I sighted a gaggle of 40-something moms. Phew! Wait - should I be happy I'll have them to pass? How about another 30-ish guy who looks kinda fit but doesn't look the part? After freezing for about 15 minutes in the 12 degree weather, it was time to line up and receive instructions. The race leader was affable, mildly funny, and everything you'd expect an MEC employee to be. And other people were laughing. Hey, this might be fun. I think I even see a pair of basketball shoes over there.
My dad called last night to say: "Go out slow. Everyone else is going to want to go out fast and so will you. But they'll run out of steam and you'll pass them." So I picked my place just behind the middle of the pack. Far enough back that I'm not being passed by gazelles and pressured into running faster than I can. Far enough forward that I'm not stuck in traffic. Passed about 15-20 people in the first half mile, then settled into a steady pace. See some of those overzealous ones ahead. Here I come....and pass. Every minute or two I pass another.
And then, at around 2 km I hearing some big feet running up behind me. A guy a foot taller than me buzzes right by - my first pass. How is he passing so quickly? Surely he must be from the 15 km race that left earlier and he's lapping us. Right? I've got two guys about my age 50 yards ahead and the big feet are pulling another 100 yards ahead of that. The real runners are long out of sight and the overzealous are way back where they lost their zeal. It's just the four of us that I'm aware of. I'll stick with those two guys and let Long Legs take off.
3 km in. It looks like these guys are fading. I don't want to get cocky and then have them pass me later. Nope, they are slowing down. I pour on a little juice and pass the first one. It's not at all like passing on the highway where the driver speeds up as soon as they're being passed. I think I hear his feet slow down as soon as I'm by. And here's comes the second guy -- maybe I'll just stick to his pace until the end. No -- he's slowing down too. And another pitter-patter wanes. Wishfully, I almost hear an audible clunk as his heart hits his stomach. But Long Legs is still jogging away 200 yards ahead.
I close the gap a meter at a time and as we enter the track for a final lap I can see I'm only about 80 yards back. The finishing kick I expected of my legs is slow coming and I do believe fatigue is setting in. I see my family cheering and I pick it up. A little bit faster, a little bit more. He's not looking back, but he sure is slowing down. I'll really have to give-r. 100 yards left and here's a full sprint. He's still jogging and I might even...
Nope. He beat me anyways. But I've no idea what place I'm in or my time. Neither does he - we've both forgotten our watches. I checked the website this afternoon and there's a 30 second gap between me and the previous finisher. Impossible! He was 2 or 3 seconds ahead - I guess he didn't have a number on. I hope he can find his time, but either way Long Legs won the day (22nd place, that is).
My goal - sub-23 minutes. My time - 22:54. Success.
And then -- a sigh of relief as I sighted a gaggle of 40-something moms. Phew! Wait - should I be happy I'll have them to pass? How about another 30-ish guy who looks kinda fit but doesn't look the part? After freezing for about 15 minutes in the 12 degree weather, it was time to line up and receive instructions. The race leader was affable, mildly funny, and everything you'd expect an MEC employee to be. And other people were laughing. Hey, this might be fun. I think I even see a pair of basketball shoes over there.
My dad called last night to say: "Go out slow. Everyone else is going to want to go out fast and so will you. But they'll run out of steam and you'll pass them." So I picked my place just behind the middle of the pack. Far enough back that I'm not being passed by gazelles and pressured into running faster than I can. Far enough forward that I'm not stuck in traffic. Passed about 15-20 people in the first half mile, then settled into a steady pace. See some of those overzealous ones ahead. Here I come....and pass. Every minute or two I pass another.
And then, at around 2 km I hearing some big feet running up behind me. A guy a foot taller than me buzzes right by - my first pass. How is he passing so quickly? Surely he must be from the 15 km race that left earlier and he's lapping us. Right? I've got two guys about my age 50 yards ahead and the big feet are pulling another 100 yards ahead of that. The real runners are long out of sight and the overzealous are way back where they lost their zeal. It's just the four of us that I'm aware of. I'll stick with those two guys and let Long Legs take off.
3 km in. It looks like these guys are fading. I don't want to get cocky and then have them pass me later. Nope, they are slowing down. I pour on a little juice and pass the first one. It's not at all like passing on the highway where the driver speeds up as soon as they're being passed. I think I hear his feet slow down as soon as I'm by. And here's comes the second guy -- maybe I'll just stick to his pace until the end. No -- he's slowing down too. And another pitter-patter wanes. Wishfully, I almost hear an audible clunk as his heart hits his stomach. But Long Legs is still jogging away 200 yards ahead.
I close the gap a meter at a time and as we enter the track for a final lap I can see I'm only about 80 yards back. The finishing kick I expected of my legs is slow coming and I do believe fatigue is setting in. I see my family cheering and I pick it up. A little bit faster, a little bit more. He's not looking back, but he sure is slowing down. I'll really have to give-r. 100 yards left and here's a full sprint. He's still jogging and I might even...
Nope. He beat me anyways. But I've no idea what place I'm in or my time. Neither does he - we've both forgotten our watches. I checked the website this afternoon and there's a 30 second gap between me and the previous finisher. Impossible! He was 2 or 3 seconds ahead - I guess he didn't have a number on. I hope he can find his time, but either way Long Legs won the day (22nd place, that is).
My goal - sub-23 minutes. My time - 22:54. Success.
