bearing blog: Results.

07 August 2010

Results.

If I could only learn to live in the moment, I'd have a much easier time running races. I spent the first two miles of my 5k worrying about the big hill that I was going to have to climb in the third mile. I'd seen it as soon as I rounded the first bend -- the half-marathoners, who got to go first of course, were running up that long, low hill and down the other side. No, it didn't look too steep, but it was so long!

It's not that I was afraid I couldn't run up the hill -- more like anticipating a needle stick. You know it's coming and it won't be fun.

So I sort of gritted my teeth and worried about the hill. I was worrying about climbing the hill when I passed the one-mile mark. I was worrying about climbing the hill when I rounded the turnaround. I was worrying about climbing the hill while people passed me and I tried to find someone I could pace myself against. Finally I spotted a woman wearing a bright pink top and with a long thick braid of red hair falling down her back -- she was going about as fast as I thought I could go, so I fell in behind her and tried to keep up. I worked for a while and nearly caught up before she picked up the pace. Another woman with a brightly colored hair band barely passed me -- I thought, maybe I can stay between these two? And that's what I worked on, staying in front of Hair Band and behind Red Braid.

Somewhere in there I felt a sort of ka-chunk in the pit of my stomach followed by a wave of desire to fall to a walk. It's a weird feeling that has hit me in all three races -- a very sudden feeling of emptiness. It feels like I suddenly get hungry, I told Mark later -- "Weird," he said. (He claims that running makes him lose his appetite until a good while after he's done.)

I don't know, maybe that's the moment when I suddenly run out of available muscle fuel? Who knows. It's a mini-bonk. "Oh no," I thought, "and I haven't climbed the hill yet!" Except that when I looked around I realized I was already almost to the crest of the hill -- the folks not far ahead were already starting to spill over the downhill. It had snuck up on me when I wasn't looking.

I made a mental note to add incline to my training runs, at the end, where I fear it the most.

"What's your strategy?" Mark had asked me before I started.

"Boring, steady pace."

"That's right! Keep it steady, and then you'll sprint to the finish!"

"I don't sprint."

"Come on! It's a downhill finish!"

"It flattens out before the end."

"I'll watch for you about a tenth of a mile from the end so MJ can cheer you on."

So, there I was, running steady, and now going downhill. I tried to swing my legs long and easy, resting them after the climb (which must have tired them out at least some, even though I didn't notice it at the time. Right?) Red Braid was still in front -- I could see her as she spat on the ground, stepped on the spit, her shoe peeling it up from the pavement. I thought maybe I could run the same pace as the downhill all the way to the end. I could see the road sign (40 mph) that I knew was half a block from the end. And then I could see the clock. The first two digits were a two and a six -- no, a seven!

I watched the clock counting up: 27:14, 27:15, 27:16. "Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen," I heard myself puffing. I picked up the pace, even as I thought, "I am not going to make it." Meaning my goal of twenty-seven-something. But a few steps later I realized that I had temporarily forgotten how many seconds there are in a minute. Sixty, not thirty. Okay then! And I crossed the line.

I gave the finisher's medal to my daughter for her fourth birthday today.

UPDATE: Data: My chip time was 27:27 -- a full minute faster than the last time I ran. I came in #82 overall out of 241 runners -- #35 out of 165 females, and #28 out of 126 females younger than forty.

I beat twenty-three of the 53 males younger than forty.

Me!

07 August 2010 in Chronological index: Me and my weight loss, Sports, Weight Subtopic Personal | Permalink