I rolled up to the packet pick-up table of this morning’s 5K with exactly one piece of information about the course:
“Wow, the second mile is really going to suck,” one of my friends had mused, reflecting on the route. “And the first mile too.”
He didn’t say anything about the third mile, which lead me to vaguely hope that perhaps golf cart would be coming to pick us up after the second mile marker and escort us to the finish.
(Spoiler: no such luck, of course.)
But even without the pre-race chatter, I could have guessed that this course would be a doozy. I had skirted around the neighborhood on occasional training runs and knew that it was notorious for long climbers. I was prepared to face a race where there would be zero flat terrain.
Just for funsies, I left my Garmin at home and tossed my watch in the car at the last minute, too. Because I kind of wanted to actually race this. Not that I was going to set any PRs today; but I wanted to force myself to engage and compete with the runners around me, rather than focusing on my shitty splits.
I mean…that’s what you pay the twenty bucks for, right? Because it’s not for the ugly t-shirt.
Anyway. It was a rather frigid morning for Raleigh when, after a 25-minute warm-up, I forced myself to peel off my jacket and line up at the start. The starters jabbered and stalled. I shivered and did a few strides. The front of the corral was packed with teenage boys. (Side note: this Justin Bieber hair is a trend gone completely out of control.) There were very few women near the front. Odd.
Finally, we were off. A half mile or so of rolling descent. As the lead pack thinned and spread out I scanned the vicinity for ponytails. There were three in front of me. We turned and headed straight uphill. One ponytail faded quickly and I cruised past her easily.
The steep hill flattened for about thirty feet before another turn, which dumped us on to a main road and a slightly more gentle incline. It was a road I’d run on before. I knew we were going to be climbing for several minutes. I set my jaw and passed the first mile marker.
Two chicks still in front of me: third place isn’t a bad place to be! I’m trying to give myself a pep talk. I’m sure I’ve probably gone out a little too fast (I always do) but I really have no idea what pace I’m running. That’s kind of refreshing, actually. Climb, climb, climb. Finally, in the distance, I see the lead pack turn off on a side street. Thank freaking jeebus, we’re not taking this thing to its crest.
Just as I’m feeling slightly optimistic about my situation, two ponytails pass me. One is wearing yoga pants. I scowl. Number five. I speed up a bit and fall in to step with them, determined to keep their pace. We run for a couple of minutes in a little triangle. We pick off one of the chicks who started in front of me. Number four.
I start wondering when the second mile marker will pop up. Because it feels like it should be soon.
We exit the long hill and I see that there’s a turnaround a few blocks away. I see the lead guys coming back. I immediately jump to a depressing conclusion: this must be an out-and-back course. That means as we hit this turnaround, we are halfway done. That means I’ve run approximately 1.55 miles instead of two. F. M. L.
And that’s when I feel myself go flat. My shoulders slump a bit; my feet stay a little closer to the ground. I can feel that I’m giving up, but the indignant part of my psyche justifies it: this is ridiculous, that we’ve only gone a mile and a freaking half. What a stupid race. What a horrible course.
I swing around the turn and realize: the next turn is not back on to the main road. We’re heading somewhere else. It’s not out and back. Just as I’m processing this, I spot the two mile marker. I feel a little revived.
And then I get passed by an older woman with a gym-teacher haircut. I’ve seen her before: I know she’s a good runner – consistently better than me, anyway. Honestly, I’m surprised she was behind me. I let it go and try to focus on coaxing my flat legs and noodle arms back in to a decent cadence.
I’m in position number five and we are going downhill – dropping all of that elevation we gained in the last mile and a half. Gym teacher is quickly picking folks off; I let her go. I can see yoga pants in the pack ahead of me and try to focus on bringing her closer. Chug, chug, chug.
A few minutes elapse and I start a finish line vigil. It has to be close. The course is turning all over the place, which makes it difficult to gauge. I note to myself that no one has passed me – male or female – since we started our descent. Finally, we hang a right and I see the balloon arch about 200M away. I have no idea what kind of time I’m looking at, and unfortunately yoga pants and the other ponytails are far off targets, but I pick it up and give it as much of a kick as I can. I take a couple of guys, which is fun.
When I can finally decipher the clock, I determine that I’m definitely coming in at 21:XX, which feels about right. I’m not elated, but I’m not depressed either.
Official finish time: 21:48.
I won my age group. Which is kind of funny. Weak field? Definitely, but…eh, whatever. A win is a win.
At the end of the day, I feel neither good nor bad about this one. The time isn’t anything spectacular, but it was a tough course, and I’d like to think that if I’d done my homework a bit I would have played it a bit differently. Oh well.
I will say that I am very much looking forward to a FLAT course at the Shamrock Half next month. Hills are obnoxious.
After a 40-minute cool-down, I collected my swag and headed home for some coffee and a warm shower. I came home to an unimpressed crowd:
Someone forgot to feed them breakfast before leaving for her race.
And now, for something completely different, I’m packing for a little trip out west. I leave tomorrow morning. Here’s a hint…
I’m spoiled, I know. Feel free to leave hateful comments. It would amuse me.
See y’all from Mountain Standard Time…
Comin’ hoooome with the hardware. Nice job! (What is going on in that medal etching, by the way? I see a bear wearing a dress and sunglasses, standing in a puddle, and holding a torch.)
Agreed that hills are obnoxious, especially in 5Ks. Glad you’ll get the opportunity to race a flatter course for the upcoming half.
That is pretty close, actually! There was a “Polar Plunge” associated with the event as well. (I passed on that one.)
In my Matthew Perry voice: “you teasing, little bitch.”
I think it’s adorable you make checklists.
A necessity, lest I end up with a suitcase lacking underwear.
We have one monster hill in town that all race organizers think they need to add in their courses. No, no you don’t.
This reminds me that I’m about to do a half in St. Louis that is known for it’s one killer sloooooow hill. Damn I hate hills… What was I thinking?
Solid race, though! A win is a win. 😉
woohoo age group win! also, i think you get better at microsoft paint each day. i love that your cat stole your medal.
Hills take so much out of you…even if they aren’t the biggest. I learned that at my marathon in Tulsa after training hard on mostly flats. Won’t make that mistake again!
Have a great trip!
Great job on an AG win! I hate hills. Probably because I rarely run them.
Have fun skiing!
Great recap! And you won your age group..that is awesome!
Have fun out west – your check list makes me jealous! 🙂
U R A CUNT AND EVEN UR CAT KNOWS IT
Oh wait, that’s what my hater said to me.
I like that you have a thought process very similar to mine when picking off people. Anyone in yoga pants irks me as much as a running skirt.
Ok, almost as much.
Sounds like a solid race though given the hills. Have a beer or six on me! (And by on me, I mean you buy it and pretend I did.)
Well have fun on your vacation, miss age-grouper. I sort of think hills are like stairs – some people get up them faster than other people, but they’re tough on everyone. Have you ever seen ANYONE, even a crazy athletic person, get to the top of a flight of stairs and not be out of breath? No. It’s because they are horrible. Ramps for everyone! Oh. But those would sort of be hills, huh?
Congrats! A win is a win, don’t diminish it. 😀
My first 5k race I was passed by an old lady with a bionic leg. I was crushed.
Nice AG win! Although really the prize goes to your cat for sleeping all day and still getting a medal.
Congrats on winning your AG! I’m sure powering through those hills today will pay dividends somewhere in the future.
I would leave a hateful comment about your trip, but my sunny and upper twenty-degree weather has me feeling happy and benevolent. Enjoy the trip 😀
holler to winning. and to racing. on hills. which suck in general but in a race they’re brutal. seems like you beasted them quite well. i hope you’re celebrating appropriately.
JEALOUS! say hi to my cousins and uncle!
Congrats on the age group win Shelby! That’s npt a shabby time for a hilly course. You’re going to leaving the 21 club behind in the dust by the end of the season.
Enjoy your trip! This is the best time to be out there.
Nice job! Post-college PR at Shamrock coming, I’m calling it now.
Awesome job on the AG win! Sucks about yoga pants. I hate when the the moms are really just secretly speedy Kenyans in baggie pants and “my mom runs” t-shirts.
Like you said, a win is a win!
I was seriously LOL-ing at “gym teacher” and “yoga pants”.
I’ve never been skiing. Sounds like a cold and miserable time. Power to you.
I saw several runners this weekend in yoga pants and t shirts with hoodies, zipped open, flapping in the wind…running. I just don’t understand how that’s even comfortable – at either a physical or moral level.
hehe, +1 to Sarah’s comment about even crazy, athletic people getting winded by stairs (and hills). I can run marathons, but the subway stairs still make me gasp for breath – every.single.morning.
Congrats on the age group W!!