Fall Classic

Ah, racing season again. I think I'm in love. With my "fast" shoes that is.

I've gotta say, although I haven't had much luck training this summer, I really can't complain about my races. For the second time in as many races I've managed another PB, at another distance no less.

So,

A nice cool morning for racing, sun shining, birds singing etc...at 10:00 we got the start (on time, even). My plan was to run nice even splits of 6:56/mile until about 5k to go, then finish strong, like I said, we got the start and off I went with the leaders, running 5:48. Eventually everyone got their pace settled down, and the first mile ticked by at 6:13. "Wow, that was pretty fast, but I feel good." I thought, foolishly. In mile 2 came the Bay Bridge, and I started making up ground on the leaders while going up (letting them pass again on the way down), and mile 2 flew by at 6:37, still fast, but feeling strong. I walked (yes, walked) through the first two water stations, and miles 3 and 4 both look like a pretty mellow 6:48 and 6:50 until you look at the graph, and my race instinct started to ask for things that my legs were becoming reluctant to provide. I soldiered on, not yet sensing the impending doom.
The hill near the end of mile 4 provided me with the opportunity to pace a racer I was suprised to be with, and I approached cautiously, waiting for the consequences of an ill timed attack. Almost disappointed when the counter didn't come I accelerated ahead, still unaware of the rapid count-down in my time-bomb legs.
Mile 5 saw a 6:35, so I slowed a little and mile 6 was a conservative 6:53, but the damage had been done, and I started pulling from my book of mental tricks to try and maintain pace and sanity.
A time check at mile 7 revealed the reality that I'd been hoping was imagined, I'd gone out too fast, and the entire run home would be an exercise in suffering when 7:18 flashed onto my Garmin. My few successful training runs had not been enough to prepare me for this kind of effort, and now I had to pay.
6:53. In a last ditch effort to put distance between myself and my rivals I dug deep and accelerated back to "race pace", but things were growing increasingly dim, and the 7:11 and 2 7:14's of the next 3 miles were a testament to that, my heart rate never dropped below 87%, but my legs were not immune to the punishment of the first 5 miles. I was fading.
2 racers caught me, and the last 3 miles were a constant battle between my mind not willing to let them go, and my legs begging me to slow down. As the Bay Bridge approached for the second time I was hopefull that they hadn't gotten too far ahead, hills are my specialty, but as I climbed and my muscles burned and ached it became obvious that there wasn't enough left in the tank to close 100m on a hill like that. I'd made up time, but not nearly enough, my only thought now was to keep from being caught.
As I hammered down the bridge, I slowly accelerated, 7:49, 6:37, 6:23, even down a hill like this I couldn't get up to sprinting speed. 7:10, 7:17, no I need to go faster, not slower. 6:12, 6:01, that's better, Oh, God look how fast they're going now, 7:49. Don't quit now, only 800m to go, 7:46, 7:17, that's better, 200m now sprint 6:28, 5:45, 50m go hard! 4:29, 3:46, it's over. 1 hour, 30 minutes and 10 seconds. Just 10 seconds off my goal, 6 min. 18 sec. faster than my PB, and 30 seconds/mile faster than my required BQ pace. I think I can do that.

Did I mention how much I like those red shoes?

Mike