The race was actually being put on by an organization based out of the University of Pittsburgh whose purpose is to raise funds and awareness for Malawi. Check them out here.
In the spirit of being conscious of worldly matters, they also pulled through and offered shuttles to and from the race site. Since there were so many Pitt students competing, they ran the shuttles from the Pitt Union. All in all, I believe 5 full buses were taken to the race site. Awesome.
I wanted to take the shuttle, but my good friend Mappleton was driving. I tried to get him to take the shuttle with me, but he wasn't having it, so I hitched a ride with him.
The 10-day weather forecast for the entire week was saying that the weather would be beautifully sunny and about 50 degrees by the time the race started at 10. However, the night before the race, Mapple called and said that they changed the forecast to 30 degrees and a wintry mix for the morning. Great. I had a feeling I wasn't going to be happy in the sleeveless under armour and running shorts that I packed, but I was already at Kayla's for the night and didn't feel like going all way home just to get something else. After all, it would only be a 17 or 18 minute race; maybe it would make me run faster.
The morning came and it turned out to be pretty mellow. The sun was shining when I was picked up at a quarter after 8. It was pretty chilly, but not like the thirty degrees that was threatening the night before. It looked as though it would be acceptably warm by 10, but the hard, brisk wind that was blowing would not die down.
We got to the race site and milled around for an hour, watched the 10k start and took to the line ourselves. The air was warm, the sun was nice and we had stayed out of the wind for the most part by standing behind an ambulance parked at the start line. It was a strange feeling standing there, April already and about to start the first race of the season; the start of what I am still hoping will be a year to change all years.
Gun.
We all started to grind up the uphill grade that was the first quarter mile of the race. After seeing so many serious-looking people getting ready before the race, I was fully expecting that there would be a handful of 15-something 5k runners in the field. I was going to wait for them to come by at the start and see if I could hang on to any of them. But as I was running in the first line of people, I actually ended up holding back for a second, noticing that nobody was coming around me or taking charge. Apparently all those serious-looking people were just that: Serious-looking.
So since nobody else was going to, I went for it to see what would happen. What happened was me leading the race for the first two miles. I heard the patter of footsteps slowly but surely dropping away. Starting with the whole field, then to a dozen or so, then to maybe just a handful and finally just the single pair of feet, banging out a rhythm in synch with my own. I could feel him hanging there for maybe ten minutes or so, breathing down my neck and waiting for me to fail.
I was feeling good for the first two thirds of the race. Really good. But it was evident after trying a little surge here and there that my shadow was hanging on at least somewhat comfortably, obviously feeling good as well. I tried to pick up any sign of discomfort from his audible breathing. It was hard breathing for sure, just like my own, but not yet heavily labored.
After about two miles, he came around me. I hung on his heels for maybe a hundred yards until my breathing started to take on a familiar heaving quality that I knew indicated that I was at the limit. It was a little psychological blow to me to see his seemingly effortless stride in contrast with how heavy and inefficient mine was starting to feel. He slowly began to float away from me.
I was gone. Just sitting on what I could manage and hoping to see some familiar landmark that would signal the impending end to the race. With about a quarter-mile left, another runner slipped past me, but with much less gusto than the leader. I'm not sure where he had come from, as I didn't remember seeing anyone else behind me besides the now-leader a few minutes before.
I realized now that we were on the trail coming up to the finish. Second place wasn't very far in front so I tried to conserve what I could for the last effort and maybe come around him. I went for it and so did he. It was immediately obvious that he had more kick left than I did and that regaining second place wasn't going to happen.
It was a little disheartening to yet again come in third or some other position so close to the win, to literally watch the winner finish just in front of me. But more important than winning or losing the race was the time that I was looking for. Going into the race, I was hoping for a 17:30 or so. Approaching the line, I was shocked to see a time starting with 16! I stopped the clock at 16:53, 14 seconds behind the winner. I could have finished in 50th place and been happy with that time.
As I mentioned before, I think I can say that this dramatic speed improvement is courtesy of approaching this season with a short-course focus. Putting shorter, but harder efforts more often than what I was doing when preparing for a 70.3-focused season has definitely made a difference.
Training Update.
Awesome metric century ride on Sunday and some stretch cords. Felt really great, but dead tired later in the day and today as well. Though I have off from work, usually a great time to put in some quality sessions, I'm taking off today. I don't think I've had a real off-day in about a week and a half.
P.S. The car is awesome and I think the disc wheel is pending.
Cheers!
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