This was a busy weekend for me, race-wise. After coming off a tough marathon training
season, and some equally tough marathons, I was ready to race some different
distances on different surfaces. March
29-30 provided back-to-back opportunities: Sticks & Stones Trail 10k in
Matthews and City of Arts Half-Marathon in Winston-Salem. Game on!
STICKS & STONES TRAIL 10K
Nothing livens up a quick trail race like some inclement
weather leading up to the event.
Saturday morning, the overcast sky had not started leaking rain, but a
rainy Friday had left the trails slick enough to be interesting. Upon arriving at Col. Francis Beatty Park, I
met with fellow DARTers Chris Lamperski and Carl Haynes to preview the trail
conditions on a quick warm-up. While the
footing would be a bit slippery, the trails looked to be very conducive to some
hard, fast running.
As the 10k started, the field covered the first half mile or
so on paved roads and paths in order to string out the crowd before hitting the
single track trail. As I expected,
Lamperski took the lead from the very start.
Quickly, a lead pack of 6 or 7 runners pulled away, and I was not part
of it. By the time we reached the trail,
the leaders were out of reach, but I found myself at the head of a smaller
chase pack of about 5 runners. Minutes
later, 2 runners (Mr. Blue and Mr. Silver) passed me courteously in fairly
quick succession. 2 other runners’
footfalls remained within earshot, but I never got a very good look at
them.
After a mile, I was pretty confident that the other pursuers
would pose no real threat. Mr. Blue was
about 15 second ahead of me, and Mr. Silver was ahead of him and opening the
gap. Both stayed in my view for the next
few miles, but I focused mainly on my own effort. Looking at one’s pace is useless on
switchbacked trails, so I planned on maintaining a tempo-ish effort for the
first 2/3 of the race, and planned to hammer the pace for the last 1/3.
“Flow…flow” was the mantra I repeated in my head. I tried to enjoy the trails without relaxing
too much, and I glanced up occasionally to keep tabs on Mr. Blue and Mr.
Silver. The gap they had been opening
had stopped growing, so I reminded myself to stride wisely and focus on
myself.
At mile 4 (I think), I noticed Mr. Blue fading back to
me. There weren’t too many killer hills
on this course, but some of the switchbacks made for gradual ups and
downs. Mr. Blue kept fading on the
uphills. At around mile 4.5, he finally
was fed up with my looming footfalls, so he motioned for me to go ahead and
pass. When I did pass, I could tell by
his breathing and his expression that he was burning up far more quickly than
me. I doubted he would be any more of a
threat.
Mr. Silver had opened up a large gap, and even though I had
picked up the pace, I didn’t think I would have a chance to reel him in. Instead, I focused on putting space between
me and Mr. Blue. When Mr. Silver came
into view, I started counting the seconds between us using landmarks on the
course. 15 seconds here…12 seconds there…10
seconds…it was happening very gradually, but I was closing on him. Would I have enough real estate to get to
him? When we reached a familiar section
of trail that Chris, Carl, and I had scouted on our warm-up, I knew we were
close to the finish, and I knew there was some technical footing ahead.
I overtook Mr. Silver with abouta quarter-mile left in the race. He looked tired, but not yet out of the
fight. I’m always nervous trying to make
a decisive pass this late into a race, because it’s at this point where competitors
smell blood. I pushed the pace, but I focused
very keenly on the tricky footing, and I tried to look very confident and
strong in my stride to discourage Mr. Silver, just in case he had any funny
ideas about passing me back. When I
emerged from the trail and onto the paved path, I knew I had less than 100
meters left, so I sprinted to solidify my finishing place.
I finished in 7th place overall, which was good
enough for 2nd in my age group. Carl, who raced the 5k option,
earned 4th place overall in his race, and Chris was the overall
winner of the 10k. It was a good day for
DART, and this race was the perfect departure from my recent marathon
mania. After a brief cool-down with
Carl, I went home to rest up for the next day’s race.
 |
| From left: Carl, Yours Truly, and Chris. |
CITY OF ARTS HALF-MARATHON
I have many friends who make it a point to avoid inaugural
races. Perhaps I should have followed
their examples…
The RD of City of Arts Half Marathon had posted on the event
website that heavy rain leading up to the event may flood the Salem Creek
Greenway on part of the course and cause the Half-Marathon route to be changed
and significantly shortened. While no one wanted this to happen, it would
still beat a cancellation with no refund.
At packet pickup, I learned that the greenway was indeed flooded, and the
race would be on an alternate course.
Estimates for the new length varied between 15k and “about 12 ½ miles.” No one knew what to expect. The start line was almost 2 miles from the finish
line and packet pickup, so the RD arranged for buses to shuttle runners to the
start. Only, the two buses were short,
16-passenger airport-like shuttles, and the drivers kept making wrong turns to
get to the pick-up location. The
conditions were not optimal; it was cold, there were sustained 20-25 mph winds
with 40 mph gusts, and inclement weather was imminent. I didn’t know if there was a bag check at the
start, and I grew tired of shivering while waiting for a shuttle that might not
have room for me, so another racer and I decided to run the 1.75 miles to the
start in order to get our warm-up in.
Our timing seemed perfect. We
arrived at 7:50 for an 8am start.
However, due to the bus situation, the race did not get underway until
8:18am. So, several other runners and I
tried to avoid shivering by doing strides and jumping around. The frustration was evident on everyone’s
faces. A light wintery mix began to blow
upon us from the overcast sky. Well, that’s
just great…
When the race finally started, the signal was very
abrupt. The man with the bull-horn said “Ready—BWAAAANG
(as he sounded the horn’s siren),” with no warning or pause. So we all went from a casual upright stance
directly into a jarring, straight-to-race-pace run. Seriously?
3-4 frontrunners shot out and
opened up a big lead. Within minutes, a
chase group of 6-7 other speedsters packed together and started pulling away
from me. I was already at a quick pace,
so I reminded myself to ignore them and settle in for the waiting game.
Shortly before the 1-mile mark (according to Garmin, since
there were no mile markers), we made a turn onto a paved path leading towards the
Salem Creek Greenway. As soon as we hit
the path, a chilling, gale-force wind blasted us from the front. “F*** me!” I cursed as the freezing air
assaulted me and doubled the difficulty of my pace. Another runner named Hernan crouched behind
me and drafted me during this windy stretch.
I couldn’t blame him. Hernan
passed me as we turned onto the greenway proper, and he quickly caught up with
the chase pack. 2 more runners—to whom I
will refer as Ken and Ken’s friend—caught up to me. They half-stepped me for about a mile and
then passed me, but I settled in right behind them, trying to take advantage of
their draft. After another mile or so, a
tall, Vibram-shod runner named John closed in on us and began to orbit our
trio. We formed a third pack, so to
speak. Each of us took turns at the
lead, blocking the wind and letting the others conserve energy in the slipstream. The double-out-and-back section of this
greenway allowed us to maintain even splits.
I reached mile 3 at 20 minutes and mile 6 at just under 40 minutes, so I
was averaging just under a 6:40 pace.
This would have been my target pace for a Half, so I figured I was doing
alright—even for the ambiguously shorter distance—given the wind and the
conditions.
At mile 7, shortly before leaving the greenway, we could see
that the chase pack ahead of us was beginning to falter and disintegrate. The waiting game was playing out. We crossed a short wooden bridge and closed
the distance just as we reached the base of a long, steep hill leading back to
the main roads. Everyone’s pace slowed
on the hill, and a chase group reformed, only now it was larger, and I was part
of it. Running en masse were Hernan,
John, Ken, Ken’s friend, and a couple of other original chasers I’ll refer to
as Joe and Mr. Hoka. The hill was tough,
and everyone was working hard and breathing heavily, but I felt relatively good
compared to others around me.
When we reached the top, I could not see Mr. Hoka with us
anymore. One down. Here, we had a decent downhill on which to
catch our breath. From the warm-up run,
I knew there was another climb approaching, so I resisted the urge to bomb the
downhill. After said climb was an even
longer and steeper downhill, so I saved my breath on the hill, and 5 of us let
loose on the big descent. Ken’s friend could
not keep up with our rapid descent. Two
down. When we got to the bottom, Hernan
pushed the pace a bit, so John and Joe settled in behind him. I let them have a few meters and remained
content to follow. I could not see Ken,
but I knew he was there without having to look for him.
We passed within 50 feet of the finish before turning what
would be our last 3+ miles. A different
stretch of greenway allowed the group to reform, albeit in a more single-file
fashion. We passed runners from the
event’s companion 5k, and often these runners were the only indication of where
we should be going. At the mile 9 mark, we ran straight up a
gravel hill in Washington Park that nearly reduced our group to a walk. When we got to the top and hit the asphalt
again, it was tough to get the legs to turn over at race pace again. The road kept going up…
…And up. There were
no course markings, so we had to follow the blinking lights of whichever
traffic control officers we could see in the distance. By the time we made a ¾ mile loop back around
to Washington Park, we were a bit spent.
Running down the gravel hill from before was a bit jarring. From then on, we had little over a mile left,
and most of it was on flat greenway. The
group was still tight. Joe, Hernan,
John, Ken, and I were still within a radius of mere meters. Knowing the end was near, we all tacitly
picked up the pace. Joe kept running
hard, but he did not appear to have the energy for an endgame move. Moments later, he faded back. Three down.
A quarter-mile from the finish, we could see our destination, and the
pace quickened yet again.
The rest of the race was like the bell lap of a
long-distance track event. Everyone was
waiting to see who would make the first move.
200 meters out, I surged, but not for the kill; I was trying to provoke
one of the others into committing too early.
Hernan took the cue and shot out ahead while John stayed on my shoulder. Ken had had enough of this game and let the three
of us go. Four down. I kept pushing and closed in on Hernan. With 30 meters left, I made my last move and
jumped out ahead of him. Hernan was
tenacious, though, and he let out one more explosive kick to pass me again
within 15 meters of the finish. John was
still right there and threatening! I
didn’t have enough space to retaliate to Hernan’s final sprint, but I could keep
John at bay…
In overall ranking order, Hernan finished 7th, I
finished 8th, and John finished 9th, all within the
narrow span of 1.5 seconds! Ken crossed
the line a mere 5 seconds later to round out the top 10. We greeted each other with vigorous
high-fives and congratulatory hugs. We
had dug hard the whole way and stayed tightly competitive down the wire. The satisfaction of that finish was worth the
debacle that was the rest of the event.
Some of my training buddies wonder why I race so much. It’s for moments like these. By the way, my 8th place overall
earned my 2nd place in my age group for the 2nd time in
as many days.
 |
| From left: John (9th overall, 2nd age group), Me (8th overall, 2nd age group), and Hernan (7th overall, 1st age group). We all finished within the same span of 1.5 seconds. |
The Garmin-measured distance for the weather-shortened City
of Arts Half-Marathon was 10.87 miles, which was nowhere close to the previously
predicted 15k or 12.5 miles. My time was
1:12:34, which works out at a 6:40 average pace. Considering the difficulty on the back end of
the course and the demoralizing wind and weather, I’ll take it. Maybe next weekend, my Half will be more like
a Half… Until then, Run Reckless!
 |
| 8th overall, 2nd age group, and a bit chilly. |
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