“Sometimes when you win, you really lose, and sometimes when you lose, you really win, and sometimes when you win or lose, you actually tie, and sometimes when you tie, you actually win or lose. Winning or losing is all one organic mechanism, from which one extracts what one needs.” – Gloria, White Men Can’t Jump
Don’t call it a comeback. Wait, I don’t know what else to call it. For my first race in the last seven months, and only the second time I’ve pinned a bib to my shirt in the last sixteen months or so, I went shorter. After a lengthy hiatus of half-assed training or none, September 1st marked a new chapter in running again in order to lose my sympathetic baby weight. Twenty-three days later, I was ready to race! Or maybe not ready, but everything about this race said that I had to run it. To wit: the race was named the Teddy Bear 5k, and all finishers would be given Teddy Bears. My three-month old son is baby Teddy, and the bear would be a much more useful gift to him than a cheesy medal. The race was raising funds for a child learning center that Sai wants to possibly enroll Teddy into for pre-K care, so why not support them with a little run? The race started and finished two blocks from my house. It was my home course. So, other than the fact that I still felt fat and out of shape, and the run was at 3:30 in the afternoon on an unseasonably hot (inconveniently true) day, and that I’d have to skip the better part of the second half of the Eagles-Giants game, I decided to do it. A 5k for Teddy.
First, the excuses. As I said already, I am just getting back to running after not running for the better part of the previous six months. The daily runs I’ve done so far in September (not skipping a day) have generally been pretty slow. During one of my early morning runs last week, a heavy-set guy flew past me like I was standing still. It was quite humbling. Most of my runs have been in the 8 – 9 minutes per mile pace range (even slower for the few trail runs I’ve done), and none totaled more than six miles.
To test my speed for the Sunday run, I hit the gym on Saturday (first time I’d been there in a couple of months) to tread the mill for a few fast miles. The plan was to do a two-mile warmup averaging 7:30 / mile, then two fast miles at around 6:00 / mile, then a cool down two at the warmup pace, to total 6 miles in 42 minutes. Warmup went according to plan, but the legs struggled to transition to fast right away, and I passed mile three around 11 seconds over. The next half was run slightly ahead of six minute pace, but by then I was toast, so I coasted the next 2.5 miles instead. Still, the fast twitch muscles responded well enough to tell me that I should try to push in the Sunday race, rather than just running for completion.
Sunday afternoon, I warmed up with a running of the course. Even though it was in my neighborhood, the out and back route was not one of my regular routines, so I wanted to know all the hills and turns. And it was a hot warmup. I was dripping wet after the 26 minute effort, my feet were sore, and my quads felt like I had pushed them too much the day before (maybe a speed workout at my max training distance the day before wasn’t the best idea, but I blame my idiot coach for this oversight).
But twenty minutes later, in a clean tee and with the ultralight racing flats on my feet, I was ready for another round. I scoped the competition to see who was there for the family fun run, and who was there to compete. Definitely more of the former in the park, waiting for the start. There were 110 people in total, with perhaps 10% of that number looking like racers (then again, the fat guy that flew past me on my training run a few days prior didn’t look like he’d be that fast either, so who was I to judge?). I thought again about just running for the bear, not pushing too hard because I’m a wimp and it was hot, but with the number pinned on, racing flats laced up, and a foolish tendency to go out way too fast, knew that it was unlikely I’d take it easy once the gun went off.
A couple of parents crowded the narrow start with their prepubescent kids right on the line. A high school aged runner held the last spot at the timing mat, with me and a couple of older guys (who looked like racers) lined up just behind. The race started, I darted to the side and around the kids rather than trampling them, and within the first 100 meters, I was in the lead. By the first turn out of the first park and onto Griffith Street, I was alone, pushing the pace like it was a mile run. A half mile later, I cut through the next park, still in front, down Hillside, left onto Friden, and passed the mile (assumed distance, no course markings that I could see) just before entering the third park. The aid station attendant was startled by my presence, saying “didn’t the race start like a minute ago?” No, closer to eight minutes, I informed her, after a quick glance at my watch. So for those keeping track, my mile effort push won me the one mile race, but there were still a couple more to go. Outside the other end of the park, we pushed up Olney to the turnaround point, where I watched the race organizers arguing with a driver trying to speed down the street (there were cones down the center of the roadways, but no actual road closures), before I turned around to see how close the competition was behind me. There was a 50 something guy in yellow maybe 10 seconds back, and a young speedy guy with a jogging stroller just behind him! Both looked strong and like they hadn’t taken the race out like a bat out of hell, so I expected them to work to run me down to pay for my foolish start.
At this point, I was counting down. If I could get back through that third park, I’d have held the lead for a solid two miles. Two out of three aint bad, I told myself. Then, I pushed up the hill on Friden before making the turn to park two, knowing that if I cleared here, I’d have held it for 2.5 miles or so. Each time I passed a course marshal, I’d smile or give the thumbs up, but what I really wanted from them was an update on how safe my lead was. I’d listen for them to cheer the next runner behind, but it was not a conclusive way to determine the distance of separation or the closing speed of the chasers. Still, I was determined not to turn around and look. That would be a sign of weakness.
Out of the second park, all that separate me from the finish were a few blocks on Griffith, then the final turn to the original park with the waiting finish line. By this time, I was feeling more confident, and tried to keep pressing the pace just in case someone behind me had a notion of outkicking me.
When I entered the park, I saw the finish line beckoning, with a tape stretched out for me to break! A rare honor, I raised my arms in triumph as I crossed the line, before stopping my watch at 21:11. Not exactly blazing speed, but fast enough to finish first on a hot day. They handed me Teddy’s bear, I grabbed my knees, and looked up to see the jogging stroller dad come cruising in around twenty seconds behind. I congratulated him, but told him he only nabbed third, as his little girl crossed the line before him. Old Yellow came in maybe thirty seconds back of the dad, with quite a bit of separation before the rest of the field.
After a few delicious cups of ice water, I headed home to deliver Teddy his new (sweaty) toy, caught the awesome ending of the Eagles game (a 61 yard field goal to win it as time expired!), changed out of the racing flats, and headed over to the awards ceremony, for my moment of glory!
Okay, so it was a really small local race, and I was able to lead from start to finish. Not much drama to speak of. Considering the closest competition was handicapped by having to push his daughter the whole way (though it’s possible he could have hopped on and let gravity carry them both down the hills), it may not have been that impressive. But I’m getting to the interesting part.
After standing around baking in the sun for twenty-five minutes, they finally started the awards ceremony. They had age groups for kids from two year blocks up through 17, before jumping to the adult divisions, which were blocked more broadly in decade divisions (20-29, 30-39, 40-49, etc.). My first sign that something was amiss was when they announced the winner of the 30-39 age group as the fastest overall, and brought the jogging stroller dad up to collect. They said he’d run 21:08. I was a little confused as to how this guy who trailed me the whole way was faster than me.
Second sign of trouble was when they announced someone else for winning the 40-49 division. I knew I’d soundly beaten that guy.
They proceeded through the older divisions, before again bringing j.s. dad back to collect his overall award (duplicate awards were given, as he also won for the fastest in the stroller division).
A lady standing next to me asked what was going on, as she said she’d witnessed me winning the race. I shook my head in bewilderment, and told her I was wondering the same thing. She then approached the announcers, and pointed me out to them. They called me up, asked for my information, and said they’d send me my prizes once they figured things out. J.S. dad then came forward and handed me the first prize envelope, finally acknowledging that he had not beaten me (why he hadn’t come forward until this point is a question I also wondered, but better late than never). I told him his effort was more impressive than mine, but I still collected the $100 gift card to Potomac River Running Shop and took off for home. No idea what prize I missed for my age group, but at least I got something for the effort.
So, my question to you: If jogging stroller dad really did clock a 21:08 on his chip time, and my 21:11 +/- was accurate, then he technically ran faster than me, even though he started behind and finished behind. Should that qualify him for a first place award? And before you go defending him for pushing extra weight, remember that I am still carrying around a dozen extra pounds from Sai’s pregnancy, and I’ve only been training for the last three weeks, so we all have our handicaps. Perhaps next year, I’ll train better, and maybe by then Teddy will be along for the ride, so we can have a true head to head (stroller to stroller) challenge. For now, I’ll take the W.
It’s good to be back to racing!
Traipse Reports - Trips and Races 