Some people would argue that running is for losers, because otherwise we would be playing real sports. I often argue that most people suck, so those some people probably fall into that category. By their logic or by Ricky Bobby’s, I came in either second loser or first L in this year’s Teddy Bear 5k, while others might just see it as second place overall.
As for me, I see it as the biggest 5k disappointment since Pre’s ’72 Olympics final (no matter how many times I rewatch Prefontaine or Without Limits, I still can’t believe he doesn’t pull it off). It was the worst crash and burn since Pre’s 1975 last drive… Sorry, too harsh. Okay, I’m being overly dramatic about an extremely local 5k (113 entries), but damnit, I wanted to win it!
Prior to the gun, I spotted two legit looking runners near the starting line (no offense to the rest, but the results pretty much supported this perspective, as the three of us would claim the podium positions with over two minutes to spare before Pre’s fourth spot rolled through). Knowing that I have a solid base (this was day 121 of my current streak of running, minimum five miles per day), but that I am also getting older and slower, I figured my best bet was to take it out from the start and hope that no one would bother to go with me.
Instead, some punk ass kid flew past me after the gun, racing to the lead seconds in. Where the hell did he come from? The 1k fun run wasn’t for another hour, and this young ‘un seemed more for that age bracket than this open field. Less than half a mile in, I think he realized his folly (only fools go out too fast), and I was alone in the lead (fool that I am).
Two years ago, I led this race wire to wire, although there was some dispute about a guy with a stroller nabbing a faster chip time behind me. Last year, I was out of town and missed the run, but my proxy informed me that the course was unmarked and everyone missed the turnaround. This year, I had the privilege of a personal escort, as a guy on a bike led the way. Not that I needed it, because I know this course like the back of my neighborhood, but it was kind of fun to chase the bicyclist, even if he did make the ride look effortless while I huffed and puffed.
They also had mile markers on the course this year, which was a nice addition. I registered 5:47 for the first mile, which was a good clip for me. At the turn (which I did not overshoot like my failed proxy and company from a year before), I saw the other two legit-looking runners trailing only a few seconds behind. Where that idiot kid from the beginning of the race was, I couldn’t say. My guess was back barfing on the side of the road somewhere. But I didn’t give it too much thought, because I had a bike to catch or race to win or something. Two miles came and went in 11:51, signifying a slight drop-off in pace, but not too terrible. I still felt strong, pushing up the last uphill climb (not big hills, but it’s all relative).
2.5 miles in, I was definitely feeling tired, but I continued my pursuit of the finish line. Don’t dare look back, as that’s a sign of weakness… I listened for signs of the chasers but couldn’t hear them over the blood hammering in my ears and my own heavy breathing (I was pretty excited). Just before the 3 mile mark, my guide mentioned that someone was approaching, and I finally heard the dreaded footsteps. (Why didn’t he warn me sooner? I’ll never know, so I’ll just curse him as a jerkstore). I picked up the pace briefly, managing to edge out the other guy to the three mile marker (18:35 – definitely dropped off a lot in the last mile, opening things up for him to catch me), but for some reason the race did not end there.
Stupid metric system! 5k = 3.1 miles, and that 0.1 miles made all the difference. Dude ran past me right after the marker, and showed that he had more left in the tank than I did, so I watched him go on, onto the glory that is the Teddy Bear 5k Championship. I coasted in some nine seconds back, 19:22, deflated and defeated.
It sucks when younger legs have more spring in them than yours. It sucks worse when you find out later that the guy was actually four years older.
Did I go out too fast? Of course I did. But I tried (and failed), and therein lies a lesson that I’ll never learn.
Traipse Reports - Trips and Races 