Winter Series #3

After a solid week of training and a weekend off from racing, I felt fresh and confident coming into this Saturday’s 10-mile Winter Series #3. This is in stark contrast to my usual smelly and awkward self, and when I found out that Alex Nichols (the local stud who’s been winning these races) would be racing elsewhere, well, you could say I was able to experience that elusive trait that most humans have called ‘self-esteem.’ While this would be my longest race since the Ascent last August, it was also relatively flat, and I figured I could come away with a podium finish.

(Obama 'Not Bad' meme)

Waking up race morning, I nearly kissed my iPhone when my weather app told me it would be mid-60s and sunny all day. I downed way too much coffee, took care of business (a euphemism for ‘clearing the pipes’)(if you’re not sure, that means I pooped), and drove down to the El Pomar Youth Sports Park. I jogged a slow 10 minutes, stretched, hit up the port-o-potty a total of three times, then anxiously walked around like a crackhead during the worst part of any race: waiting for it to start.

Finally, the race officials called 5 minutes, and I trotted over to the starting area, finding a spot right up front. Like, as front and center as you can get. I saw Alistair (semi-pro triathlete who beat me last race), and we chatted about pacing: his plan was sub-6s, while I was hoping to start at 6:30, then negative split my way down to low 6s, hopefully.

In first, like a dingus

But of course, when the starting gun went off, I was that idiot sprinting into first at quite nearly my 400m PR pace. Here’s some video footage of me being a total idiot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pubrl5QKFD8

Because I was so jacked up on adrenaline at this point, I had no idea I was running 5:15 pace until Alistair gave me a little nudge (SAM WTF SLOW DOWN NOOB), and two other runners caught us by the mile marker, right at 6 flat. The four of us chilled in this front pack through 2 miles, when it dawned on me: dufuq am I doing? It was clear I wasn’t going to win this race, and was already 45 seconds ahead of my planned pace, so I eased up and let Alistair take off, followed by another runner (who I learned post-race is named Matthieu). I focused on staying relaxed – because this race was an out-and-back, I knew the real racing wouldn’t start until after the turnaround, and was content to sit 20 seconds behind Matthieu as we rolled through miles 3 and 4.

Soon, as we approached the turnaround, Alistair came flying towards us, looking like he was taking an afternoon stroll, but within a minute, Matthieu and I hit the turnaround. Either I slowed down here, or Matthieu put on a surge (let’s be honest - probably both), because he was soon a good 30-40 seconds ahead of me, almost out of view. But, because we were now heading backwards on the course, I was passing runners still heading out, and the fact that multiple people used their valuable oxygen to cheer me on was a big boost (plus, there were a ridiculous number of hot chicks racing. The best motivation there is).

From miles 6-9, Matthieu and I played a weird accordion game where I’d close within 10 seconds, then he’d open it to 30. I had put a big surge in at mile 8, convincing myself that “only 2 more miles of racing was nothing!” This was stupid. I found myself within 5-10 seconds of Matthieu right before the 9-mile marker, and then it hit me: I still have another 5,280 feet of racing left. And believe me, I felt every inch. Throughout the first couple miles of the race, I couldn’t help but imagine how I’d throw down a sick 5-flat mile, closing hard for the win. But now that I was in the moment, all I wanted to do was slow down, or walk, or stop and take a nap. Literally anything but keep racing.

But, the fact that I could still see Matthieu up ahead kept me pushing. In fact, it was around a half-mile to go when (cue fangirl squeals) Peter Maksimow and Simon Gutierez, who had finished the 5-mile race, cheered me on during their cooldown. I knew my form was the picture-perfect antonym for flawless (flawfull?), and I’d started doing that oh-so attractive grunting thing with each exhale. But the finish was so close!

Quadzilla, on the hunt

Unfortunately, the finish was a long 300m straightaway that resembled the Serpent Road from Dragonball Z (fellow nerds know what I’m talking about, but if you’re not a total geek, this is essentially a never-ending road). Finally, with the end in sight and a large clock showing 1:01:40, I crossed the line, completely and utterly spent.

Maybe because it was the distance, or I pushed myself more than I have in recent memory, but I very nearly fell over the line, soon collapsing in the grass field nearby. It took awhile to get my feet under me, but it was fun chatting with Alistair, who easily took 1^st place, and Matthieu (a competitive half-miler from Texas), in addition to some other runners. Having beat both my B-goal (sub 65) and A-goal (sub 62:30), averaging 6:10 for 10 miles here in Colorado was easily my best effort to date.

 I’ve now got two weeks to get a bit more fit before the last race in the series, a supposedly hilly 20K February 28^th!

Gameday 5K

Due to a down week between races in the Winter Series, and because my social life is non-existent, I opted to race the Gameday 5K this past Sunday in downtown Colorado Springs on a whim. There’s absolutely no reason why I should’ve expected a decent race, as my training is limited to short 30-minute runs in the morning before school, with nothing that can be remotely close to being considered “fast.” But, I’d raced a surprisingly-respectable 8-miler at last weekend’s Winter Series #2, and I was curious as to what that could translate to on terrain that wasn’t undulating and icy mountain trail.

Waking Sunday morn, I made the slow jog over to the race as my warmup, about 2.5 miles from my house. Flabbergasted upon arriving at the race scene, I would soon discover there would be close to 600 racers in the 5K alone (another 500ish in the half-marathon that would also be racing).

A couple minutes of terrified hyperventilating later (to this day, cannot race without an initial anxiety attack), I ran some quick strides, then hopped on the starting line. It was sunny, but still pretty chilly – probably no warmer than 30 degrees, we were lucky that there was hardly any wind. Trying to not be a total idiot, I decided to race clothed this time around, sticking to some shorts, tee-shirt, and gloves (also, some sick shades to hide my deer-in-the-headlights look). I also opted to race in my Hoka One One Cliftons, as I’d been feeling pretty great in them recently, and finally had to chance to use the road shoe on … well, some roads.

Because this was my first road race since my collegiate days, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I had no idea how I’d react to some back-to-back sub-6 miles, as: 1. I hadn’t run that fast since June, and 2. I’d NEVER run that fast at 6K ft. of elevation. But I came in with a goal of going sub-18, which would equal roughly 5:50 pace per mile, and based on last week’s performance, something I figured I’d be able to manage. Maybe. Hopefully. We’d see.

The whistle blew, and we were off, me quickly finding myself in ~6^th place. Two runners nearly sprinted to the lead, and I was happy to let them go, telling myself to relax this first mile, then negative split as long as I felt good. We started down a relatively steep downhill, and within a quarter mile were we onto a packed dirt trail, three of us running in a pack, chasing three runners ahead. I chilled the first mile, taking the lead of our chase pack but making sure to relax until we hit the first mile: 5:40ish. A tad faster than I had wanted, I took stock and felt pretty good, so decided to leave my pack and start bridging the gap to the 3^rd place runner. The two leaders were already at least 40 seconds ahead, but 3^rd place was within 20 seconds, and I could tell I was slowly gaining.

(Getting my kicks off beating high schoolers)

The race was an out-and-back, and as I neared the turnaround cone, I saw first and second come blazing by me, probably with ~a minute lead on me. But, I was able to catch 3^rd place right at the turnaround, relatively close to the two-mile marker, and decided to throw down. Used to longer races, the fact that I only had 1 more mile was a relief, and making sure I had nothing left, I opened my stride and really started pushing. Plus, the fact that I was currently in 3^rd place (podium!) was pretty motivating, as well as passing the rest of the runners still making their way out (hearing a couple Go Mr. Welch! means at least a few of my students saw my atrocious form).

(Sucking wind, hard)

I checked my GPS watch a couple times that last mile, and surprised myself when I regularly found myself running 5:30ish pace. It was around 2.6 miles when things started hurting, and I probably checked the distance left on my watch every 0.1 miles until the finish. Soon though, it was in sight, and I threw in one last kick, finishing down the last straightaway with the clock in sight, ticking up to 17:45, 46, 47…

Even the race officials are amazed I managed to finish with THAT kind of form...

My official time was 17:48, a 5:46/mile average, and good enough for 3^rd place overall. To be quite honest, I was ecstatic with my time, despite finishing ~a minute behind 2^nd and 1:20 behind 1^st (uff da). But this race marked my first “fast” (in quotes for a reason) effort here in Colorado, and the fact that I was awarded 3^rd place up at the award ceremony was a pretty cool experience. Obviously, there’s still a lot of work to do, but my first month of real (regular) training is starting to pay off. The Winter Series #3 race isn’t until February 14^th, which means I’ve got a little less than two weeks to put in some solid training before a trail 10-miler with some stiff competition!