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!