 |
| *Fire Emoji* |
When Mark, owner of Fleet Feet Brookfield, asked me if I
wanted to join the Fleet Feet Racing Team in their attempt for the dub at the
Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay, I blindly yet eagerly accepted.
My ignorant enthusiasm quickly turned to apprehension, then
to dread, as it soon dawned on me what we would be attempting. I hadn’t run on
an indoor track since my IWU days, and those weren’t necessarily pleasant
memories. On top of that, we’d be attempting a pace that I’d normally struggle
to maintain for 2 miles; with 4 of us going for 26.2, that would mean I’d
likely expect to run a total of 6ish miles at that pace. Woof.
~
The morning of the Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay had me
up well before dawn, as technically I was also working this event (did I mention
I have the coolest job in the world?). Chugging coffee, fitting runners in
Hokas, drinking coffee, selling shoes, sipping coffee, chatting with runners,
and downing some more coffee, I spent the better part of the morning fulfilling
my duties as local HOKA ONE ONE tech rep while internally fReAkInG oUt about my
impending doom, drowning that fear with probably-way-too-much coffee.
I had no idea who the other 3 members of my team were, only
that their running accolades far exceeded what paltry times I’ve been able to
jog recently. Mark had alluded to how fast these other guys were, casually
mentioning PRs that made it seem like I’ve been running with a peg leg my whole
life. There were no delusions as to who the weakest link was on this team; it
was only my goal to not embarrass the rest of my team too much.
About 30 minutes before the start of the race, the rest of
the Fleet Feet Racing Team showed up, consisting of Martin, Tim, and Jake. And
while they would certainly live up to/surpass their projected potentials, they
were also the nicest bunch of dudes to run with, making the whole race
infinitely better than what it could have been. But I digress from the suckage
that was to come.
Because the race was to take place around an indoor ice
skating rink, it was downright chilly on the track. After a brief 5 minutes of
warmup in jackets/gloves, we sat down to discuss our gameplan. The nature of a
marathon relay is pretty unique: with 4 runners, we can determine how far/often
we “handoff” to a teammate, until 26.2 miles are completed. We were running on
a track larger than your traditional outdoor track – 3.75 laps to the mile, but
with only 3 lanes. And a “handoff” to a teammate consisted of coming to a
complete stop off the side of the track, taking off your ankle sensor, and
strapping it onto the ankle of your next teammate. So in an ideal and perfect
handoff, you’re losing 5-6 seconds to transition. More often than not, though,
10-12 seconds would be wasted fumbling with this Velcro straps, trying to
remain calm yet be as efficient as possible.
Martin was volunteered by the rest of us to start, and the
tentative plan going in was for him and me to switch off every 4 laps for the
first 13ish miles, then have Tim and Jake finish off the last 13ish. This way,
we wouldn’t become too cold waiting between reps, taking 5ish minutes between
each session, and the race would end up looking more like a mile repeat workout
than anything. However, spoiler alert: this plan went out the window within the
first 15 minutes.
With 95 teams running on this 3-lane track, the start was
jam-packed, but when the starting gun went off, Martin jumped into the lead,
pulling away from nearly everyone within the first lap. This of course
terrified me, because I would be following Martin, and would someone have to
keep our lead. So, after 4 laps, we made our awkward exchange, and I was off!
 |
| Racing in a T-shirt? Whaaa? |
Maybe it was the adrenaline, the fear of disappointing my
teammates, the number of runners jogging around the track, or the inhuman
amount of coffee I consumed over the course of that morning, but I took off
sprinting that first lap. It’s hard to judge your pace when you’re literally
passing everyone and vibrating with
caffeine, but I definitely did what my teammate Tim told me not to do, which
was go out too fast. 26.2 miles is a long ways to go, and although I was
undoubtedly the weakest leg on the team, I was still a leg, and you need those
to run well. I definitely started feeling it the last lap of my rep, realizing
I probably pushed it a bit too much for my first mile(ish), so when Martin came
by 4 laps later, I was kindly encouraged to just run 3 laps, which made a world
of difference.
Martin and I switched off for the first 30ish minutes – with
95 laps to the ‘thon, I quickly lost count of how far we were, and simply
focused on running fast. Thankfully, our sensor kept track of how many laps
we’d completed, and we soon learned who our main competitors were, simply based
on who else was running as fast as we were. Performance Running Outfitters
(PRO) was not too far behind us, followed closely by Berkeley Running Company,
and we made it our mission to maintain our lead over them. It became an
interesting game, noting when and how often the other teams rotated their
runners, and frankly, it helped pass the time while staying competitive.
Probably 45 minutes in, we started to slowly introduce our
other two runners, Tim and Jake. They were probably the fastest runners on the
whole track, and throwing them into the mix really solidified our 1st-place
standing. The initial goal was to win – taking the dub last year meant running
a ~2:18, or about 5:15 pace/mile. However, when Tim and Jake started throwing
down some nasty (in a good way) splits, there became talk of going for a course
record. While one of us was running, the rest of us were looking up results
from previous years on an iPhone, and the fastest time we could find was a
2:12. And based on how fast we were running, it looked like it may be doable.
Again, it was a weird way to race, and I know I definitely
lost track of time. However, Martin and I were quickly becoming fatigued, and
Tim and Jake’s segments lengthened, while Martin and I started throwing in some
2- and 1-lap legs. I really enjoyed these, blasting them as fast as I could go,
dodging and weaving through the other runners. At some point I must’ve been
spiked by another runner, because I remember finishing a rep and looking down,
only to find blood trailing down my calf.
But the adrenaline was pumping, and we were nearing the finish.
We’d lapped both PRO and Berkeley Running Company, so now it was more a race
against time, and Tim was sure we could run a sub-2:10. As the race announcer
started counting down our laps for us on the arena speaker, we soon found
ourselves with 8 laps to go, and agreed we’d all just start sprinting 1-lap
reps until the finish.
For some reason, we had some trouble doing some very simple math – we’d wanted Martin to
be the finishing leg of the race, considering he’d put in the most work and
deserved a bit of the recognition. I was meant to go before him, but upon
getting my ankle sensor strapped on, the announcer’s voice boomed across the
loudspeaker: AND THE FLEET FEET RACING TEAM
IS ON THEIR LAST LAP! Uh oh.
I threw down everything I had, pumped up by the cheers from
other teams along the way, and gritting my teeth through the lactic acid,
sprinted across the finish line (in some downright terrible form, I must add).
But, we finished in a record-setting time of 2:09:33, three minutes faster than
the previous record and nearly 5 minutes faster than second place. What's crazy to think about post-race, though, is that we ended up averaging 4:57 pace over those 95 laps. Accounting for 5-10 seconds of "transition" time, we ended up running significantly faster than I ever would've expected (again, all thanks to a baller team).
Totally spent, we begrudgingly limped our way onto the
podium and grimaced for some photos with our medals and the 1st
place trophy, something that gets to stay with Fleet Feet Brookfield until next
year’s race (spoiler alert: we’re planning on keeping it there. Can you say
sub-2 for next year?). We all laughed at the notion of a cooldown, instead flopping
onto the floor and devouring a few-too-many cookies.
I’m writing this recap 4 days post-race, and my calves are
still sore. Turns out, racing on an indoor track for the first time since
college can really mess you up. But confidence is still high as I start my
taper for LA, now just 10+ days away!
