It’s my Day

Even though it feels longer, my last race was less than 10 weeks ago, on New Year’s Day. On that day I managed to surprise myself by posting my first ever sub-20 5k, lowing my PR (itself only a few weeks old) by nearly one minute. It was a bit of a milestone, but of course to many runners the standard for being good is a sub-40 10k. I had never run a 10k before, and anyway, sub-40, while being there on the horizon, was still a long way away.

I have run a lot of miles in those 10 weeks, but nearly all of them at relatively slow pace, with hardly any speedwork. The training for the ultra had taken over, especially with those 20-20 double headers, which left no room for fast running. It was only in the last week that I added tempo runs to my training repertoire again. According to McMillan, a 19:52 5k translates to a 41:16 10k; accordingly, my target time for today was 41:00. I did dream of a sub-40, but since it was so much better that anything I’ve ever managed, I didn’t mention it to anyone, especially not on my blog.

It was a pretty miserable day, rainy and windy from the start, just as predicted by the weathermen. I left home at 11am – in fact it was the first time in ages when I didn’t get up early for my run, which was nice, truth to be told. The 65 miles drive to Adare was unremarkable, but once there I had a hard time to find the race HQ. I eventually parked the car and started walking. Adare isn’t very big, and I soon spotted a few runners and followed them to the registration building. (Note to the organisers: a sign would have been nice). After signing up, getting a t-shirt (as if I really needed yet another one) and getting changed I still had about 30 minutes to get warmed up. One look out of the door changed my mind, but the rain didn’t let up and with 20 minutes to go I started warming up. Is it still called warming up if it’s in the cold outside? The runners did gather around the starting line with a couple of minutes to spare, but there was a delay of about 10 minutes until we finally got going. The organiser did hold a speech while we huddled like penguins in the freezing rain, and eventually he relented and gave the signal to start.

For once I started very close to the starting line, but everyone around me set off at a furious pace. There were a few speed demons amongst us, but it wasn’t only them to take off like that, half the field seemed to stream past me. I did my best to ignore them and set my own pace. It’s the same in every race. I start slowly, and from about a third into the race I start picking off my victims. I expected this to happen again, but the fact is that I started overtaking after less than 2 minutes. A few of the runners were already breathing very heavily at that stage. What makes those people set off like that? Anyway, I felt comfortable, so much so that I did indeed question my pace. “It’s not hurting, shouldn't each mile in a 10k hurt?” However, I did pass the 1-mile marker in 6:27, which was reassuring. It was exactly the pace I had been planning. The next mile was into a fairly strong headwind, as well as mostly uphill, and I tried to draft as much as I could. It never lasted long, as soon as I settled right behind someone, the pace felt too slow, I went past, and the game started again with the next guy. Mile 2 went by in 6:31, considering the wind and the terrain I was happy with it. The next mile wasn’t as much into the wind, but even more uphill. I still picked up runner after runner, and then the biggest hill of all awaited. This was hard work, and the HR went up to around 185. It was at that stage that I noticed that the course seemed rather sparsely populated. There were three guys far ahead of me, and then so much of a gap in front of them that I couldn’t see anyone else. I guessed that I would spend most of the rest battling with those guys. We crested the hill shortly before the 3-mile mark, where a girl stood shouting encouragement “well done guys, the worst is behind you.” I had to laugh, we’re not even halfway and I expected worse things yet to come. Anyway, mile 3 went by in 6:28, which felt fast considering that hill. There was a bend in the road further on which I decided must be the half-way point, and I checked my watch.19:54. Hmm. Less than 20 minutes, I feel very strong, and the second half is bound to be downhill. Could it really be? I put those thoughts to the back of my mind and started hunting down my prey. By now I had closed the gap, one guy seemed to slow down, and by I went. I chased after the next one, and half a mile later I was ahead. By now one more runner from further ahead must have slowed down, and he fell victim before the 4 mile marker, which came in 6:23, the fastest mile yet. The last guy from that group turned out to be a much tougher opponent than the previous victims, and we spent the next mile battling for position. I surged to draw level, he responded to pull away again. On the next slight uphill I surged again, got right behind him, and once more he responded with a surge of his own. But I noticed he was turning his head to look behind, which I took as a sign of weakness. “He’s obviously worried about me. Let’s prove him right”. It was all the encouragement I needed, one strong surge and he was history. I have to admit he was very gracious in defeat. “Good man” he said as I went by. Honestly, there is no way I would have been as good a sport as that in his position. That battle had brought me to the 5 mile marker in 6:17 and I still felt great. One more guy appeared in front who had slowed down dramatically, and from there on I seemed to be on my own. We were now back in Adare, and with about half a mile to go I gave it all I got. Amazingly, mile 6 passed in 6:12, which is definitely the fastest mile I have ever run in my life. For the last bit I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to run on the road or the pavement. The pavement was slippery and I opted for the road. A car hooted at me. Was that supposed to be encouragement, or was he pissed off with me for being on the road? If so, then I didn’t give a damn. I was sprinting all out and finished the last .2 miles in 1:07 to finish in 39:27. I was ecstatic. I did calm down in time to congratulate my rival from the fifth mile, who was pleased with his time as well “not bad for a 49-year old”. But to me, it’s still my day.

I cool down, then go to the car to get changed. The second I close the boot (trunk to Americans) I go “sh*t, I just locked in my car keys!!!!” In desperation I go through my bag – there they are. Thank goodness for that! Being stranded in the pouring rain 65 miles from home would have put a dampener on my time. But it’s my day.

I go back to the racing HQ for some very welcome tea, biscuits and sandwiches, and then they start giving out prizes to runners randomly drawn from the list. And would you believe it, my name comes up, though I do get some ripping for my surname. I get a nice looking scarf for Niamh. It really is my day.

There’s a lesson in that race report: if you’re ahead, never look back. The encouragement I got from that was priceless.

Weekly mileage: 73.3 miles

11 Mar: 10 miles, including the Adare 10k in 39:27, 6:21 pace, avg. HR 178