RACE REVIEW:BAA 10K

"we are all made for every moment we encounter. 

whether the moment  makes us or we make the moment. 

whether we are helpless in it or on top of it, 

the predator or the prey. 

we are made for that moment."

~ Matthew McConaughey, 'Greenlights'

Last week we took the Lex kids to Oregon to compete at Nike Outdoor Nationals.  We were out there for almost a week and it was an absolutely epic trip; mainly because every single one of them competed to the best of their ability and/or beyond.  Which is all you can hope for as a coach.  That and that the kids have fun while they're doing it, which I think I can safely say they all did.

We flew home on the redeye this past Monday and I promptly went to bed for 48 hours to catch up on all the sleep I'd lost over the past five days.  Just kidding.  I went for a run and to the grocery store and then tried to keep myself busy so I could stay awake until 8pm.  For real, though, I haven't been that tired in quite some time and by Tuesday I was feeling it.  My running was garbage.  I was shuffling along with heavy legs and even heavier lids.  Normally, this isn't a big deal.  I just take a week to bounce back and then jump back into my training full speed.  But I didn't have that luxury because I was signed up for the BAA 10K on Sunday and I intended to race regardless of how I felt.  Or, at least, I thought I did.  By Saturday, I wasn't so sure.  I reached out to my coach, Ruben, and let him know that I'd been having a tough week.  Maybe it was because I hadn't been able to recover post Oregon, or maybe because I hadn't fully recovered from my entire, very long and intense spring track season in general or maybe it was because I'm 47 and I'm freaking tired.  Regardless, Ruben was concerned and wondered if perhaps I should bail all together given the situation but that was not an option.  I was signed up.  I'd paid.  I was racing.  And he understood.  So we came up with a new race plan with a pace strategy that would likely make for a more successful race and while I was bummed because I'd hoped to run hard and test my fitness, I was also relieved as the pressure to perform was not quite as high anymore.  As always, I laid out my kit and went to bed very early (yes, even earlier than usual) knowing that one more sleep could only do my head and body good.    

Even though it was late June, typical summer weather hadn't really hit us yet in the Boston area.  Until Sunday.  Obvs.  At 6:00am it was already nice and warm out and just a bit sticky.  I still sat outside and enjoyed my coffee as usual.  It was a lovely, quiet moment to myself.  My entire family, including the dogs, were scattered about in various other places and I'd just made a quick, solo trip home for this race.  It was very weird to be alone in my house.  Never happens.  Not gonna lie, kind of nice.

I left home around 6:30, zipped into Boston easily and found parking without any issues because it was early Sunday morning and the city was still asleep.  Added bonus?  No meters on Sunday.  Love that for me.  I walked over to the Common and met up with Ruben.  I've actually been woking with him for a while now but we'd never met in person before Sunday so it was nice to put a face to the name.  We talked a little bit more about the race and how I should try manage it given how tired and off I'd been.  His main advice to me was to welcome the pain in.  Right, I thought.  I mean, the pain was coming no matter what.  Might as well invite it in.  

I thanked him for his words of wisdom and took off for my warmup, not that I needed much as it was now in the 70s and the sun was starting to do its thing.  No complaints, I thought to myself.  Welcome the pain.  Let's go.  I stopped by my car and changed shoes and then made my way over to the start area to do some final dynamics and strides.  Which didn't really go as planned.  I did my dynamics as I waited in the very long line for the bathroom and then because that had taken forever there would be no strides.  I needed to bust a move over to my corral or I'd be stuck in a spot that I didn't want to be in for the start.  Oh well.  

THE RACE 

Miles 1-6.2: 6:07, 6:14, 6:12, 6:07, 6:13, 6:15, 5:48

There were over 5,000 people racing and not surprisingly the start area was pretty tight.  Shoulders were bumping and people were pushing a little to find a place where they felt comfortable.  Normally this isn't a big deal but it's been so long since I've stood in a crowd this big that it was a little overwhelming.  I just tucked in and tried to keep to myself.  And sweated.  Already lots of sweating by the time we got going.  The race began at 8:00am but the elite men went first followed by the elite women and the para athletes so we didn't actually cross the start mat until seven minutes after eight.  It doesn't seem like a lot of time but when your squished in with thousands of hot and anxious runners the minutes go by real slow.  Finally, they sent us off and I followed the crowds out of the Common and onto Commonwealth.  Mile one came up faster than I anticipated.  I looked at my watch and saw 6:07.  That was not in line with the plan Ruben and I had discussed.  Not even close.  But instead of freaking out or making a major change I made the conscious decision to throw my plan out the window and let it ride.

You can see that we had some shade on our way out.  That was huge.  I did my best to stay relaxed for these first two miles knowing that three through six were going to be in full sun.  As we headed out to the turnaround we started to see the pros coming at us in the other direction.  Which was awesome.  It's just so inspiring to see these incredible athletes flying by, doing what they do best.  I also saw and yelled for Ruben who happens to be very, very fast.  It was a perfect distraction to get to mile three at which point I turned around and headed back myself.  So, three more miles.  I was hurting now.  And the heat was kicking in.  But I was also kind of okay; my breathing was relatively controlled and my legs were working with me which is not what I'd expected.  As far as inviting the pain in, yea, the pain was now in the house.  Actually, it kind of felt like the pain had settled nicely onto my couch and thrown on a movie.  It clearly wasn't going anywhere.  So I just moved over and gave it some room.  Lots of room.

The guy behind me, I would later learn, is also named Ruben.  Unbeknownst to me he had decided that my pace was working well for him and that he'd stay with me for the remainder of the race.  Which is why he is in every single photo with me.  But, it's all good.  We connected afterwards and he thanked me for being his rabbit.  It's a role I rarely take on as more often than not I'm using others to pace me so I was happy this worked out for him.

When you're running a 10k at a hard effort in the sun and you get to mile 5, 1.2 more miles feels stupid long.  On this final stretch you can see the turn for the finish but it's like a mirage.  It's there but it's not really there.  The pain train was in full effect at this point.  I was digging deep and hoping I didn't toss my cookies as we made the final push.  When you're running a 10k at a hard effort in the sun and you get to mile 6, .2 miles also feels stupid long.  But there it was.  The finish line.  And I could see the clock.  The time was 38 minutes and change.  And, college running aside, I have never run a 10k under 40 minutes.  So I freaking threw down and gave it every thing I had which was good for 38:49; about a 3 minute personal best.  EFF.  YES.  And HOLY. HELL.

What a trip.  I was toast.  And I was elated.  But mainly toast.  And it was worth every painful second.  I am constantly telling my Lex athletes that the well runs deep as far as training goes.  That you can show up for a practice or race and feel tired or out of sorts but still have a decent day because there is a lot of good work in there waiting to be tapped.  I tell them this all the time.  But I don't always tell myself when I'm lining up and I feel like shit and I think I'm going to have a bad day.  Which makes no sense. Why wouldn't I practice what I preach?  After this race, I will never doubt again.  Trust the training.  Trust myself.  Tap the well.  It's all in there.  

Once I'd gotten some water and some very hot Gatorade I took some time to run around and find all my friends who I knew where at this race with me.  I cooled down with Brian (bottom right) a good friend of mine for a few years now.  I caught up with Haley (top right) a former Lex athlete who has since graduated from college and is working in MA.  (oof, I'm old).  I exchanged hugs and congrats with Amy (bottom center) a dear friend and occasional training buddy.  I fought my way over to the main stage so I could say hi to Allie (lower left) who was on the mic and always puts in me in a good mood because she's just so full of positive energy and love.  And last, I tracked down Lauren (top right), my teammate, friend and running partner who I'm about start seeing a lot more of next month as we both dive into fall marathon training.  THIS.  This is what it's all about.  The run community is amazing.  I love the racing.  I love pushing my limits.  The good, the bad, the ugly; all of it.  I'm in.  But I love these people and the run vibe in general, the most.  The friends I've made through running are my other family.  And race time and place aside, they are the main reason I keep coming back for more.

Quick note to close things out.  And it sounds braggy.  So I'm sorry.  But it's important.  Since turning 47, I have PR'd in every distance I've run from the mile to the marathon.  When I turned 40 I thought my window of opportunity to run fast and improve would start closing pretty rapidly.  Not so.  Not even close.  Who knows what I have left but that door is still wide open.  And pain?  He, she, it...doesn't matter.  They're not so bad.  I think we're gonna be friends for just a little while longer.  Turns out we like the same movies.  Up next, Falmouth.  Let's goooooo.

Listen to this:

Ain't Ready - Santigold

Santigold · Ain’t Ready