Race Report: Woodruff Family YMCA Y-Tri 2016

I did the Woodruff Family YMCA Y-Tri last weekend, and it was my first race in several years.  I still haven’t decided if it’s the start of a comeback or a one-off, but at a minimum, I suppose I’m now honor-bound to do the Woodruff Y’s other seasonal race, August’s Charles Island Sprint Triathlon.  If I can come up with one more race, I suppose that would make this the start of an official comeback.

The Y-Tri is a short sprint, and although I feel like I have to defend myself for saying this, it’s exactly my favorite kind of race.  I typically train for Olympic distance triathlons because those training distances really suit me—two to three thousand yard swims, twenty-five- to fifty-mile bike rides, and six- to nine-mile runs.  As a racer however, I function best as a kind of later-day mid-distance specialist.  I’ll be forty-three next week, and yeah, that makes it easier to longer, slower.  However, I once specialized in the 200 butterfly, and with that background, my best thing remains hard uptempo work at the end of short-but-grueling races to a strong finish.  

This describes the Y-Tri perfectly—300 yards swimming, 11-miles cycling, and 2.4-miles running.

Race Report: Fit For All 5k 2014

Sally and I ran the "Fit For All" 5k in Riverside Park, Manhattan, on Saturday.  The race was organized by Manhattan's West Side YMCA, but we ran as part of my company's corporate team.  Sally works for the YMCA in Milford, CT, so this particular race offered us a chance to both support an organization we believe in and make use of our various corporate connections for a day in New York.  After the race, we grabbed showers at the West Side YMCA and then took the kids to the American Museum of Natural History, where my company is a corporate sponsor.  All told, it was a pretty great day.

Race Report: 2013 Westport Kiwanis Triathlon

Sally and I did out last race of the season Sunday, the Westport Kiwanus Triathlon.  The race is a short (very short) sprint held at beautiful Compo Beach in Westport, CT, and we've been doing it now off-and-on since 2007.  Moreover, two years ago, this was Sally’s first open-water triathlon, and she’s been wanting to come back ever since.

2013 Pat Griskus Olympic Triathlon Race Report

I’ve been training all season for the Pat Griskus Olympic Triathlon.  It’s a tough race--tough course--but I’m reasonably satisfied with how I did overall.  Still, the race itself was kind of an exercise in humility.  

I don’t think I’m bad or untalented as a triathlete, but this race is the Northeast Regional Club Championships, and it brings out some pretty talented racers.  Lots of dedicated folks in tri-clubs from all over the greater New York City/Westchester County/Fairfield County area.  And truth is, sometimes how you do in a race is as dependent on who else shows up as it is on how you yourself perform.  This race was a reminder that there are a lot of folks out there who’re at least as talented as I am and who train a lot, lot more.

Y-Tri 2013 Race Report

FIRM Racing and the Woodruff Family YMCA held their fourth annual Y-Tri over the weekend, and I raced it as my first full triathlon of the season.  The race is a short sprint, consisting of a 300 yard pool swim, followed by an 11-mile bike course, followed by a 2.35-mile run.  That makes it the triathlon equivalent of a 10K--a good race for beginners and/or folks looking to try triathlon for the first time, and also a tune-up race for more serious triathletes early in the season.

I did well in this race, and that was important to me because I coach the Woodruff Y’s triathlon club, and while the club itself is neither large nor particularly formal, I still wanted to put my best foot forward with people that I like and respect looking on.

2012 Harvest Hustle Race Report

Over the weekend, Sally and I did the 2012 edition of Big Boy’s Harvest Hustle 10K down at Short Beach in Stratford, CT.  The race was originally scheduled for November 4^th, but thankfully it was postponed in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, which meant that although the weather was much colder and windier than it would have been on the original date, the upside was that I actually got a chance to run it.

Pre-Race

When Sally and I signed up for the race, we’d meant for it to be our last real race of the year, and given that my training year had already been cut short once because of The Crisis at work, I was planning to try to really focus on this race and take it seriously.  Events, however, did not cooperate.  The last full week in October was a previously scheduled Rest Week for me, and at the time, I’d been doing a lot of interval work and felt like I badly needed the rest.  What I didn't know at the time, however, was that our second hurricane in two years would strike immediately after my Rest Week and keep me out for another two full weeks of would-be training.  So by the time the actual race week rolled around, I was coming off an unplanned three-week training hiatus.  Moreover, Sally and I had always planned to do a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day, and neither of us wanted to cancel that, especially for a race in which, honestly, I had no expectation of running well. 

This is not to say that I wasn't looking forward to the race.  I definitely was.  What it meant was that there was no pressure.  I was committed to running easy and just having fun with it.  And with that in mind, Sally and I both trained straight through the week, making absolutely no allowance for the fact that the week was gonna end in a 10K for time.

As I've noted on this blog before, I was heavily involved in post-Sandy clean-up, working double-shifts straight through until Monday, November 12^th.  I then took Tuesday the 13^th off, but I didn't actually do anything that day besides drink beer and work on my favorite current writing project, The Sorcerer’s Tale.  After that, I worked my regular (desk) job for the rest of that week, and I rode my regular commute ride on my foldie those last three days, too.  Then I was off for previously scheduled vacation time for Thanksgiving Week, but I didn't actually make it out for a run until Sunday, November 18^th—almost exactly three weeks after my last previous run. 

That first run was a short, rough experience, but at least I got out there.  Then Sally and I went together to the Trumbull Trail for a five-miler on Monday, and I don’t mind telling you that she cleaned my clock with ease.  The next day we went to the gym together, and then I think we might've taken Wednesday off.  Thursday was Thanksgiving, and we did a very small neighborhood 5K—the Chickadee Lane Turkey Trot, and once again, Sally cleaned my clock.  I was ahead for the first mile and a half or so—while Sally was running with one of her friends and chatting about whatever it is that women chat about when they run.  But then she dropped her friend at around Mile 2 and put the hammer down, beating me by something like thirty seconds overall and probably 90-seconds on just that last mile by itself.  As it happens, Sally won that little race outright and took home the homemade trophy—a Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboy dressed up as a turkey. 

We used it as our centerpiece at dinner that night.

Anyway, I went out on my bike Friday and put in an easy twenty-miler.  I wound up averaging just over 17 mph and wasn't too sore afterwards.  All things considered, that was a big victory all by itself, especially since I headed into the hills north of Main Street for the back half of the ride.  Then Sally and I went back to the gym on Saturday where we worked our lats and core.  Then Sunday came the race, and we weren't exhausted, but as I mentioned, we weren't what you’d call focused, either.

Race Morning

It wasn't a particularly bad weather week last week, but it got colder as the week progressed, and when we woke up on Sunday, it was windy, too.  Hannah was still at a sleepover, so I took only Emma over to our neighbors’ house and dropped her off.  I assume they played Wii, but I’m not sure, and now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I even asked.  In any event, Sally and I drove the two miles down to Short Beach and got there around 9:00 am—just in time to find some miserable-looking volunteers setting up their base camp in what had to have been twenty miles per hour of wind coming in straight off of Long Island Sound.

Sally: Why the Heck are we here so early?

Me: We have a lot to do.  We need to stretch, warm up, check in…

Sally: We could have done all that at home.  It’s freezing out here.

Me: Yeah.  I suppose we probably could have.  Sorry about that.  I’m not used to the races being so close to the house.

Needless to say, I checked us in.  Then I put on a heavier sweatshirt, set up my yoga mat, and started warming up—to the general amazement of everyone, not least of all my wife. 

Sally: It’s freezing out here.  How can you stand it?

Me: I went to West Point, Sally.  And graduated.  You might not believe this, but I am actually tough when I have to be.

Truth was, I kind of loved how much the weather sucked during warm ups.  Yeah, it was 37-degrees and windy, but I struggle in heat, not the cold, and it motivated me to see everyone else shivering.  By the time I was done warming up, I felt good.  I decided to wear the heavier sweatshirt, but other than that, I didn't see any reason why we couldn't have a good day of racing.

The Race

We lined up just before at 10:00 am, and the race started right on time.  There were maybe two hundred people entered in total in both the 5K and the 10K races, and we started in a single heat.  The 5K course was an out-and-back affair—straight out from Short Beach, turn left and go around the golf course, wind through the neighborhood there in Lordship, and then turn right and run along Russian Beach for maybe a half-mile.  Then turn around and head back.  The 10K course was just the 5K course times two, and with this course being so close to our house, I guess that Sally and I have probably run it a hundred times.  Maybe more.  Perhaps not that exact course, but one very like it for sure.

Anyway, I’ll spare you the mile-by-mile, but I will say that Sally’s new GPS watch reported afterwards that she ran her race at a very even 8:12 per mile pace.  Personally, I started out easy and let myself range up to fifty or so yards behind her, but I closed the gap around the half way mark before falling off again around at around mile 4.  Coming into the last turn, I counted the women ahead of us—the ones who had already made the turn—and I realized that Sally was the 11^th woman overall, and that if she ran hard, she could maybe catch the lady ahead of her and finish 10^th.  Now, Sally is not the most competitive person that I've ever met, but she is competitive with me, so I decided to bury myself in an attempt to drag her into position.  At that point, Sally was maybe twenty yards ahead of me, so I had to shout when I told her, “You’re the eleventh woman, Sally!  Come on, let’s see if you can catch Number 10!”

And with that, I dropped the hammer heading into the last turn.  It took me maybe a quarter-mile to catch up to Sally, but unfortunately, she didn't have the acceleration to follow my move, and it was a good while before I realized that she hadn't been able to follow me.  I finished hard while behind me, Sally fell off her pace a bit and wound up finishing 12^th overall among the ladies.  Neither of us got anywhere near catching whomever it was that was the target of my late move.

2012 Harvest Hustle 10K

Dan—50:11 (8:06/mile).  7/10 Age Group; 26/64 Overall.

Sally—50:25 (8:08/mile).  1/6 Age Group; 28/64 Overall.

To say the least, I was happy with this performance.  Heading into this race, I’d just wanted to finish and feel good doing it.  In the event, I wound up about a minute off my best (recent) time and felt better than I had any right to feel.  Sally, however, was bummed.  She’d gotten passed at the last minute by a woman whom she’d been racing back and forth since the start of the race, and given the way that we’d finished, she was not happy to have been beaten to the line.  She cheered considerably when she realized that she’d won her age group—and that the woman who beat her at the end there was nearly twenty years her junior—but it was a while before all that really sank in.  In the immediacy of the event, she was crushed.

Still, this is the second time this year that Sally has won her age group in a race, and I think she likes it.  That can only bode well going forward.

Going Forward

Now our season is well and truly over.  I don’t think we’re racing again until the Stratford Sweetheart 4-Miler in February, and right now, that feels like a long way away. 

Speaking personally, I’m about ready to get back in the water.  I’m wondering if there’s not a relatively flat Olympic triathlon somewhere within easy driving distance that I could circle on my calendar as an early target race for 2013.  If you know of one, please drop a comment below.

Happy racing!  We’ll see you next year!

Race Report: Brian’s Beachside Boogie 2012

Brian’s Beachside Boogie is an annual early-season off-road duathon held at Hammonasset State Park, in Madison, CT.  The race itself is a run-bike-run duathlon consisting of a 2-mile off-road run over mowed grass turf marked with little yellow flags and a ten-mile two-loop bike ride done mostly on packed sand trails, paved road, and more mowed grass turf marked with yellow flags.  Sally and I first ran the Boogie four years ago, and it’s been one of our favorite races of the year ever since.

With that said, I debated whether or not to bother with a race report this year based on how the race played itself out for me, but ultimately I decided that the fate of my personal race wasn’t the fault of the organizers.  Lots of folks read these race reports in the course of planning out their triathlon seasons, and this particular race is one of the only good early-season tune-up duathlons in the region.  So…  I’m gonna go ahead and write this thing up and hope that it encourages others to come out for the Boogie next year.  This year’s event only had eighty-eight participants, down substantially from the last few times we’ve run it.  I’ve no idea why that might be, but by writing up this report, hopefully more folks will be encouraged to come out next year.

Pre-Race

The Boogie isn’t one of my “A” races, but it coincided on my training calendar with a regularly scheduled Rest Week, and considering that this tri season is probably going to get cut short prematurely, I was happy enough to have a chance to rest and try to do well.  I ran once, road once, and swam once during the week leading up to the Boogie, but I kept all three light and easy, so that by Saturday afternoon I felt pretty good.  Saturday night, we ended up ordering pizza and pasta from one of the local Italian places, and I had a beer—a bottle of Victory’s Hop Devil—along with a glass of a cheap but decent pinot noir that Sally picked out when we were at the liquor store earlier in the day.

I slept pretty well Saturday night, but for whatever reason awoke with a ripping headache Sunday morning.  I don’t know if it was sinuses or a little migraine or just a simple disagreement with the pinot—my money’s on the later, for the record—but whatever it was, when I got up Sunday morning and felt like hammered shit.  Well, what are you gonna do?  I made some coffee, took a couple of Advil, and started getting ready for the race.  Sally’s mom came over to watch the kids, and Sally and I hit the road at seven.

It ended up taking less than forty minutes to get to Hammonasset.  On the way, I drank most of a bottle of Gatorade and ate a Cliff bar, and at some point, I finally started feeling better.  Not great, but better.  Still, we got there early, and that left us with plenty of time.  We checked in, warmed up on the bikes, set up in transition, and did some yoga to finish warming-up.  The one thing I will mention about that—because it was so amazingly dumb that I can’t believe I did it—is that I adjusted the seat on my mountain bike while wearing my warm-up shoes but then didn’t check the fit after I’d changed into my racing shoes.  Like I said, dumb.  It would’ve been a moot point if I had clipless pedals on the mountain bike, but really, we only ride those bikes a few times a year.  Racing pedals don’t make a lot of sense in my opinion, all things considered.

Regardless, as we lined up, I commented to Sally that the race seemed smaller than it had been in years past, but that the competitors themselves looked lots faster and far more serious than ever before.  Anecdotally, I will say that I saw maybe fifteen guys and girls who’d bolted aero bars onto their mountain bikes for this one race, and I saw one guy who’d swapped out his entire bar for the bar on his road bike!  In past years, we’d seen less than five sets of aero bars, and at least two multisport newbies for every person kitted out in a tri team shirt or full-on team kit.  This time, I’d say that at least a full third of the racer were sporting team kits of some kind.

First Run 

We lined up, a girl sang the Star Spangled Banner, and we were off.  As always in this race, folks took off straight away.  And as always, I let them go. 

My opinion: the key to doing duathlon well is holding back on the first run. 

Anyway, folks took off, and I let myself settle into the fastest pace I could manage easily.  I tried to lean forward and just go with it, and after about three minutes, I decided I was okay to speed up a little.  I passed a few of the real rabbits at about the one mile mark, but as I said, most of the racers looked like experienced guys.  Very few fell apart in the first two miles.

I forced myself to slow down a little as we made the last turn and crossed into transition at about the center of the pack.  I was 15:24 at the end of the first two miles—almost exactly the same time I had at this same race last year.

Bike

I got on the bike and immediately realized that I’d moved my seat too low before the race.  I tried to ignore it, but it drove me absolutely crazy for the first four miles of the race.  I also wasn’t passing anybody on the bike, which was weird, too, compared to past years.  Before, I’ve always started reeling people in pretty quickly once we were on the bikes.  This year, I caught a few, but it was real work with the seat out of position.

In any event, one of the big differences between this year and past years was the bike course.  Hurricane Irene did a number on some of the trails, so that there were several spots with deep sand and more than a few spots with exposed rocks, roots, and other hazards.  Truth to tell, I kind of liked it that way.  Before, I always thought this race was a “mountain bike race” in name only.  This year, you actually needed the fat tires—and a few skills to go with them.  The course wasn’t technical by any means, but it was bumpy and sandy, and there were lots of sharp turns.  You couldn’t just cruise it.  You had to really work in places.

We got into the more challenging portion of the course at about the three-and-a-half or four-mile mark, and it was then that I finally stopped, moved my seat, and started to get more serious about the freakin’ race.  The effect was instantaneous.  I was off my bike for maybe twenty seconds.  I made those back in the first half-mile and finally started to really reel people in.  I hit the half-way mark at thirty-five minutes and was ready to accelerate and get it in gear.  My strategy going in had been to wait for the second half of the bike leg before really pouring it on, and so far, it looked like that was gonna work for me.

Unfortunately, I cut hard around a corner at about the six-and-a-half mile mark and sliced my rear tire open on a sharp rock.  I spent maybe a full minute in denial, but nope.  That was it.  My day was done.

The funny thing was that I’d actually considered putting a spare tube in my pocket for the race but decided that it was just not worth it.  Who flats on a mountain bike?

Well, I do.

Anyway, I walked back to Transition in no particular hurry.  Eventually, the rear inner tube started coming out, and I even had to carry the stupid bike.  Argh.

Second Run 

I dumped my bike, loafed through transition, and decided to run the second run anyway, even though I knew I’d DQed.  Having had a break, I was able to push it ludicrously, eventually turning it a 15:06 for that second run.  That’s probably not a lot faster than I’d have been able to run straight off the bike, but certainly, I don’t think I was gonna negative split the two runs.  Last year, I ran 15:40 on that second run.  I was probably cruising for that time again.

After the Race

A couple of guys came up to me after the race and consoled me.  One guy even said he thought I’d been racing well.  That was nice.  Truthfully, though, I wasn’t too upset until later.  At the time, I’d thought I was on-pace to almost exactly repeat my past performance, and that didn’t excite me over-much.  Certainly, I’d noted all the serious racers—and the fact that I’d only barely started to work my way up in the standings when I flatted.  What can I say?  It didn’t look like it was gonna be a stand-out performance.  Maybe that second loop on the bike was gonna be electric, but then again, maybe not.

As it happens, though, there were only eight racers in my age group, and I had an excellent shot at finishing third.  The guy who actually got third finished in 1:09-something, and I was 1:07-something last year.  Now granted, the course wasn’t quite as fast this year as it had been last year, but still… I had a good shot at negative-splitting the bike leg.  With that in mind, 1:09 was not an unreasonable goal.  Certainly, I’d have liked to have been able to race for it and see if I could, in fact, have caught the guy and gotten onto the podium.  After all, why else were we there but to race?

Still, it had been a decent enough day.  Sunny, mid-fifties, and not at all windy.  I got out there with my wife and raced.

If you’re wondering, by the way, Sally finished in 1:22-something.  She was fourth in her age group, and she said that she felt like she could have pushed it a little harder.  Probably, but she hasn’t been on the bike much, and I don’t think she has the killer instinct much in these race.  But, y’know, who cares?  We went together and raced.  At then end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.  Yes, it would have been nice to get a time, but as I noted to the guys that consoled me after the race, it’s not like this was an Olympic qualifier.  Ultimately, I think I ran reasonable well.  I’ll just have to take solace in that.

So.  If you're thinking of running this race next year, here're my thoughts on it:

 1. It's early in the season, but the weather is usually decent, and the last two years it's been actively NICE.

 2. There aren't many duathlons, and this one is fun.

 3. Where else are you gonna race your mountain bike?

And that's all I've got to say about that.

Race Report: 2012 Stratford YMCA Sweetheart Run

Sally and I ran our first race of the season on Saturday, the Stratford YMCA Sweetheart Run.  The race is a four-miler over rolling terrain with a tough hill at the third mile marker where the grade briefly goes all the way up to fourteen percent.  Matters were complicated slightly on Saturday by lingering snow flurries.  The temperature was in the mid-thirties, but persistent flakes kept all but the more-serious runners away.

Background: Fitting this Race into the Season

I don’t think of myself as a runner.  I think of myself as a triathlete who runs.  My background is swimming—I swam all four years at the U.S. Military Academy—but I learned to run from my father and kept running as a cadet and junior Army officer.  This creates an issue, however, in that I can usually come out of the water with the elite athletes in any given triathlon, only to see myself slip slowly back during the bike and then fall well back during the run.  So while I like running, the fact is that it is by and away my weakest discipline.  I mean, I don’t think of myself as a “bad” runner or anything.  But in the same way that I don’t expect that someone who didn’t swim in high school or college to be able to beat me in a swimming race, I likewise don’t expect for me myself to be able to beat former high school and college cross-country folk in their best discipline, either.

With all of that said, my wife Sally is the actual runner in our family, and under her influence, I’ve decided to make 2012 my Year of Running.  Which is only fair.  Sally comes by her swimming the hard way—I spent all last season teaching her—but after a good six or eight months of continuous work, she ran not one but two triathlons last season, the second of which had a tough open-water half-mile in two-foot swells.  But she came through it like a champ, and well, now it’s my turn.  After triathlon season ended, we signed up for and ran the Hartford Half-Marathon, and since then, I’ve made an effort to stay out of the pool and keep my focus on riding, and yes, running.

I mention all of this in an effort to put Saturday’s race in context.  It was our first race of the season, but we’ve both been working.  For me, I’ve put in about a month of reasonably solid base training, split evenly between cycling and running, but I’ve not yet worked up to any kind of really serious mileage or anything.  Thus Saturday’s race was an early season test of my newly developed running fitness, but neither Sally nor I rested at all for it, and we weren’t expecting to set the course on fire or anything.  But we like this race, and we’re familiar with the course, and I think we were both excited for it.  It’s also a good tune-up race for theWestport Minuteman 10K and the Brian’s Beachside Boogie duathlon, races that are on both of our calendars this season.

Pre-Race

Last week was a busy week.  We both had a lot going on at work, and the kids had a lot going on, too.  I rode the bike into the office Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, skipped Thursday but went for a lunchtime run, and then took Friday completely off.  Sally ran twice last week as well, but offhand I don’t remember which days or what else she did.  Friday night our girls had a Valentine’s Day Girl Scout thing after an early dinner, so that all in all, we didn’t wind up sitting down together until about nine pm Friday night.  It had been a busy week, but we watched Fringe and then spent some time together, and we still managed to get to bed pretty early.

We both woke up about seven the next morning.  I had a cup of coffee, a banana, and a small bowl of cereal.  Sally had some coffee and a bagel with peanut butter.  Then we stressed a little about whether or not her mother was going to show up to watch the kids with the snow outside.  But Barb surprised us by arriving on time and without an drama whatsoever.  After that, we both started stretching and doing yoga, and Sally said, “You know, I’m actually nervous.”

I smiled.  “This is why you should have an appreciation for Eli Manning.  You’re nervous now over a race that’s not even important.  Imagine what it’s like to play in the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl.”

Shortly after that, we got in the car and drove up to Boothe Hill Memorial Park, the site of the race.  As I said, the temperature was fairly warm considering that it’s February in Connecticut, but we had persistent snow flurries.  That kept most of the more casual runners at home, meaning that we had little trouble parking, got through race check-in quickly, and were ready to start warming up in no time at all.  At that point, Sally and I went our separate ways.  I put on a light riding jacket, changed out the lenses in my sunglasses, going from smoked to clear, and warmed up.  Since the race is so short, I wanted to give myself plenty of time.  I ended up running about a mile easy and then doing a couple of short pick-ups.  Then I settled down and did some more light stretching with Sally. 

I felt pretty good.  Not fresh or rested, but ready.  Sally, meanwhile, was all smiles and kisses.  Well, what do you want?  It was a Valentine’s Day run.

The Race

We edged up to the start line with everybody else, working our way forward to a ridiculous extent.  There were only a hundred fifty-seven runners entered, but we still pushed up, ending just two rows back from the start line.  We kind of laughed about that, but in the past we’ve been slowed down at the start of races by folks in front of us, and Sally had said she didn’t want that this time.  So we pushed forward, and to be honest, I didn’t really think very much of it.

But then we started, and folks just took off!  Honestly, I was shocked at how fast the leading edge of runners started out.  I mean, I expect the elites to be faster than me, but this was way beyond that.  It seemed like most everyone in the race started at a dead sprint, and this in a race with a very tough climb at the end.  Some folks, I had a feeling, hadn’t previewed the course.

In any event, with the way things were going, Sally and I each had a choice.  If you think of your total aerobic fitness as a matchbook with a finite number of matches, then the decision was this: “Do I burn a match now and keep up, or do I save my matches for later in the race?”  As we came around the first turn and started down the first hill, I decided to try to compromise.  I tried to run fast but loose, letting my turnover increase so that I pretty much flew down the hill.  Then we bottomed out, and I thought, the Hell with it.  If I don’t work the front half of this race, I won’t get a real test of my fitness.  So we came to the first climb, and I lit a match, powering up the hill and reeling in a goodly number of the early rabbits.  We turned left off that climb and came to a flat, and I settled back into a fast-but-loose pace, letting myself breathe and feeling pretty good.  I passed the first mile marker at 7:15, and to be honest, that was a lot faster than I’d thought I was gonna run. 

A bunch of the rabbits that I’d passed on that first climb passed me back on the flat, but I just kept breathing, knowing that there was more climbing to come.  We came to the second climb, and I again powered up, not burning energy quite so freely but still working it and reeling folks in.  Around me, I could see that some of the early rabbits were getting tired, but a lot still seemed in good shape, and I started wondering just how fast the day’s field was going to be.  On Hilltop Road, I again let myself breath, taking it fast-but-loose, and when we came to the second mile marker, I was pleased to see that I’d held the pace.  I was at 14:35 at mile two.  But the folks around me looked good, too.

Of course, now came the hard part.  And to make matters worse, now I was getting tired.  I couldn’t quite fly down the descent on Nemergut the way I’d have liked—it’s very steep—but I kept it going, and when we turned left to head on Cutspring to head towards that final climb, I couldn’t help wondering how I was going to take that last hill given how hard I’d already pushed it.  Around me, folks were visibly tiring and dropping away.  I got to the third mile marker at 22:10, having fallen off the pace slightly (from roughly 7:15/mile to around 7:35/mile), and then it was time to climb.  I’d like to say that I powered up the hill again, but in reality, it was tough.  Instead I just leaned into it and tried to keep turning my feet over and keep breathing.  I could feel my pace slowing, but there wasn’t a lot I could do.  That first section is very, very steep, and after that, it was hard to care about how fast I was running.  This seemed a common reaction.  I breathed and tried to hold my form together, but I knew I’d fallen off the pace, and I likewise knew there wasn’t a lot I could do about it.

The Sweetheart Race Run Course

Eventually, I made that last turn towards Boothe Hill Park.  I tried to pick it to hold off the few folks whom I’d passed on that last climb, but I could see a group ahead of me that I knew I wasn’t going to be able to catch.  I saw the finish line and gave it what I had left, crossing at 31:19 for a total average pace of 7:50/mile.  My math tells me that that last mile was over nine minutes, but I think it’s more like the first half of that last mile was almost walking pace, and after that, I was lucky just to finish as best I could.

2012 Stratford YMCA Sweetheart Run:

4-miles over rolling hills in 31:19.  6/18 Age Group.  36/157 Overall.

What can I say about that?  I’m happy with how I placed, but I’d like to have gone under thirty minutes total, though to be fair, I’m not sure how realistic that hope was considering how hard that last climb was.  Sally, meanwhile, finished just over two minutes behind me, coming in first in her age group and fifty-ninth overall.

Sally Head’s Sweetheart Run:

33:52.  1/19 Age Group.  59/157 Overall.

To say the least, Sally was ecstatic to have won her age group.  She earned her first ever athletic trophy, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Conclusion: Looking Ahead

We were all smiles after the race.

So there you have it.  Our first race is done, and we were both pretty pleased with how we ran.  Now we’ve got the rest of the season in front of us, and while I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing next, we’re certainly going to be racing.  Brian’s Beachside Boogie is in late April, and then the Westport 10K is in either later April or early May.  After that, there’s the Ten-Penny Shamrock Duathlon, but that’s in late May, and right now late May seems a long way off.  What I care about right now is that the new season has started, and that we’ve started it off right.