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FLRC Newsletter - Apr 2004 |
| A Rookie at 43: Hartshorne Mile and Finger Lakes Snowshoe | |
It is amazing what really cold weather will make you do...
For those who don't know me, I'm more of a road "racer" and think 5K a "short" race. I had never been to a track meet in my life (discounting the Penn Relays in Philadelphia, which are more like a circus anyhow) - and in fact, had rarely run on any track until I started joining Lorrie Tily and company on Wednesday mornings. However, the January weather had driven me indoors, where I began doing speedwork again, this time with the help of Bob Dattola. When Bob Dattola suggested that I run in the Hartshorne Mile, well, I was intrigued and scared. Bob convinced me that I wouldn't die or embarrass myself, and that in fact, I could run a 6:10 mile. So I signed up (at the last minute, thank you Rick) and tried not to think about what I was getting myself into. All week, though, I'd find myself thinking about the race - sometimes running great (sub-6!) and sometimes not finishing. I ran with some fellow FLRC folks who were also preparing for the race, and they were both supportive and scary; a number said the mile was the toughest event to run.
Sunday morning, I showed up a little late and anxious. I got a break when Rick gave me my choice of heats - basically my predicted time was right on the dividing line. I chose to do the later heat, as I felt I would be more comfortable running behind everyone (like I did in all the speedwork) than ahead of most others. This choice also gave me time to warm up, and to watch 2 other heats of runners - maybe I could pick up some tips! Of course, it also gave me time to hear things like "I think the mile is tougher than any race I've run, including marathons and Ironman" (Terry Haebecker) and "I agree" (Bob D.). So I picked up my new FLRC singlet, hoping it had some speed in it and reviewed my plan: try to run 46 second laps (200m) with the extra 2 seconds for the extra distance between 1600m and a mile. It didn't seem so hard, but Bob had also warned me that the 5th and 6th laps were the toughest, so I decided to concentrate on those. The first two heats went by all too soon - I tried to filter my nervous energy into cheering for friends who were running. I couldn't imagine what they were going through.
When it came time for my heat, I was impressed at the race organization: we were lined up in order of predicted finishing time, so I was on the outside. There were enough runners in the heat to split the slowest ones out to a second starting line. This resulted in the odd feeling, when the gun sounded, that the 6 or 7 of us were leading the race - until the faster runners passed on the inside. I actually don't remember much of the race - I've never liked running on a track, and I'm not a fan of Barton Hall, with its tight turns and very dry and dusty air. I do remember being falling far behind everyone else rather quickly, though I was holding my pace and trying to stay relaxed. I found it very disconcerting that the race clock was well beyond the start/finish - although there was someone callling out the split times at the start finish line itself. I know that I kept my pace for the first 4 laps (:48, 1:34, 2:20, 3:06) but then....well, I'm not sure what happened. I was accustomed to, while running a race, figuring out how I was feeling and weighing it against my perceptions of the race course and weather and adjusting my pace accordingly. This time, I had NO idea - was I running too hard? too easy? How much did I have left? I do know that I got lapped during lap 7 - and I appreciate the patience of the faster runners - and that I actually passed one person as well on that lap, but the next thing I remember is hearing 5:28 as I finished lap 7 (rats - 4 seconds off my goal) and trying as hard as I could to make up the time on the last lap. It helped that there was a runner ahead of me who was struggling, so I had someone to try to catch. I didn't quite make it, but I did run a :44 on the last lap. It sounds slow now, but I was working hard! And while I didn't quite make my goal, I wasn't far off.
Having survived my race, and thanking Bob D profusely for his help, I could wander into a corner, eat cookies and watch the remaining heats, cheering on the FLRC folks that I recognized. I could better appreciate what the runners were going through, though the speeds they ran were incomprehensible to me - and they just kept getting faster! I couldn't stay for the college meet, but will try to next time, for I know they are even faster yet.
Now that should have been enough newness for me for one month, but having survived that, I gave in to the siren call that Lorrie Tily, Tracy Austin and others were singing, and decided to run in the FLRC Snowshoe race. I had hiked in snowshoes, but figured that was about as helpful to this event as the long runs were to the mile race. Lorrie kept promising me that she would be doing it slow...and my wife even expressed interest (much to my surprise) though she reserved the right to back out if it were too cold.
Well, sure enough, the day of the race, it was COLD, and so I headed over to the race site alone. I had a couple of gym bags full of clothes with me, for I wasn't sure what would be appropriate: jeans? windproof pants? tights? etc. I found the Potomac site easily enough (good directions on the website!) and walked in to register. I was wearing a down coat, sweater, jeans and snow boots at this point, because it was even colder than I would have imagined. And the wind seemed stronger there than at my house. It felt like one of the winter camps I went on as a Boy scout - folks clustered around a wood fire, others bustling under the shelter - until Karen Grover greeted me (in the stone ages I grew up in, girls weren't allowed to go camping with the boys). Karen got me registered, and pointed me at the snowshoes.
The bindings were very different from anything I had used before, so I sat for awhile and figured them out. Tracy came by around then, and got her snowshoes on, so I watched and learned. Heidi White was doing the fun run, and as I run with Heidi and know our paces are similar, I decided I would join her - still in my jeans, sweater, down coat, etc. At first, it was easier than I expected - but that was because the course was downhill. I saw several people fall, but couldn't figure out why. As the course looped around and started climbing, I began laboring, and eventually slowed to a walk by the time the fun run course split off of the race course and headed back to the picnic area. I was soaked in sweat - and really worried about being able to do 2 miles, much less 7.6. However, I know that fools rush in where angels fear to tread, and so I shuffled back to the car, seeing a number of other competitors (Lawren, Darren, Becki, etc) arriving.
Running tights seemed to be the order of the day, so I struggled into mine in my car (no small feat) and headed back to the start line. I should have been cold, but I was so nervous I didn't notice. I got a big tip from Andri Goncarovs: duct tape around the top of my socks to keep the snow out - not a problem when wearing jeans. When race time came, I deliberately moved to the back, hoping to stay with the folks I met there - Lorrie, Diane Sherrer, Gail, etc. All of Joe Reynold's comments about trail breaking et al might as well have been in French, for I had no idea what he meant. I just concentrated on staying out of everybody's way, and starting at a slow pace. My nervousness wasn't helped when I saw Tracy at the side of the trail because of snowshoe problems - as I had watched her for guidance in putting them on in the first place. I did begin to relax after I made the turn onto the race course - I was committed now, and actually, was finding it a little easier than I had expected. I guess jeans and down coats don't make for good running wear! I set what seemed like a reasonable pace - it felt slow enough to sustain for quite awhile. Much to my amazement/amusement, I wasn't all alone; while I wasn't running with someone, there were other snowshoers just ahead and behind me, and we were all going more or less the same pace. And as we descended, we got out of the wind, and it actually became a very enjoyable experience. I actually felt like I was rushing, it was SO nice to be outside to see winter in its glory - the snow contrasting with the dark pines and the various colors of bark on the trees. And there were enough breaks and challenges.
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