Tommy Ten-Miler wrap-up

I did not run on Friday, having to get up earlier than usual to go to work and traveling to Lewes / Rehoboth Beach in the afternoon. I would have liked to get a few miles in, just to tally up a few more miles on the week, but it wouldn't hurt my legs to take another rest day this week and sometimes life just twists a little bit and it happens. The weather wasn't very nice in (s)lower Delaware Friday afternoon; rain, off and on heavy. Forecast implied it might be the same Saturday morning, which was not appealing, but I'd deal with it.

Had some difficulty finding somewhere suitable to eat. I would have been happy at any old Italian place just to have a plate of spaghetti, but wanted B to have better options too. We ended up at a restaurant on the boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach, one I will leave nameless because I don't want to give it a bad name just because my experience wasn't exceptional -- it wasn't really their fault, if I hadn't been looking for a specific type of fare it would have been just fine. I wanted the chicken parm with its pile of noodles, but it turned out (after we had settled in at the bar and ordered) that they were out of that and it was off the menu for the night. There was only one other noodle-based dish -- a mac and cheese that was all seafoody, so it wasn't really an option. I ended up with a grilled chicken sandwich and my only carb-loading for the night consisted of the bun and fries (do they really even count?). I tried to tell myself if didn't matter if my calorie store really came from noodles or something else, I wouldn't be depleting my stores over only ten miles anyway, right? I wasn't getting ready for a marathon. It's just tradition; I pretty much never have anything but pasta the night before the race.

I am not sure it was enough calories, whatever their source. I had a granola bar in the hotel while watching the Flyers, just to try to top off the tank, but in the morning I felt very hungry. I was also very tired. I had extreme difficulty getting to sleep, for a variety of reasons, top among them being a jazzed-up excitement because the Flyers had won game 5 when they had absolutely zero business winning that game by all statistics and reasonable expectations; add to that the usual pre-race brain activity (where I pretty unwillingly fantasize the race outcome to both extremes, I'm either dominating in super-PR time or I am crashing and burning all to hell) and some snoring by B, it was a couple hours before my brain cooled it enough to drop off. I tried to hydrate before going to bed (but not so much that I would spend all night dreaming about having to pee, and then waking numerous times to actually pee), but the few times that I did wake, I always felt very thirsty. I got up at 6:30, feeling a little sandy-headed, hungry, and thirsty.

Breakfast in the hotel: a bowl of oatmeal and a piece of wheat toast and peanut butter. Nothing so different from what I eat at home pre-long run, just different oatmeal. Still felt a little hungry but was afraid of eating too much and it sitting in my stomach when the race started in about an hour and a half. Tried to drink more, but not so much that I would think I needed to pee every five minutes once we got to the starting area in Lewes. Pretty sure I was overthinking everything, it was just ten miles, after all, not a marathon.

It was not raining when we left for the start, around 7:45. It was heavily overcast, warmish and very humid after a night of rain. The radar suggested it might rain during the race, and I debated wearing a cap because I hate to have rain in my face -- but it was so warm I hesitated, as a hat would only amplify the warmth. Once again, probably overthinking it; it was only ten miles, so I decided against the hat and would just take the rain in my face if it happened. It wouldn't be for three hours like it was in Boston, so it would be ok enough. (It ended up not raining, but I thought during the race that a little rain might feel good.)

I only felt like I had to use the porta-potty once while we were there, and that was mainly because I figured I should before the start more than any actual pressing need. This was maybe a warning sign, and I sipped water while waiting around for the start.

It was a little chaotic around the starting line, and there was a delay with starting for one reason or another; there was a "kiddy K" that we had to wait for as well. I had already said goodbye to B and was standing in the midst of the crowd, and had no water with me, and the longer we had to wait around, the more I regretted that. I had taken a gel around 8:20, anticipating the 8:30 start, but it wasn't until almost 8:45 that we finally got going. Nothing was timed right for me, and when I started, I was thirsty and I don't know if the gel was doing any good by then.

I had to struggle to get around slower runners in the first 100-200m, stepping alongside the road into some muddy grass, and my legs immediately alarmed me; no spring in them, my quads a little stiff. I tried to set aside any worry about that, as it often takes me a mile or two to get into the rhythm and feel comfortable, but by 1-2 miles, I was not feeling much better. I ticked off a couple miles around 7:10, and knew then that it was too fast for how not-good I felt, but every time I tried to back off on the pace, I'd look down a little bit later and I'd be back around 7:15 or so. I just couldn't manage to keep myself under control, which was frustrating. So I decided to just go with it, if I blew up later it wouldn't be the worst thing. There would be some solid tempo miles out of it no matter what happened.

There wasn't water until mile 2, and the swallow I got from the cup wasn't enough. Not another stop until a little before mile 4 or so. Another swallow that wasn't quite enough. Just after mile 4, the flat, paved path we were running on ended and became a flat, packed-dirt path under trees. Instantly I felt slower without the spring-back of the harder pavement. There was no one around me. I had been running quite alone since before mile 2, when I passed two guys going up over the bridge across a narrow canal. I had been able to see a guy and a girl maybe 100-150m ahead of me for a while, and they were still on up ahead, but too far to even pretend to keep contact with and there was no one anywhere close behind me. Having to do all the mental work alone on an unfamiliar course while feeling less than good is tough. Between mile 4 and 5, I slowed way down. After averaging around 7:11 for the first 4 miles, my split for mile 5 was 7:27. This is partly due to the canopy of trees overhead, which confuses the Garmin a bit, but mostly due to my pace falling off. It was disappointing, but though I tried to surge a little and pick pace back up, I now had the opposite problem as I did earlier: instead of not being able to hold down I now could hold up.

A while after mile 4, the leaders started filtering back past me. They were very spread out. Two women were ahead of me; first place was waaay out in front of me, second place (the girl I could see) maybe 1, 1:30 ahead? After I went around the turnaround (no timing mat, which surprised me), I saw just how alone I was. The next runners were a couple/three minutes back. For a while though, I felt a little refreshed and faster (even though I was slowing) because I was passing a bunch of people going the other way. I was glad to leave the tree cover and leave the dirt path and get back to the asphalt, because I would feel better without the ground absorbing my footfalls and the Garmin would be more accurate. Unfortunately, even with these two factors, I was not much faster, in fact I stayed around 7:30 for the next 3 miles or so.

(I had doubts that a gel would do me much good, but I took one anyway, between mile 6 and 7 which was where this photo was taken.)

I started to think I was gaining ground on the second place woman, but she was still quite a good distance ahead of me. It just seemed the distance narrowed, but I was going to run out of real estate before I caught her. If it had been a half marathon, I might have (assuming I didn't crater even more during that further three miles). She ended up about 45 seconds ahead. I squeezed my pace a bit during the last mile, managing 7:20, but it wasn't good enough to catch her and it wasn't enough to really bring my time to anything I would say I was happy with. I am just glad that I could squeeze that little more out of myself. I was pretty well cooked, thirsty and hot and very swampy sweaty. The finish is a straightaway down a flat road, which I sailed down completely alone. B was near the finish, snapping pics. Two girls at the finish line stretched a banner across for me to run through. I was briefly confused, because I knew I was in third place -- was there someone finishing first for some other division somehow right behind me?? -- but no, they were stretching it for me. I thought that was a little odd and maybe even patronizing for third place, but I ran through it and felt a little fraudulent. I should only be breaking a banner for first place.

But I was first place in my division, I guess, so perhaps not such a fraud (but still, odd). They gave awards for first overall M and F, and everyone thereafter would be age-groupers. Frankly I'd rather be awarded third overall than 1st in F30-39, but I'll take the medal and enjoy seeing my name in the leaderboard in third place.

As you see, my chip time was 1:14:29. 3rd female overall, 1st F30-39, and 10th overall out of 120 finishers. Not my best, not my worst 10-mile. I wish I'd been able to pace it better (I don't know what my problem was, there) and I wish I'd felt better but I think things just didn't come together on a warm and humid day. Not too disappointed in the end. I didn't really back off for this race (unless you count taking Friday off) so wasn't exactly fresh for it, and if nothing else, I got in a pretty decent tempo workout. And I got to see the ocean at Cape Henlopen afterward.

I want to mention that the volunteers on the course were great. I want to thank them for spending their Saturday morning holding up traffic for me (and the rest of us) as I crossed intersections and for cheering me on -- their enthusiasm was almost all that stood between it feeling like a real race rather than a long tempo workout all on my own on a new path. Thanks for saying I looked great/strong/amazing, because I sure didn't feel great/strong/amazing! If I didn't intend on having terribly dead legs next April from running my best Boston ever, I'd come back to defend my third place finish.

Next up

I've signed up for the Tommy Ten-Miler in Lewes, Delaware on Saturday, April 23. The course is a "fast and flat" out-and-back, and USATF certified. This is the inaugural race, so there are no previous results to consult to judge where I might finish, and it's been a long time since I ran a 10-miler anyway so I'll just go out and have as good a time as one can have running 10 miles all race-pace like. Fingers crossed for reasonable (seasonable?) temperatures and maybe something less than gale-force winds?

Ten things I saw on my ten-miler today

1) Girl wearing a backpack that had kittens flying through space on it.
2) Guy whose jeans zipper was wiiiiiide open.
3) Trees starting to flower purple/pink.
4) Random dayglo yellow golf ball.
5) Some runners dressed as though it were 30F out. (It was mid-50s)
6) Boys playing roller hockey.
7) A Rabbit and Jetta on either side of my Jetta.
8) Kid learning to ride a bike, wearing a bright orange helmet.
9) Dude in red car, yelling something? at me.
10) Man wearing a Big Sur International Marathon t-shirt.

10-milers: possibilities and Broad Street musings

Got an email a couple days ago with links to upcoming local races. Among them was the Mayor's Icicle 10-miler taking place in Wilmington this coming Sunday. I'm a little wishy-washy about taking part, but most of my mind is on the go-for-it side. Right now I'm doing 10-milers on Sundays anyway so regardless of my time, I'd get the mileage in that I want to. I haven't done any pace or speedwork since before the Des Moines marathon, so I'd have no high expectations as to a finish time, but it will be illuminating to see where I am now at more or less baseline, and later contrast to where I will be in the spring. The course overlaps a great deal with other longer races that are held in Wilmington, so I'd be familiar with it (particularly with its long and arduous hill(s) in the middle). Unfortunately, while the temperature is forecast to be in the 50s on Sunday (though no doubt cooler at the 9 a.m. race start, pretty good for racing), it's also forecast to rain. I did the cold rain in Boston last year. It wasn't pleasant by any means, and obviously this is way below Boston in importance, so my mental softness about running in cold rain would keep me away in that case. I can get my miles in later if it stops raining, or do them on the treadmill.

Online registration closes tomorrow, but in-person registration is open race morning, so I have until essentially the last hour to decide. Right now it's the specter of cruddy weather that's holding back my 100% about it.

I haven't done a 10-mile race since I last did the Broad Street Run in 2008. It is not a particularly common race distance, but I actually kind of like it -- more challenging than a 10K, but not quite the challenge of a half-marathon. I've avoided doing the Broad Street race since then for a number of reasons, chief among them being that it falls on a weekend that's either too close before or after to some marathon I've done in the spring. Also, because it's ballooned in size/popularity, you have to decide many months in advance that you want to run it, and I was not always ready to make that decision when I had to. And then there is the size...

This phenomenon of skyrocketing race participation leaves me feeling cold. It's nice that road racing is more popular, but I very much dislike the idea that for some races I would like to run, I have to decide half a year (at least) in advance that I'm going to do it, because the moment registration opens it's going to sell out, and I won't have an opportunity to decide later. (I'm not talking about marathons, because obviously, given the training required, that decision must be made many months in advance regardless of registration times.) When I ran the BSR in 2004 for the first time, there were approximately 10,000 runners, which to me is a good size; big enough so the field is competitive and you are never alone, but you don't have the jam-packed feeling that a larger field can give. In 2006, when I ran it for the second time, it had swelled a few thousand, but that still felt manageable. I could still get on the subway in Center City to hitch a ride up to the start and was not crammed into the train car. By the time I ran it last in 2008, it had grown to almost 20,000 runners, and I had trouble getting onto the subway way down at its start at Broad and Pattison -- never mind making stops at City Hall, no one could get on. It was awful being squashed so tightly into those subway cars all the way up to Olney. It's a terrible way to get psyched for a race. Last year, there were nearly 40,000 participants; can't even imagine what it must have been like trying to get a ride on the train. Even though they've opened up the field to such a grossly large number, not only do you have to decide in the winter that you want to run this race in May, they have to hold a lottery -- so you even when you decide while it's still winter that you want to do it, you still might not get to.

I liked the Broad Street race. The course really couldn't be more conducive to good racing; it's straight (except for the brief bit going around City Hall) and no uphill to speak of. It's a rush to run a race through the heart of a big city, and you get a very good flavor of Philadelphia (good and bad). I had not lived near Philly for very long when I ran it the first time, so my memories of it are pleasantly linked to those feelings of excitement and awe of a big-time race in a big-time city. When I ran it in 2008, I was somewhat disillusioned; the horrid train ride, missing the start of the race because I was stuck in a porta-potty line*; it was only after a couple miles that I was able to relax and get back into the right frame of mind to just race. By the end I was feeling better about it (I was shy of my debut PR by only 8 seconds -- how do I always do that, miss a PR by 10 seconds or less?), and always intended to run it again -- some day -- better prepared to deal with what evidently I had not been prepared to deal with. I thought this year could be the year, because I'm not running Boston and my planned spring marathon is later in May. Leery about the field size, though; as years have gone on, I've found I want to deal with giant crowds less and less, so I felt that if I did not get in through the lottery, it wouldn't break my heart. Registration opens in February, so I didn't have to really make up my mind quite yet.

Then I got this email a couple days ago, which, in addition to the 10-miler this weekend, listed another 10-miler in Lewes, DE on April 23, a week before the Broad Street Run. It's an inaugural race, so there may be some hiccups, but the option of this race at about the same time of year has led to me toss the whole Broad Street idea. The Lewes race will be a good alternative to get the same race distance in at about the same time of year, and without the hassle of Broad Street and the 40,000 other runners. Just a guess, the course probably won't be very hilly (I haven't been to the Delaware shore all that often, but my experience on the east coast is that the coast doesn't have much up and down to it -- if I'm wrong about Lewes, please, let me know!). Also, being a week earlier, I could still do one of the Triple Crown trail runs on April 30, which I was actually looking forward to trying for the first time.

Sorry, Broad Street. Looks like the next time we maybe can hook up again will be 2018 (I'm planning on Boston next year).

*Porta-potty timing is crucial for any race (there could be a whole post about it on its own), but here it was especially critical. It had been quite a while since my last pit-stop. I'd driven up from Wilmington to Philly; the train ride from Pattison to Olney is not short, even when "express", and somewhere in the middle of it, while I huddled among the arms and legs and shoulders of thousands of others, I realized I needed to go, all the while knowing that these thousands of others were feeling the same way. I had thought the timing was OK, but I was using 2004/2006 as my standard, which was a mistake. Twice as many people, etc. I was still in the porta-potty line when the race started. I was infuriated, but there was no way I was going to be able to run ten miles without making this stop now. The reasonable side of my brain piped up and tried to console the irrational side, which was the one that was front and center just then: come on, Crusher, you were not in contention to win this race -- you were going to start miles behind the front anyway -- chip time is all that really matters here, so not being blocks back on Broad Street at the time of the gun isn't a big deal. (I had a 5:30 differential between gun and chip times -- not much worse than in 2006 when I was lined up properly (5 minutes); in 2004, it was only 3 minutes.)

It still felt like a big deal. As I said, it took me a couple miles to get over it.