Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Shamrocks and Shenanigans

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Two hundred eager kids in various shades of green amass at the start line. Parents on the sidelines ranging from stressed to enthusiastic. The sound of a horn, and they’re off. This is the kid’s dash – 1K around a portion of the 5K Shamrocks and Shenanigans course I’ll be running in just a bit.
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Every season is different and every race is different. This race is the earliest 5k I have run in a season, so I don’t know what to expect.
The kids come back around. Parents are cheering. Bag pipers are piping (I thought it was a Scottish thing, and this is an Irish holiday but what do I know). The leaders cross the finish line – 3 of the top 5 are girls. It will be quite a many years before the boys catch up in speed. But each passing year at all age levels marks a closing of the gap between boys and girls in distance. In fact, I believe I have recently read that women have the advantage at longer distances, but I digress…
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I bike into town on my new cherry red cruiser and park it outside of a local café and walk to the race area.
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It is a block further west of the downtown street I am most familiar with and it surprises me to see that over the years a string of new businesses in brightly colored houses and buildings have emerged. It’s always neat to discover something new in a town you’ve lived in more than half of your life.
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After the kid’s race I start my warm up. As per my plan – at fifteen minutes before the start, warm up for 10 minutes, then get in line. And so I begin. About 5 minutes in a volunteer yells to me – hurry up, they’re going to start – and even though my watch tells me I have 10 minutes left I cut my warm-up short and head to the start line. And it is a good thing because they start the race 6 minutes early (or my watch is 6 minutes late). Note to self: Synchronize watch with race time and stay in sight of start line.
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I line up based on my pace at the end of the season. On the front line, just ahead of me is this guy from the race back in December. He drew my attention at the start at that race for talking quite loudly about his terrific speed to the other runners at the very front. In that race he was in the top 10…for the first 30 seconds, before just breaking down and finishing somewhere in the middle of hundreds of other runners. The horn sounds, and we’re off. I hang back a little. Mr. Loud Talker is elbowing people out of the way. I lose sight of the first 20 or so runners as we round a corner. The next thing I know, I’m passing Mr. Loud Talker who is already spent. But this race is not about him. That is just passing amusement.
I try to settle into a steady pace. This is kind of difficult for a couple of reasons. For one, the course is very hilly. The second is frankly, I’m not all that good at it. I tend to go out a little fast. Not Mr. Loud Talker fast, but fast enough that I slow down as the race goes on. I look for someone who is going at a pace that seems fast but sustainable for me. Not having much luck. Like Goldilocks, I find that this one is too fast, and this one is too slow. Finally, with about 2K to go, this one is just right. Some guy who apparently ran the Detroit Marathon the previous fall. Then we hit a hill and he slows down and I’m on my own again. The last half of the course is a bit of a challenge because of the walkers. Parts of the course have multiple laps, so now I’m lapping people. Stroller to the left; Large woman with headphones, pumping her elbows really wide to the right; obese labrador retriever getting dragged by college student straight ahead; quite an obstacle course.
Lungs are burning. Don’t know my heart rate (my best method for pacing myself) as my chest strap has slipped in the first mile and is now around my waist. Guess the one drawback to losing weight over the winter. Doesn’t matter at this point. The end is in sight: inflated Red Bulls finish line comes into view. Cheering crowds. Bag pipes. Finish.
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Hanging out in the outdoor temporary beer garden outside of the local Irish Pub, I wait for my results. Wishing Angela was here. Or even that my phone worked so I could at least tell her I was done. Another note to self: If the phone is free, it probably sucks.
Results are posted. I’m third in my age group. Two thoughts at this point. First is that I am proud. My pace was essentially the same as my fastest from last year. Second thought: Damn it! Now I have to wait for awards. And wait. It’s past noon at this point, so I treat myself to a recovery drink that seems appropriate to the event.
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Half an hour later, they’re packing it up. No awards ceremony. I finally ask a volunteer what gives; The response: You can pick up your award at our store 6 miles away any time after noon tomorrow. Pretty anticlimactic.
So I buy my wife something nice, hop on the cruiser, and head on home. Looking forward to the next race. This one will have Martians.
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