The last 5k race I ran was Zach’s Run on October 4, 2008.
The last time I did anything resembling speedwork was about about 6 months ago, but even that was more like tempo running than all-out, out-of-breath, feel-like-my-lungs-are-going-to-explode running. Yup, it’s true: I can run 50 miles, I can do an Ironman, yet a 5k still scares me.
It’s not the distance. It’s the speed. It’s the burning, searing pain that comes from pushing your body past the redline into anaerobic zone. True, it’s only little more than 20 minutes. But, those 20 minutes are grueling. It’s not like endurance pain, which is my preference for suffering.
Nope.
5k pain is searing, sharp, intense – but gloriously brief. At least, that was what I said to myself as I lined up near the front of the pack on Sunday, November 28, 2010 for the start of the 12th annual Johnnie’s Run, a benefit for Children’s Leukemia and Down Syndrome Awareness. (For more information about the race, its cause, and its beneficiaries, see this Atlantic City Weekly article.)
As the runners jostled and bunched together at the starting line, the primary beneficiary of this year’s run, Christian Clopp, an 8-year old with Thalamic Astrocytoma, grabbed the bull horn and started the race:
“On your marks…”
The runners get into stance…
“Get set…”
The runners shift on their toes…
“Go!”
The runners take off like they were shot out of a cannon…
It was fast and furous – and a little bit physical – right from the start. There were elbows and knees everywhere. Wait: was this an Ironman swim start, or a local 5k?
My initial strategy was to try to stay with the chase pack. I knew the lead pack would be in the 6-minute (or below) range. So, I figured the chase pack might be working a pace that would be manageable for me–even though I had NO idea what that “manageable” pace might be.
After the first quarter-mile, I checked in with myself: my heart rate was already 165, and my pace was about a 6:15. Nope. This was not the manageable pace I sought. I could just feel that it was too much speed too early. I’m a “late bloomer” in a race. I need at least a mile or so to “get into” my legs. Even though I had done a 2 mile warm-up, I knew I would need time before I could find my rhythm–especially at this speed.
Because I hadn’t run a 5k in two years, the pacing information was just not useful to me at all. I paid attention to my heart rate. I knew I could sustain 170 beats per minute for 20 minutes. My revised plan was to keep the first half of the race at 170-ish bpm, and then give it hell after the turnaround.
The course was a simple out and back, which I liked because I could see who was in front of me. As the fastest runners started coming back, I saw that a young – very, very, very young – girl was in the lead (turns out she was 12). Then, there were three women chasing her. After that, there were 3 other women and then me.
Hmmmm. It would be tough to catch that female chase pack in this short of a race–they had at least a minute on me, if not more. Give me 10 miles, I gotcha… but 1.5 miles? You got me.
But those three other women? I was going for them.
After the turn around, I let the horses run free, let concerns about a too-high heart rate fly into the wind, and sure enough, the 7th place woman was right in front of me within 30 seconds. After passing her, I saw the 6th place woman, and decided to shadow her for a while. I ran behind her as we passed a few of the men, and then with about 1.1 miles to go, I made my move. (In hindsight, I realize that waiting so long to pass her was a mistake, because I could have run faster during this time.)
I learned a while ago that if you are going to pass someone, you’ve got to pass them like you mean it. Otherwise, they’ll charge you. You have to make it your race, and that means dictating the tempo. So, I sprinted past her.
I looked ahead, and couldn’t see the 5th place female. Dang. But, there were several male runners in front of me. I made them my targets.
You see, this is my patented maneuver. I like–okay, LOVE–to pick people off during the second half of a race. I swear I’m not a nasty competitor, but I enjoy the foot race–whether I win it or not. And, I like to pass people at the end. I’m a come-from-behind kind of runner. Always have been. I guess that’s why I love the endurance sports so much. You’ve got all that time to warm up before the race really begins :).
With about a half a mile to go, one of the male runners I had passed charged past me. I was already almost at top speed, so I let him go. Within a tenth of a mile, he slowed, I maintained my pace, and I charged past him again. He tried to get past me one more time in the finishing chute, but I kicked it in (my garmin says I was running a 5:05!) and I beat him by a few seconds.It was fun hearing the spectators cheer us on.
I heard one person say, “Oooh, she’s not going to let him beat her!”
No, no I was not going to let him beat me with 50 feet left. I have a kick, and I’m not afraid to use it.
But, I never did catch that 5th place female. I wound up 30th runner overall, 6th female overall, and 2nd in my age group, which is 30-39 (a 31 year old was in the chase pack; she earned 2nd female overall). The official results are not posted yet, so I don’t know exactly how far behind I was from the top 5.
I crossed the finish line in 21 minutes and 48 seconds – a personal record for me by 1 minute and 10 seconds. Wowsa! Did I really just run a 7:00 minute mile for 3.1 miles?
My first thought after finishing: Ouch, my lungs HURT!
My second thought: Hmmmm. I wonder how fast I could do it if I did some speed training?
It’s a sickness. I can’t help it.
