the luck of the irish

shamrock

When Ruby told me she wanted to run the St. Patrick’s 5k in Redondo Beach, I jumped at the chance and signed up both of us. We’ve been running Sundays for over a year and now we were going to race together. I’m right in the meat of preparing for the Chesebro Canyon Half Marathon, so I set my expectations to casual. I had no idea it would turn out to be one of my best races ever. What started out to be a fun run ended up as a massive PR and a sub-20 finish.

A week before the race, I logged over 60 miles including a hilly 19 miler. Most of my current training includes hills since Chesebro’s course runs up and down a mountain. The miles caught up with me. I received the gift of heavy legs struggled to pull myself out of bed each morning. I managed only two runs instead of my usual five or six, somehow believing that I was tapering, but wondering if I would be prepared on Sunday.

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Meanwhile daylight savings arrived, catching both of us by surprise. Race day found us grumpy and stumbling about in darkness that gave way to a  foggy and overcast morning. After parking and a quick warm up we were ready to go. Ruby and I fist-bumped and separated. I moved up to the front of the pack since I wanted to be clear of the starting crush. Somebody gave a speech. The national anthem played. Then we were off!

After so much long distance training, the race was a short intense blur. I remember a pack of kids sprinting out in front of me then falling back during the first mile. At the turn, a race volunteer yelled out our time, “6:11!” Crap, that was fifteen seconds too fast. Did I destroy my chances of a strong finish? My watch said 6:18, not much slower but closer to my goal pace of 6:25. I approached the next mile carefully- maybe too carefully. At mile two my watch beeped 6:33, too slow. I was in pacing limbo. I needed to run a strong third mile. But how strong?

I failed to realize the slightly uphill second mile contributed to my slowing. Plus it set me up for a downhill finish. In the moment, I was trying to maintain my pace through a consistent effort.  I was  unaware of any other runners. The thick fog became my ally since I could not see the remaining distance. With a half mile to go the finish line emerged from the mist and I pulled myself together for my kick. As I crossed the finish line I spied 19:38 on the clock, a minute faster than my previous best. After a dry heave or two I grabbed a cup of water and wandered back to find Ruby.

I spotted her about 200 yards from the finish and joined in for her kick. I made sure to let her finish ahead of me. After a brief recovery our post race relief kicked in and we high-fived our way to the water stand. This was when I realized that I had just crushed my PR. Now I could enjoy the post-race atmosphere and we congratulated the other runners, a leprechaun, and some faeries.

When the dust settled, my 19:38 placed me 26 out of 1166, third in my age group, and just under 6:20 per mile. Ruby also beat her PR handily.  I did not understand my results. Was my speed work for last month’s Superbowl Sunday 10K still paying dividends? I earned a shot of confidence as I train for the Chesebro Half in April and Mountains 2 Beach Marathon in May.

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With the help of my PR, I regained my appreciation and enthusiasm for the 5K. I’ve tried to play the race back in my mind but the memory is fading fast. It only took a day or two for me to ask, why not 19:00? Maybe, but for now I will enjoy my results as I set my sights toward my upcoming half and looming marathon.

 

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