Cigna 5K Race Report - A Family Affair

There is something about the month of August that completely sucks all of the training motivation out of me. It's finally legitimately hot out and feeling like summer, the biggest goal of the year has past and I still have some residual tiredness from racing a few weeks ago. But really? I still have to go out and train? Oh yeah, I do have kind of a big race coming up in now just 8 short weeks...

But first, a few little races here and there to fill in the gaps. I was spared from racing in a sprint triathlon last weekend, as apparently many of my teammates had to do. I was not sorry I was not among them, because I definitely didn't feel ready to be racing anywhere for any distance. I didn't feel ready on Thursday either, but I did anyway. It was the annual Cigna 5K in downtown Manchester, NH. This race typically has about 5000 runners of all abilities - from serious elite athletes (we're talking 13:53 for the winner this year) to people who will walk the course in over an hour. They make it a big corporate challenge and invite companies to build teams and race against each other, awards going to the fastest teams. It's also just an easier thing to deal with for most normal people, running 3.1 miles on a Thursday night after work rather than getting up early on a Saturday morning to be somewhere.

I'd run this race twice before, in 2006 and 2007. 2006 of course being my "fast" year, that was when I set my 5K PR of 19:25. The following year I ran a 20:05. I am incredibly inconsistent at everything but half marathons, it seems. But anyway... One fun thing about the race this year was that both my older sister and younger brother were also running. My sister ran a couple of marathons before I thought I was physically capable of running more than a mile and is currently training for a half marathon at the end of September. My brother took up running just as a way to stay in shape. He ran one other 5K a couple of years ago, but his time for that one shouldn't really count because he was being nice and hanging back with his then-girlfriend. I'd love it if one or both of them would ever do a triathlon, but I definitely haven't gotten my hopes up on that one.

Somehow amidst the sea of 5000 runners plus all of their friends, I ran into both of them pretty early, even though we had all come separately. Where is the best place to find who you're looking for? Near the porta-potties, of course. I gave my brother, Johnny, a gel so he could feel more official. I left my sister, Katy on her own since she is more of a race veteran than I am. This race is so big that you sign up either as a competitive runner, under 23 minutes, a recreational runner, under 30 minutes I think, or a walker. Each category has a different color for their bib numbers and you line up accordingly. I was in the competitive category and they were in the recreational category, so we didn't get to line up together. Good thing, because both of them ran with their iPods and I am not sure I want to be associated with iPod runners ;) We also ran into my cousin Conor, wearing a bib number. I've got a lot of cousins, and while none of them are following in my footsteps, Conor is about the least-likely candidate for running a 5K. I mean, he was athletic and everything growing up - playing football among other things - but he definitely wasn't the kind of kid you'd find enjoying the running portions of practice. In all fairness, neither was I. But then again, I also didn't grow up and start smoking and spending much of my free time at the bars. But that's just Conor. He was wearing incredibly old non-running sneakers with a giant hole in them, long shorts and one of those reversible basketball jerseys. He also told us that, "I ran a mile-and-a-half about two weeks ago and I almost died!" He finished off with his trademark laugh. You'd have to meet him to understand, but you almost can't help but smile almost any time to come in contact with him, never knowing what he might say or do next. We certainly don't hang around in the same circles now, but he was a ton of fun to hang out with when we were kids.

So none of my relatives were going to be running with me on the night. Instead I joined up with my friends Leslie and Kevin who I had gone over to the race with and had taken off to warm up a bit. I'm clueless when it comes to warm-ups. I ran down a side street about a hundred yards, ran back and decided that was good enough.

We had lucked out with the weather this year. It's one of those events that almost without fail winds up happening on the hottest evening of the summer, but this was not the case. It wasn't too humid, it was sunny and it was somewhere in the 70's. I made my way down Elm Street past the walkers and slower runners and found my way somewhere towards the front. Of course, I have no business being in the front of a race like that with such a field, but you learn from experience that almost nobody else does either, so you might as well get up there somewhere so you don't have to run by all of those people who line up for a 6:00 pace when really they are probably going to be running 8's. I found Leslie and Kevin, adequately warmed up. Kevin was going to pace Leslie to her goal 6:36 pace I believe was decided. The first mile is slightly uphill, so the plan was for them to start at a 6:41 first mile. My goal for the first mile, given to me by my coach, was to take the first mile out in 6:35. I hadn't really given much thought as to how I was going to accomplish this, but very quickly decided that I should probably try and hang with them and then maybe speed up a bit as we approached the first mile. They were then going to take off for the faster second mile, and I would hold my own pace as long as I could. Ok, plan decided on in 20 seconds while listening to the National Anthem. Done.

Did I mention I can't stand 5K's? Because it's true. I'd rather be at the start of a half marathon. They don't hurt nearly as much. I am absolutely terrible at trying to do anything "fast". Check out my fastest paces over almost any distance. You will find that there is not a huge difference between the paces for the shorter stuff and the longer stuff. This works out well for me for the really long stuff, but it lessens my edge considerably once the races get shorter and shorter. This even goes for biking. My best Ironman bike split speed is only .3mph slower than my best half - unless you count Clearwater, and any of you who have been there should know that it definitely shouldn't count. Of course it is because I hate the short races that they are good for me. I am terrible at speed workouts. I don't like to push the pace, and being in a race makes me push it harder than I would on my own. I just had to remind myself that it would be over quick. Although my memory told me that even 20 little minutes of trying to run as fast as you can may feel like an eternity.

The crowds were lined up and finally, the gun was fired and we were off. I had no recollection of how to try and run fast. I accidentally ran a 6:52 mile as part of a workout a few weeks before Lake Placid, only because I didn't know what a 7:15 felt like, and of course destroyed the rest of the workout by doing so. But ever since I raced, my training runs have been at abysmally slow paces. Part of it was the foot, sure. And then part of it was the raging blisters I got as a result of adjusting my foot strike a bit to not make the foot hurt. Inside my racing flats was a sea of band-aids and athletic tape. I didn't feel like I deserved to be wearing racing flats, but my training shoes were causing the blisters in the first place. I don't know what else the problem is, but lately I just haven't been able to run much better a pace than what others might consider fast walking. So I didn't know what to expect it to feel like when I suddenly tried to run a 6:35 mile... and follow it up with two more, hopefully not much slower ones.

I don't know if Kevin planned it this way, but it was really easy to see him since he opted to wear an orange shirt. It was probably just because orange is his favorite color, but at least I could follow him without much trouble. When we all first took off, I think I spent most of the time trying to get a good rhythm going, trying to think about my form and not dropping my arms like I tend to do, and keeping my eyes down on the ground in front of me in the hopes I wouldn't trip over a manhole or someone else's shoes. Kevin and Leslie took off in front of me and I didn't try and catch up right away. Kevin was wearing a Garmin that would tell him his pace, but I figured that in the beginning it might take a few minutes to settle in, so I opted to hang back. Or maybe it was just that I couldn't keep up. I'm not sure. What I do know is that for once I didn't want to take the first mile out way too fast and have to blame my bad race on that.

My heart rate was rising, and I was still trying to run my own approximation of fast while gauging the people around me. Somewhere early on this guy in jeans and a polo shirt ran by, bent over at the waist with his hands hanging close to his knees. He zoomed through the crowd ahead of me and I never saw him again. If that guy actually ran the whole race and finished that much faster than I did, I may have to quit running.

We approached the clock at the first mile and I saw the seconds ticking closer to that 6:35. Leslie and Kevin had appeared to slow down earlier and I was slowly catching up. I crossed the mile 1 marker right at my goal pace and right on their heels, just in time for them to take off. I suppose I could've followed, but I didn't think there was any way I could hang on, so I let them go. We made a left towards the one water station on the course. I opted to bypass the water, because what good could it have done me over such a short race? We got to enjoy some downhills at this point and I tried to figure out how I should approach the second mile. Net downhill, might get some time back. But could also try and go way to fast and just wind up suffering in the 3rd mile and having to slow way down. I didn't want to blow up. I also didn't want a really slow time. And why the heck did my stomach feel so weird?

I let out a relieving burp that was loud enough for another guy passing me to give me a nod as if to say, good one. That seemed to have relieved some of the pain, but it didn't completely convince me that the evening would pass without my spewing applesauce all over Canal Street. Since the second mile was more downhill, I reasoned it shouldn't hurt as much and maybe I should try and not destroy myself now so that I could go for it in the last mile. So I tried to find something that was genuinely uncomfortable, but not painful. We were approaching the sign for mile 2 and I saw the clock tick past 13:10. So much for even splits. My eyesight is good, so it was still a ways off and it was somewhere between 13:20 and 13:25 when I crossed. All I could think about was the fact that most of the people I know run that kind of pace for a half marathon, and there I was struggling to maintain it only two miles into a 3-mile race. Why can I not figure out this running thing?

My legs started to burn as I am also blessed with an apparently complete inability to clear lactate when it builds up in hard efforts. It also seems to kick in at extraordinarily slow paces. I wondered for a minute if I'd have to slow to maybe a 9-minute pace. Up in the distance I had my eye on the tallest building in the state of New Hampshire: a grand total of 21 stories. I knew the finish line was just beyond that, so the closer it was, the closer I was to being done. Unfortunately, it still seemed incredibly far away. I pressed on. The minute or two where I was considering giving up had passed, and I just kept on moving, eyes focused ahead and waiting for the left-hand turn that would take us back up to the finish. The only good news at that point was that I wasn't getting passed by tons of people, so at least I hadn't gone out way too fast only to fade in the end.

Finally, the turn approached. The good news? I was almost done. The bad news? Standing between me and the finish was by far the biggest hill on the course, marking an almost straight uphill finish before a bit of a level-off in the home stretch. The better news was that I actually had something left in the tank to actually run up the hill rather than sputter and die, as would be my normal result. I even got to pass some people before I neared the crest and started feeling like I was going to puke. I passed the 3-mile clock and noted that it was 20-something. I was supposed to go 20:35, but the finish line appeared way too far in the distance for me to get there in time. I tried one last time to run faster to the finish, but like always, that attempt failed. I actually let out a little smile as I noticed my aunt and uncle, Conor's parents, cheering from the sidelines. I crossed the line in 21:22, a 6:53 average pace.

I guess I should be glad that it is 2 minutes faster than I ran in November at my first race of the year, the first step in a long road back. But all I could really think about was how 3 years ago I ran it two minutes faster. Where did that speed go? Is it still in there somewhere? If it is, why can't I find it? I was more demoralized to learn later after looking through some old training logs that I ran almost the exact same time for a 5K in 2003, when I had no idea what the heck I was doing. So I feel like I'm like 6 years behind in training now and have to start over. But I guess then that would put me only 3 years away from being fast again. I don't know, I guess I've been thinking about it too much. I would also just like to say that although I am personally very disappointed that I ran a 21:22, I do not think that is a crappy time for just anyone. These are only my personal standards, and it is based on the fact that I know I've done better before and I just can't seem to figure out how exactly I was able to do that. Also wondering if there is some sort of mental block in my brain or if maybe someone was slipping some sort of illegal-yet-athletically-enhancing drug into my Wheaties back then. You see, I'm not allowed to eat Wheaties anymore...

But anyway, these were thoughts reserved for later on, when I was alone and had too much quiet time to mull over why I suck so much. And just so you know, I am hard enough on myself that in 2007 when I ran 20:05, I thought that sucked too. After spending a few minutes with my hands on my sweaty knees and waiting for the vomit urge to pass, I was able to congratulate Leslie on her race, coming in just over 20 minutes. She had been aiming for 20:30 I believe, but her pacer knew that she could do better, and she did. She probably could've run even faster than that. When I at least could still see them she looked like it was easy. Of course at the time my own heart rate was about 183.

We stood and watched the runners come across by the hundreds. Soon enough I spotted Johnny, easy enough to spot because he is 6'4". He had a smile on his face, and he seemed to have actually enjoyed it, telling us how he had the theme from Rocky to get him through. I know what I said about iPods during races, but maybe I should consider it. He finished in 24:45, 7:58 pace. For a guy who never really tried to run fast and certainly isn't built like a runner, I was quite proud of him. He might even do another one. We somehow missed Katy, even though we were still waiting when she crossed, but she had gone about 15 seconds per mile faster than her goal, so she was also quite happy. It was fun to have both of them there.

Now that it was time to walk some I had to start limping because of my foot. For whatever reason, it hurts when I walk but not when I run. I guess it would be a lot worse the other way around, but it'd still be nice if it just didn't hurt at all. At least the blister shielding I had done seemed to have worked. We went out to celebrate Leslie's great race, all feeling more tired than you would think after a mere 3-mile race. Oh, and Conor did finish. I think it was about 34 minutes. I am not sure if he is going to make a habit of these, but I'm pretty proud of him, too.

In the days since there has been more training, including my first 6-hour ride in quite a while. There has been more berating myself about the crappy running, as well as going back and forth between never wanting to run another 5K and trying to do one every week so that maybe, someday I might actually get better at them. The night of the race I also literally didn't fall asleep at all due to the caffeine I took beforehand. You take caffeine at 6am before a 7am race, no problem. Not so much when you take the caffeine at 5:30pm. Whenever I'm tired I also tend to get a lot more irritated and that didn't help my fixating on the race performances. That took me a couple of days to recover from. Not sure I'm actually quite there yet even now. I have felt like I'm in a fog or something during all of my training. My legs feel like they have lead weights on them when I try and run. My pace now seems about where it was in November and December. I just want to know what it feels like to get off your bike and actually have the slightest bit of confidence in your running ability, instead of wondering how long it's going to take this time before you crack. Maybe someday I'll get to find out.

Oh, and yes. I really can make a 5K race report that long.