2006 Turkey Trotter Triumphs

How did my legs learn to do that? I didn't do speedwork or hills in preparation for Ironman. Where did they learn this??

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle up the steep hill I went, quick-stepping it just like I was running up steps. And then, click, at the top - I opened up to let those self-same legs carry me loping down the other side, passing people. Me, passing people, and feeling good.

I had an excellent race today. It almost wasn't. I slept for 11 hours last night only to wake with thoughts - not of racing - but of cleaning the house, doing some lesson planning, walking Piper. And then I remembered that, oh, yes, I had signed up for a race today. Hmm... should I go? Yeah, I'll go.

Hmm... what should I wear? (SO different from Ironman - remember the lists made months in advance and tweaked daily until the hour before the race started? How far I've come.)

When the time came, I hopped in my car, drove an hour, and checked in to the race. I hadn't read any of the literature closely because I'd done this race before (2 years ago) and thought I'd remember all the basics. I didn't.

Thinking that the 5K & 5 Mile races started consecutively, I lined up with the 5k-ers. I even started to run, but overheard a conversation that lead me to conclude that my race, the 5 miler, actually started an hour later (11:00). I stopped my watch - and as inconspicuously as possible - slunk off the course.

So I waited around for an hour, watched the 5k-ers finish. At 10:50 I headed to the starting line. And had my second, "it sorta feels funny" sensation. No one else was at the starting line.

Being that my stellar memory hadn't served well so far, I decided to follow my hunch and look for a different location for the starting line. I had an ah-ha moment when I saw it - about a quarter of a mile away on the other side of the registration building and over a bridge.

After verifying this with approximately five people, I queued up to the starting line and checked out the other runners. Fit, young, yet more seasoned than the really young-looking college kids that had populated the 5k. Then the gun sounded, and I started my watch for the second time today, and was off. Right from the start, I knew that my earlier worries about having lost my competitive streak were in error. I wanted to go fast and hang as far toward the front as I could. And it felt good. To be breathing hard, to be pumping strong.

I swore I was working so hard that my first mile would be a sub-8, but it was 8:06. OK, I thought, 8-minute miles might be a stretch today, but goddammit, I told blogosphere that I'd be close to that, so I will be!

Mile 2 was slower; my split was 16:25. Then I went up that hill. The steep one that allowed me to pass people going up and coming down the other side. And I felt my legs take over. They drove my breathing and instructed my eyes to pick the shortest distance through the curvy forested path. I cut to the inside of those curves whenever possible and lauded myself on my intelligence, all the while also registering how hard I was working. Tightness in my chest, throat and between my shoulder blades. Also I felt my piriformis (AKA butt muscle).

I am working hard and it feels good. Be it resolved that I will leave nothing on this course today.

3 miles: Trisaratops is somewhere doing her 5K today. I wonder how she's doing. She's almost done now.

And I thought - 2 miles to go. I can do this. I decided that I'd hit my watch at the 4-mile mark and open myself up for a final push at a sub-8 split. I passed many people in this mile and found myself marveling at how even my breathing was - theirs sounded so ragged.

4 miles. I began the push. Up a hill, down a grassy knoll, up one side of a creek, down the other end and into the curvy woods for the final time. I had passed everyone easily-passable and was alone. The next people were all in a pack about 50 yards in front of me. I knew I couldn't catch them, and felt myself wanting to slow down, to alleviate the pressure in my chest and throat, to slow my now ragged breathing.

Don't you dare let up! Letting up is not an option. You have this distance in you. You should have another 22 miles in you! Don't you dare let up!

I didn't. I rounded the corner out of the woods and saw the finish chute ahead of me. 39:52 and counting.

I need 40:00. Go!!!

I sprinted, watching the clock and the precious seconds tick away... beeeep, I crossed the mat.

Time? 40:01!

But, I'll give myself that second. I worked hard! Last mile? 7:44. This was not an easy race and/but it felt so good. I'm back. My running is back. This is the new baseline from which I'm starting. It can only go up (well, down time-wise) from here. I'm a racer. That is what I learned today. My body, no - more specifically - my beautiful, beautiful legs love to run. They've been running for so long that the muscle memory just takes over and carries the rest of me right along.

I was prepared to be happy with that time and the euphoria of racing, but then at the end of the chute, I got hardware too. A volunteer pressed a medal into my hand - 1st place female, age 30-39. I got lucky to place with that time, but I'll take it.

Signing off: Triteacher who is a runner again!