I forgot to bring my towel. If you’re a fan of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”, you’ll understand why this is cause for great concern. Luckily for me the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal was a no-show for the race. At the very least, rain was predicted today, so I expected to finish the race soaked, dripping, and in need of a good drying off.
But I got there early and was the first car in the parking area, or so I thought. The parking attendant quickly set me straight and pointed out that everybody else had been parking on the other side of the field, closer to the actual location of the festivities. I am definitely firing on all cylinders today.
This was a small local race. Small is a little less than 200 runners. Local as in about 10 miles away. I could have run from home to the starting line, ran the entire race, then run back home and still not have covered marathon distance.
The course itself is flat by New England standards, with only gentle rolling hills. No climbs higher than about 50 feet would be my guess. And the roads are completely closed off for the race.
On to the race itself. Since I had quite a trail run yesterday and my legs were still recovering from that, I elected to start slowly from near the back of the pack and see how many people I could pass during the race. And we’re waiting for the sound of musket fire to start the race. 20 seconds. 10 seconds. And… he’s reloading the musket. 20 seconds, 10 seconds, and that musket sounds quite a bit like an air horn. We’re off, wet powder be damned.
I take it easy for the first half mile. People around me are panting somewhat heavily, and I’m calmly breathing through my nose. The legs begin to loosen up, and I start ramping up my speed. Mile 1 is complete in 9:30. I start passing people. I’m now taking full breaths at a comfortable rate. I blow past the water stop and Mile 2 is completed in 8:40. This feels like about as fast as I can go and still finish the race without slowing down.
But the course goes downhill and other runners begin to pick up the pace. I do my best to match them and pull away again. Somewhere around here I pass a group of girls from the Groton Dunstable track team. I must be in better shape than I thought, I just passed a track team! But I’m breathing heavy, trying not to gasp for air, and the legs are starting to get an unfamiliar burning sensation. I’m pushing deeper into my limits than I’m accustomed too.
As the finish line draws into sight, I hear a loud pounding of footsteps chasing me down from behind. Now, it’s not the Bugblatter Beast, but the Groton Dunstable track team passing me by. My ego forces me to try to keep pace. I realize how this looks. A 40-something guy chasing around some high school girls with his tongue hanging out.
And my finish time is approximately 27:20, unofficially based on my watch. That’s just a few seconds slower than my best 5K time. So on the one hand I basically matched my best time without giving it my best effort. On the other hand, I’m sure I could have found 20 seconds in that first mile and finished under 27 minutes. I’m already eager to run another 5K this fall.
In the end, the rain held off for the race and it was a pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning and have the opportunity to hang out with a few friends from the running club.
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