Thanksgiving 5K Race Report

 Way back in the year 2008 I started running races, including the Ayer Fire Department 5K on Thanksgiving day.  Every Thanksgiving day since I've run the same race, until this year when it was canceled due to the pandemic.  Being stubborn, perhaps even a bit obstinate, I wasn't going to let that stop me from continuing my streak of running a 5K on Thanksgiving day.  But how to do that when all races have been canceled?

The remainder of this post will make more sense if you remember what it was like to be a kid.  A simple game of whiffle ball in the street wasn't just a game a whiffle ball, it was frequently the 7th game of the world series.  So with my tongue firmly in my cheek and imagination on overdrive, I humbly submit my race report for this year's Windham Turkey Trot 5K.

This race was initially conceived a couple years ago, when I observed that the shortest loop I could run near our weekend getaway was very close to a 5K distance, give or take a few hundred feet.  It's hilly, has a couple good mountain views when the weather is clear, and goes right by the pond.  A scenic and challenging course indeed!

A couple days ago I appointed myself race director.  Due to the pandemic and lack of any parking at the start/finish line, entries were strictly capped at one runner on a first come first served basis.  Of course, I signed myself up a nanosecond after registration opened.

Now at this point it should be mentioned that people outside of the USA have read my blog and know that I'm a runner, which means I'm a world famous runner.  Normally, at they Ayer 5K the streets are lined with hundreds of my fans cheering me on.  They cheer on the other runners too, but it's a poorly kept secret that I'm their favorite.

Once again the pandemic is interfering with things, and I had to ask all my fans and the residents of Windham not to come out and cheer me on at this year's 5K.  I was humbled at how they responded.  Not a single person was anywhere to be seen along the entire course!

In honor of the canceled fire department 5K I'd normally be running, the dry fire hydrant at the side of the pond was chosen as the start/finish line.  At some rather random time in the early afternoon, I toed the start line, counted down, started my watch, and off I went.

The course starts out flat for a few hundred feet, until it goes past the manmade dam that formed the pond.  At that point it dips slightly, goes around a curve, and then steeply uphill.  That's followed by a steep downhill, then another steep uphill that leads out to the main paved road.  Up until there it's a rather soft and squishy surface due to the rain falling on the gravel road.

In my best days, I could never maintain a run up these steep hills which frequently exceed a 10% grade.  In my rather anemic condition, a casual walk uphill is a hard effort, and I only jog on the downhills.  My target time was about 55 minutes, which is not quite twice as long as it took for me to run a 5K a year ago, when my hemoglobin (Hgb) was at the low end of normal.

Allow me to go off on a tangent and say I don't understand anemia.  Due to all the chemotherapy I've received this year, my Hgb had dropped from the mid 13s down to the low 11s, or about a 20% drop.  This is considered mild anemia.  I'd reasonably expect my runs to take about 20% longer, but in practice it's closer to 100%.  Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way.

Anemia is considered life threatening when Hgb drops to about 6.5.  Below that the blood can't get enough oxygen to vital organs and they begin to fail.  Using that as a reference point, when my Hgb is 13.5 I'm about 7 units above what's needed to just maintain life.  At 11.1 (my last reading) there's only about 4.6 units to spare.  When viewed that way, and considering it's more difficult to maintain high heart rates during chemo, it suddenly makes sense that my running times have almost doubled.  I'm not a doctor, just a curious cancer patient and these are the things I think about when I'm not feeling well, have internet access, and too much time to think about such things.

Back to the 5K.  Once out on the main road it alternates between uphill and steep uphill until approximately the halfway point.  Then it flattens out for a short bit and goes steeply downhill.  The best views are right around the start of the downhill, but due to the weather visibility was limited.  Still, it was scenic to look at the hillside not far away and see a layer of clouds near its summit.  Down below the hill at the bottom of the valley is the road I'd be turning onto shortly.

I normally fly down this hill, but today I was content, perhaps overjoyed that gravity allowed me to manage a slow jog for more than a minute.  At the bottom of the hill, a left turn puts me back on the gravel road that goes through the valley and back towards the start/finish line.

This is a mostly flat section of gravel road that I usually cover near the end of any number of routes I run in the area.  It's a stretch of road associated with exhaustion near the end of a run, combined with the adrenaline rush of knowing the finish is near.  I started alternating running with walking, being careful not to put myself too deep into the red zone that would cause consequences later.  Suffice to say I was leading a 5K for the first time in my life (and being the only entrant, bringing up the rear at the same time), and the adrenaline was making me go faster than I normally would on a routine run.

I crossed the finish line in a record setting time of 53:02.  That's the nice thing about being the only runner in a race that's never been run before: If you finish you're guaranteed to set a record.  After crossing the finish line, a heated dispute erupted between me, the runner and me, the race director.

This course was not formally measured before hand.  It was decided by the race director that the start and finish should be at the hydrant for simplicity, and if the race distance wasn't exact it wouldn't matter because all runners have to run the same distance.

But this course turned out to be slightly long.  Me, the runner, argued that it would be closer to 5K if the finish line was at the utility pole before the hydrant, and the several hundred feet of extra distance makes comparisons with other 5K times difficult.  Me, the race director said that the finish line was chosen before the start of the race, and if I didn't shut up I'd be forced to disqualify myself for arguing with the race director.  Geeze, what a dictator that guy is.

Even with the extra distance, I beat my time goal by about two minutes.  The weather was also weird because at the start it was raining lightly with fog blowing off of the pond.  Out on the main road there was pale blue sky overhead and hints of sunshine.  But back at the finish it was still foggy, and as I write this not too far from the finish line it is decidedly cloudy and foggy.  This isn't the first time this has happened.  It's like our weekend getaway has one of those cartoon clouds semi-permanently lingering over it.

And that was my Thanksgiving day 5K for 2020, extending my streak to 13 consecutive years.  In a way, the pandemic worked out well for me this year.  I tend to wake up with a benadryl hangover and don't move too well until the anti-inflammatories kick in.  It would take some planning and effort to get out the door and be ready for an 8am race start in another town.  Being able to walk to the start line at my leisure in the afternoon worked out really well for me this year.

It's strange, but even though this is largely make believe, just having the idea that I would race a 5K on Thanksgiving day gave me something to look forward to, and just like an actual race I pushed harder than normal, and even harder still when the finish line came into sight.