To quote, as near as I can remember, Pippin from The Two
Towers movie, I am, “sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned
comforts,” taking my time with a large bowl of ice cream before getting serious
again tomorrow about removing more of my unnecessary fat, the enemy of
speed. I won the corporate challenge 800
meter tonight in an OK time of 2:11.5, leading it from the gun to the
tape. Tonight’s race, however nice it
was to win, was not the highlight of KCCC for me this year, but it was the one
I lost on Tuesday. The Mile.
Since I started racing again in April I have run some decent
times that I have been very happy with considering my relative lack of training,
a couple of barely sub-18 5ks and a 1:24 half marathon. Oh, and I ran that 5:03 1600m for the company
mile tryout a couple of weeks ago. All
of these were nice confidence boosters that I have been very happy with, but
nothing that has really stood out dramatically.
The half marathon was a real brutal struggle for the last 5 miles when I
felt like my lack of training really hurt me, but I was nevertheless able to
hang tough and to my utter surprise take my co-worker and running buddy Troy in
the last half mile of that race. Troy
and I see-saw back and forth against each other year in and year out, and in
the half marathon the teeter-totter tipped in my favor. Truthfully, he had burned the fuel too hot in
the early miles and he was really used up by the end of the race. In the mile though, I had no confidence at
all that I would even have a remote chance to beat Troy. On tryout day he had run a very solid 4:49 to
my 5:03. Fourteen seconds is an eternity
in a mile race.
Nevertheless, I pictured myself running sub-75 quarters and
I wondered how much, if any, fitness lift I might have gained from racing the
half marathon as well as from running 15 miles this past Saturday morning. Why not give it a shot. I resolved that I would do whatever it took
to hang onto Troy through 1200 and let the chips fall where they may. Sometimes in those scenarios where the chips
fall is that place of deep oxygen debt and lactic acid buildup where you can
barely move your legs, and that makes for a very long, slow, uncomfortable,
unsatisfying and even humiliating last lap in front of one’s friends and
co-workers. I decided to risk it
anyway. There was no way of telling
where I was really at in my running physiology without going to the limit. If you don’t touch the limit, you don’t know
where it is!
Troy and I lined up next to each other on the inside lane
for the waterfall start 9 or 10 meters behind the “normal” starting line
because this race would be a true mile, not a 1600. When the gun went off I took off at what I
felt was a rather leisurely pace, basically inviting Troy to go around me and
take the lead. He did not. I led the race through a fairly slow first
200 meters and when I heard old Andy (my high school coach and the PA
announcer) call the 38-second split I picked up the pace a bit. Still, we came through the first 409 meters
in a rather easy 76 seconds. And then
Troy took off.
So I thought, OK, here we go. To me it felt like he was really surging and
for a split second I doubted my ability to hang onto him, but my will was set
beforehand and I clung to him for dear life.
We came through the second quarter in a much quicker 72 seconds and then
he seemed to wilt at about the same time I felt like I was actually beginning
to hit rhythm. So the lead changed
again.
It felt like I was pushing hard into the third lap now, and
as we passed through 1000 meters something happened. Something wonderful. Here I feared would be where I would start to
feel my lack of conditioning and the beginning of my doom, but what I felt
instead was completely different. Oh, at
this moment I did begin to feel the burning in my legs. I could feel the lactic acid
accumulating. But! Despite the increase in discomfort I also
felt strangely like I could push through it.
I felt like “what it takes” was going to be there, and although it would certainly
hurt before the end, I could handle it and I could race another 600 meters
without descending completely into the pit of iron legs despair. I think it was about then I first thought about
winning it.
Although I was trying to push that third lap hard, it was
nevertheless only a 74 (being the third lap, however, 74 feels like 70!), and
that pesky D-1 runner from Tennessee was still hanging on. He told me after the race that I *almost*
dropped him back there, but my surge wasn’t quite enough. We hit the gun lap with me still in the lead
and determined to press my advantage even harder. I gave it everything I had in an aerobic gear
for the next 300 meters, but still he hung on.
I could feel him behind me and I started to kick with 100 meters to go. So did he!
And then it was like one of those slow motion movie scenes. I was running as fast as I could under the circumstances,
but seemingly centimeter by centimeter Troy came even with me, and then he was
just a shoulder ahead of me, and then maybe a meter, and then we crossed the
line…. Ahh, so close. 0.35 seconds separated us. I absolutely hate losing races that I could
win, but it has been impossible to be disappointed with this one.
In many ways, this was one of the most fun races I have run
in many many years. To duel a guy whom I
like and respect for a full four minutes and fifty four seconds, was just pure
joy. This is what I love about running,
about racing. I feel like we pushed each
other and pulled each other and challenged each other the whole way and in the
final analysis it was the battle itself that was a victory for me. In my mind I really had no business running a
4:54 mile this week. As I have written
before (quoting a friend of mine, actually), there are no flukes in this sport,
and guys who are not 4:54 guys cannot run 4:54 miles. Period.
Still, this race felt like a major breakthrough for me for where I am. It tells me that I am progressing quickly in
returning to the shape I was in many months ago before surgery, and it tells me
that I probably yet have a lot of headroom for improvement since I have not
really trained very hard. I am more
proud of this mile, even though it was a second place finish, than I am of
several races that I have won. Seeking
my limit and finding that it was a lot further out there than I thought it was,
losing a hard fought tactical battle to a respected opponent while giving it my
all, taking risk and being bold, that feeling in the third lap when I knew I
could race it the whole way – all of these things made this little race really
special to me. It was a dandy.
