This was my 4th 5K since I started running them in early July. While there were plenty of new things to observe from my usual spot at the back of the pack, many of the sights and sounds are becoming familiar and almost comfortable.
Volunteers with SEFCU shirts and international orange flags waved me into what used to be the Washington Avenue lot, where I used to catch the shuttle bus to downtown and the Smith Building (http://www.emporis.com/en/il
Everywhere I looked, sprites and elf-boys were warming up, nary a Clydesdale or SFT to be seen. Always amazes me that these people run before the race to warm up, then run the race, and then run after the race to cool down – my take on this is that they all either drink way too much coffee or are seriously addicted to endorphins, or both.
The high school track teams were there, too, from both Colonie and Averill Park – must be poorer school districts, because they all seemed to be wearing cotton t-shirts and nylon gym shorts - I didn’t see a single color-coordinated mid-riff baring lycra running outfit anywhere.
I picked up my race number – 305 – at the tent, and was impressed that the tear off tag had a computer printed label on it, complete with my name and vitals. No goody bag this time, though, so I couldn’t add to my growing collection of sawdust bars and chiropractic coupons.
They did give out t-shirts – but were out of XL by the time I got there at 8:40. I couldn’t figure this one out – I mean, there were like only 2 of us big enough to wear XL and the box was empty – but they still had scads of the XT (extra-tiny) sizes worn by sprites and elf-boys. Go figure. Maybe they were doubling up – you know, one sprite plus elf-boy inside one XL shirt? Since I plan to donate these shirts to a downtown food pantry which gives the shirts to those in need it didn’t really matter, so I got a plain “L”.
And, I always try to follow Coach Andrea’s very fluid advice – drink until 30 minutes before race time and then stop. Actually it’s more like drink until 30 minutes before the race and then “go”, which is to say there were lots of porta potties at this event – and the seemingly endless lines of people waiting to use them.
On Your Mark….
Having been to 4 of these now, I am beginning to understand lemmings. Responding to some unseen, unheard command, the mass of runners slowly amoeba’d over to the start line. I cut to the side of the road, walked along the grasss and worked my way to the back. Once I got there and scrutinized my fellow “back of packers” (BP'ers))– and tried to figure out if there was anyone I might be able to beat. Turns out I handicap these races about as well as I do the ones at Saratoga, which is to say not well.
At some point, the race director addressed us. At least I think he did – from where I was standing, and given my hearing, it was like listening to the speakers announcing the trains at Penn Station – I know some important information was given out, but I am clueless as to what it was. I knew he was done when the crowd started their version of the “wave” – applause that started at the front of the pack and gradually rippled its way back to me.. I have no clue what I was applauding for, but it seemed the polite thing to do. And then we were off.
Observations from the Back of the Pack
I love races with clearly delineated start lines, because I know exactly when to start the timer on my watch. This one had a very clear grey line - almost looked like duct tape (1000 and 2 uses!) – but probably wasn’t.
This time, the woman with the baby jogger passed me within the first 50 yards – in 2 minutes she was out of sight and I never saw her again.
Took the race-walker about a quarter of a mile before he disappeared from my view – too bad, because he was a nice guy and was very encouraging to all of us BP’ers.
The guy with the purple U Albany shirt tucked into his blue lycra bike shorts kept up his slow but steady jog and pulled away from me each time I stopped to walk – but at least I was color-coordinated!
By the time I had gone a quarter mile - down the dip and under the overpass and up the hill and around the corner to the flats – I pretty much knew who would be keeping me company, and who I would be trying to beat.
The 12 year old boy and girl were first – they were alternately sprinting furiously and then walking – I knew they were inexperienced and that they would quickly fade – and they did. Now – don’t go getting all sympathetic because they were only 12 – lots of kids that young or younger routinely kick my butt – see the results here: http://www.hmrrc.com/View/PDFs
The two teen-aged girls were next – they were wearing long pants, and faded in the first half mile.
And then it was down to the hard core BP’ers. (Back of the Packers)
Eline – 17 yrs old, an exchange student from the Netherlands, currently attending Columbia HS – this was her first race. We’d talk a bit when I‘d catch up to her – and then she would take off running. She kept looking around – just to see who might be gaining on her. More about her later.
Lorrie – petite, another run/walker who told me she didn’t run up hills anymore. She was 57, but her white hair fooled me into thinking she was older. We’d talk a little , too – and then she was gone. More about her later, too.
And for most of the race, 50 yards ahead – another Clydesdale. He was on the run/walk program, too. He was about my size – maybe taller, and looked about 15 years younger. He was with a young lady who looked about his age – maybe a girl friend. She appeared to be a bit faster than he was, but they were pretty much together.
A Word About the Course
Even though I had never run this route before, I knew the course – sort of. It looped past the Washington Avenue lot and then partially around the Harriman Campus, crossed over to the other lane and then circled back to the SEFCU headquarters. I’d driven the road plenty of times – the route was Step 3 in the “Teach Your Children to Drive” program, with Step 1 being the Washington Avenue Parking Lot, and Step 2 being the quiet back streets of our neighborhood. I’d brought both kids over to drive this loop on Sunday mornings when they were ready for a little more speed – 40 mph is terrifyingly fast when you’re just learning and the fastest you have gone so far is a blazing 20 mph.
But, you drive the loop counter-clockwise and we were running it clockwise – what a difference a "way” makes!
I talked about the first mile above. The second mile was pretty flat. The third mile, on the other hand, was not. Shortly after the 2 mile mark, like the South, it rises again. It’s gradual, not steep like the Guilderland Y, but it is steady for maybe a half mile. By someplace in the middle of it, me and Eline and Lorrie and the other guy and his friend were pretty bunched up and doing a lot of walking.
Back to the Race
And then I got perverse. I figured that with all that hill training with Dorie and Donna and Maria, I’d give it a go – and I did. It wasn’t the world’s fastest run, but I caught Eline and Lorrie, and finally, the other big guy. I stayed ahead of them down the dip and under the overpass and up the hill to the final approach. Up ahead, on the right, were a bunch of people cheering and taking my picture – oh, wait – they weren’t cheering for me, or taking my picture – they were cheering for Eline! She crested the hill and put on a burst of speed and flew by me – and there was no way I could keep up with her, even downhill. She beat me by over a minute – and picked up all that time on me over the last quarter mile.
To add insult to injury, Lorrie, Ms “I Don’t Run Up Hills Anymore” apparently had no such qualms about downhills – and she pulled ahead of me and beat me to the finish line, too.
But – I was the faster of the two BP’er Clydesdales – not by much, but by enough.
39:46 by my watch, 487 out of 528 finishers – not a PB, but not a PW (is there such a term?) either. True confession: I had neither the legs, the lungs, nor the guts to stay with or catch Eline and Lorrie. They outsmarted me and outran me - good for them, not so good for me.
And for Your Post Race Dining Pleasure
Bottles of water, oranges, and bagels – bagel pieces, actually. I guess the sprites and elf boys can’t eat a whole bagel, so they broke them into small pieces, you know, like the loaves and the fishes. I know you are supposed to carb up after a race – that the optimum time post- exercise for glycogen replacement is 1 hr. after the end of the race. It’s just that my carb of choice would probably be manufactured by Mr. Adams (Sam Adams, that is) not Mr. Breugger. So I skipped both the snacks and the award ceremony and went to see Duncan (Mr. Donut to you), where I had both the loaf and the fish ( a complete bagel with salmon cream cheese) and washed it down with a cup of coffee – with cream. Which is why I am neither a sprite, nor an elf boy!
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