After Action Report: Spring

My spring season is (obviously) over. Below are the goods, the bads, what I learned and where I plan to go from here...

The Good:
- I rarely, if ever, felt any lingering tweaks from my old injury.
- I also didn't get any new injuries.
- I set a personal best for 10k - 30:52 - and, in doing so, ran very good marks (PRs?) in 4-miles and 5-miles.
- I had fun.

The Bad:
- I never really got "5k fast", but this was a result of my own doing. In all honesty, I was scared of hurting myself again.
- I didn't set a personal best for ten miles, which was a secret goal I had at the beginning of the season.

Lessons Learned/Reiterated:
- If you want to race fast, run fast races.
- More often than not, it doesn't matter what track workout you do, as long as you're doing it with a group.
- Running bad workouts is okay.
- Running slow on non-workout days is okay. In fact, it is preferred.
- Run routes with hills as often as possible.
- Run with as many different people as possible.
- Run strides everyday.
- Practice running hard on surfaces you plan to race on (i.e. - 3 mile tempos on Hains Point...not the track)
- Attack your weakness. Mine is my speed. 

The most important thing I've learned, and executed, is to not get down on myself for running a bad race. Well, I still do, but certainly not as much as I use to. Running isn't everything. For me, it's just one third of my life. The other two thirds are: job and social life. Be well balanced in all three and you will succeed in all three.

A friend wrote me an e-mail and underscored this point and made a few others:

"At least from my perspective, it's been great to see your balance this past year. It seems that you aren't letting "bad" performances get to you like they may have years ago..." and added  "As we get older, the idea of chasing PRs can cloud what may otherwise be a spectacular performance. I know you know it, but we can only run as fast as we can on that day...Of course, even "nailing" the taper, and doing everything right, there's still the human element. How much can we get from our bodies on a given day...As we get older we move further away from times. Time will always be an element to our running, and we can gauge ourselves on courses, age groups, whatever. But what will never go away are the man to man battles of every day running."


What's Next:
- I am traveling back and forth to Maine to work on a TV series for Animal Planet. Naturally, my training will take a hit, but I'm sort of in an "active rest" phase right now. I hope to be back training hard by early July.

- Falmouth Road Race (Aug) - I'm entered.
- RnR Philadelphia Half (Sept) - PR time.
- Twin Cities Marathon (Oct) - I'm due.
- Break
- USATF 12k Champs in NoVA (Nov)
- USATF Club XC Champs in Bend, OR (Dec)

And finally, below is a brief training recap:

After Broad Street, I took 6 days off from running.
Last Sunday I ran an easy 7 miles with Luff in Cabin John.
On Tuesday, I ran 7 with Jordan at Lake Frank.
On Wednesday, I ran about 8.5 with Karl Dusen, who is returning from injury.
On Saturday, I ran 10.5 with Luff, Dusen and Colin from The Line.
On Sunday (today), I ran 10-miles hard in Patapsco State Park*

*Patapsco always kicks my butt. I've been running there now for close to 15 years and unless I run there often, I always have a rude awakening. I ran a loop I use to time trial with my teammates back in the day and while I was finishing up I ran into Falls Road Running''s Ed and Brennan, who must have thunk me a half-crazed lunatic. With endorphins pouring off my brow I explained to them that I was seeing how fast I could run an old loop. Their expressions were priceless.

More Hiking & Camping

Two years ago, myself and three cohorts traveled to South Dakota's Badlands National Park to explore the vast American prairie and of course the strange landscape known as badlands.

Recently a video surfaced on the internets, which details our adventure.

Said video is embedded below. Enjoy. Or don't.





Badlands Klim offline edit 042713 from Jake Klim on Vimeo.

The Red Fox vs. The Black Bear

I read somewhere once that walking or hiking is a great form of cross training. That's good, because I hate water running and haven't owned a bike since I was 13. So, I've been doing a lot of hiking - through the woods, naturally. 

May in Maryland brings out all sorts of wildlife. On one such hike, I saw a *real* red fox vixen and her two kits. In all my years sniffin' about for foxeses, I had yet to see kits. I explored a few other places nearby; scouting them out for future runs, but didn't see much more in terms of wildlife. To that end, I decided to go camping on Friday night in Shenandoah National Park. I pored through my camping books and over maps that detail various treks that crisscross the Blue Ridge Mountains and found a suitable loop in the 11-mile Hazel Creek Trail near mile marker 35 off Skyline Drive. 

I bombed out to the mountains on Friday morning and by 12:30pm, my car was at my back. It was already warm, but the crisp mountain air was keeping my sweat at bay. I rolled up my sleeves, heaved my 45 pound pack atop my back and I proceeded into the wilderness. I was eager to see wildlife, specifically black bears. In fact, that's why I came here. I've been hiking/camping in the Shenandoah before, but I had never seen a black bear. In fact, I'd only seen one in the wild before and that was in western Maryland during college cross country pre-season camp. Naturally, as I descended down the trail, my ears and eyes were alert. I'd be damned if I wasn't going to see me a bear! Not less than a quarter mile into my journey I heard a crash to my left. Things happened fast. At first I thought it was a black lab, which normally, had I been on the trails of Cabin John, would have been the case, but lab it was not. My right hand reached for my trusty Buck knife, while my left hand fumbled for the small hatchet, which dangled from my pack. My third hand searched for my camera. The black bear crashed through the brambles and sprinted to my left. I had startled it. Back closer to the trail, I noticed the brambles move close to where the bear had just left. Was there another?  A cub? Then, not wanting to get tunnel vision, I swiveled my head to the right and scanned the horizon in search for other bruins. My throat dried and I did my best not to pee my pants. I did my best. I slowly backed away, while always keeping one eye on the massive bulk of black mass off to my left. I stood motionless for a few minutes, then turned my trusty knife around in my hand before finally placing it back in its sheath. I was clear. I cautiously proceeded on, still not sure whether another bear was laying low in the brambles ahead. There wasn't. It was exciting to say the least and I laughed to myself having accomplished my objective just .2 miles (I had my GPS on because I was curious to know what type of pace I keep hiking hill and dale with a pack) into the hike. 

I proceeded to descend deep into the valley, traipsing through muck and crossing swollen brooks until I reached my destination - Hazel Creek. By now, I was soaked in sweat, so I ripped off my shirt and dunked my warm head into the cold creek. A fly fisherman meandered up the path - the first human being I had seen since leaving my car - and told me that a storm was coming through around 4 or 5pm. I looked at my watch. I had about an hour or so to find a campsite and get to work. The fly fisherman and I traded leads a few times while traversing thigh deep Hazel Creek. He was looking for a calm pool of water while I looked for a flat piece of earth. I cross the creek a few more times (at which point my boots were soaked through) until finally reaching suitable place to pitch a tent. I'd hiked about 6.5 miles. I got to work, always keeping an eye on the sky, until everything was in order. Then I waited. I had a handful of magazine articles I wanted to read so I grabbed one of the two cans of PBR I had chilling in the cold creek and began to chillax against an old rotten log. I cracked another beer, read another article and stared at the mountainside waiting for an army of black bears to raid my camp. I smiled and took a pull of bourbon. All was alright. Hours passed and soon it was time to eat dinner - dehydrated chicken and mashed potatoes with a slice of pita bread...and bourbon. The first drops of rain began to fall around 7:30, so I grabbed my things and burrowed into my tent. I was tired from the hike and in another hour, after I'd thumbed through a few pages of my US Army Survival book, I yawned and passed out inside by bag. I awoke a few times to the crack of thunder and flashes of lightning. If the bears conspired against me now, I'd be done for. I shivered. Water was slowly making it's way into the tent. That was inevitable. I finally awoke "for real" at 6:30am and began the always arduous process of emerging from my comfortable and cozy tent. I chowed on some oatmeal and coffee, struck camp and began the long, upward march out of the valley. A few hours later I arrived, soaked to the bone in sweat, back at my car. I had seen only two other parties of hikers on my way out. Fairly remote. By now it had started to rain (again), but I was interested in attempting one more day hike before I left the mountains - this time without my backpack. I drove another 15 miles into the park and descended down towards the Rapidan Camp, which is where President Hoover escaped Washington's humidity and politicking and instead fished for trout and entertained close pals. The "Brown House" (i.e. - not the White House) was cool to visit, but the hike was far more popular than the 11-mile loop I’d completed earlier that morning. After 4 miles and 0 bears, I returned to my car and made the sad trek back to civilization. My body was aching from all the hiking, but it was a *good* ache. 

So, yup, hiking is great for cross training.

Race Report: Broad Street Run

I believe in the taper. I do. I feel as if it's a magical thing.

In fact, I think it's THE most important element of a training cycle. Workouts can help project and predict the time you're going to run, but the taper is mysterious and, if done right, It truly enables one's body to get the most bang as a result of all the hard work one has put in over the past x weeks or x months. So, I was relying on both the taper when I laced up the flats for yesterday's Broad Street Run.

The week started out with a two miler at 5k race pace (9:45) on the towpath. I took Tuesday off and then ran a pedestrian 7 miles in Cabin John on my birthday, Wednesday, May 1. I saw a barred owl mom and a barred owl chick. No big deal.

Sometime around Tuesday I started to develop the beginning symptoms of a cold. It's always difficult to know whether those early symptoms ever amount to anything, but it was something I had to keep an eye on nonetheless.

I ran a paltry 4 miles on Thursday morning with Catherine. I had gone out on Wednesday (per my birthday) and Thursday morning came soon - too soon. My head was pounding and I felt terrible all day. Pathetic. I'm 33 years old now...and I can tell all you youngins that "drinking (on special occasions that is) don't come easy no more..." In addition, it appeared I was, indeed, coming down with a head cold. I decided to lay low. On Friday I ran just 5 miles and took Saturday off. That morning, circa dawn, I awoke and bee-lined it 4-hours north on I-95 to Chatham, NJ for Outlaw's wedding. I was a "good boy" (per the Sunday morning race) and left the reception around 4:00pm without vice on breath and without dance in legs for a 2-hour drive back south to Philly. 

I spent the night in a bed and breakfast with a cat named Queen Bess, among others, and woke up at 5:40am for the big race. I arrived at the start, which was 3 miles from the B&B, around 6:50, easily grabbed a parking space and proceeded to pass the time. I got a 2-mile warm-up in and then meandered my way to the start. It's a very well organized race, but the massive number of people - 40,000 runners - makes getting ANYwhere a hell of an ordeal.

My goal was to go out aggressive, but not stupid. At Pike's Peek, I had let Outlaw and Wiggy get away from me. Maybe it was for the best, since I ended up setting a PR, however, I wanted to be a bit more aggressive and rely on the magical taper. If that meant going out in 4:55 to join a pack, so be it. The goal time was 50:30-50:40. That said, I had no idea how I would feel given the fact I had a cold/was coming down with a cold/was in the final stages of a very short-lived cold.

I started out just fine and felt very relaxed running through the first mile in 5:01. In fact, I was hardly breathing. The cold was non-existent. Good. I settled into a nice pack and together we hit mile 2 just south of 10:00 (4:58). Our pace then slowed somewhat so I strided ahead (again, I was going to be aggressive). My split at mile 3 (5:05) confirmed my suspicion. For the next two miles I ran alone trying to chase down a line of runners stretched out ahead of me. I sat in 15-20th place. I felt good, but longed for company. I stopped looking at my watch and ran by feel, though each mile marker had a clock so I wasn't running completely blind. 

I was slipping -- ever -- so -- slightly off of that easy-to-grasp 5:00/mile pace, but all was good...for now. City Hall, the symbolic half-way point in the race, drew closer and closer. In actuality, the skyscrapers in question, were actually about 5.5 miles in, which bodes well for head games. I passed 5 miles in 25:19, faster than I had ever split in a 10-mile race before. It was on. I was right on pace, but, in reality, I was really slowing down...and I knew it.

I passed a couple of runners just prior to the half way point, but just before I reached City Hall, I got passed by a Pre-look-alike who was storming ahead at a pace suggesting he had started the race late. He went by me so fast it was hard to lock into his rhythm, so I simply watched him thunder on ahead.  

I hit the 10k a few ticks over 31:30, but shortly after that my wheels began to come off. Although I didn't look at my watch, I knew it was happening and there was nothing I could do about it. I weighed the decision to grind, or relax and grind later. A runner went by me around this time and I told myself I'd stay with him regardless. I stayed with him for awhile, but, in the end, I could not hang. I watched as he caught "Pre" and I watched as they slowly extended the real estate between their heals and the tips of my toes.

This begs the question - why were my wheels coming off? I could understand if this were happening at 8.5 or 9, but not at mile 6. After all, I had run a 10k in 30:52 just two weeks earlier so surely I could run 5:05 pace for at least 8 miles? This was a flat, fast course with long uphills and long downhills...and there was even a slight tailwind (at times - in fact, it was mostly coming in from the east or my left) a la Pike's Peek, but alas, my performance thus far wasn't matching my performance from 2 weeks ago. Again, why?

My left quad started to hurt and my breathing began to get more vocal. I was dying a slow death, but I still had 15+ minutes to run. There were a few instances in which I thought I was going to throw up and began to think that if I did that that might be the one saving grace from this race - I have never thrown up in a race before so if I did today, it would at least underscore the fact I was going for it. The going got so tough that I considered dropping out (to be honest I ALWAYS think about dropping out), but I quickly slapped that idea out of my head. By the time I hit mile 8, my legs had rested some, so again I attempted to pick up the pace and get back on schedule. My "surge" would last for maybe a minute, or two, but no more than that. Each time I tried to get out of my rut I would find myself in another one, sometimes it was worse. It felt as if my 10-mile pace had slowed to marathon pace. Part of me didn't want to know what my splits; I just wanted to get back in it and get to the finish line as fast as I could (my GPS watch later indicated that these 3 "rough" miles were covered at 5:20 pace).

Finally, mile 9. A bystander indicated I was in 17th place. About a half mile later, another runner stormed by me. I wasn't going to be passed by someone in the last mile so I did my best to stay with him, but that effort truly exhausted me. I could keep trucking ahead, but I couldn't move any faster than the pace I was running. I had no kick and slinked my way to the finish line - 51:41. 

A few stats:

I covered my last 5 miles in 26:20 - 5:16 pace. Ugly.

It was my best ten miler since coming back from injury, but I should have run at least 30-seconds faster. 

It was 44-seconds faster than my performance at Cherry Blossom, but CB was windy (30-seconds slow by my unscientific calculation).

Interestingly, the McMillan calculator (and at least one other) suggest my time from Pike's Peek "equals" my performance at Broad Street. 

I still don't know why I died so quickly once I hit mile 7. My mileage has been pretty sparse as of late, but I'm also feeling quite fresh. 

Despite the result, I am happy I "went for it" and wouldn't have run the race any other way...well, maybe I would have...maybe. In all honesty I was content in my execution despite that fact things didn't go as planned.

I'd like to think the cold and heavy travel day prior to the race didn't impact my performance (and I honestly don't think it did), but there was nothing I could really do about that anyway. It's always hard to balance running alongside life things.

Splits:

1. 5:01
2. 4:58
3. 5:05
4. 5:07
5. 5:08
6. 5:08
7. 5:21
8. 5:21
9. 5:18
10. 5:09

The spring season is over.

REPORT: Tail wind?

ENE (tail?) wind tomorrow in Philadelphia...

Broad Street course runs NE to SW

DEVELOPING...

The End of the Spring Season

Last week was meant to be both a rest week and a build week, but I realized part way through that it would be impossible to do both.

On Monday, I ran an easy 6 with Christiam (?!) in the evening. It was good to catch up with my old running pal. We surmised it's been nearly 3-years since we met for a run. Wow!

The next morning I ran an easy 10. The Fox & Deer Trail is at its best this time of year - green, green, green!

On Wednesday I suffered through a 7.5 mile jog. I'm not sure I was tired, but I shut it down early as I didn't want to force it.

On Thursday I got in a measly 7. Again, just tired.

On Friday I met Koonce and together we got in 11 running down to, and around, the Walter Reid Annex trails. The highlight of the run was the beaver we saw motoring its way down Rock Creek.

I took Saturday off as I had to wake up rather early and get on the road. Destination: New York City to participate in Outlaw's bachelor party. That's all I will say about that.

On Sunday, Lavar, Outlaw and a couple of his old teammates ran a hungover 9.5 miles around Queens. I think that's where we were. I had no idea.

So, it wasn't a great week mileage-wise, but I certainly got some rest. Since I hadn't worked out, I decided to get after it on Monday, because I had the day off from work. My plan was to run 2-miles at 5k pace...or as hard as I could, whatever I could muster. I drove down to Old Anglers and warmed up for 4 miles along the ole towpath. Geese and goslings were everywhere, it seemed. Even I, the mean, tough, pipsqueak-squeezing Red Fox let out a compassionate "awww" while jogging past a couple of cute yellow fuzzballs who found refuge underneath the tailfeathers of their parents.  Spring has sprung for sure.

Anyways, I did a couple of strides and some butt kicks then got after it. I took a couple of quick glances at my GPS to ensure I was running fast enough, but then decided to run entirely by feel. I hit the mile in 4:50, but it didn't feel as easy as I would have liked. I set my workout up so that I'd finish next to Great Falls, which offers a few bumps in the towpath and I hoped those bumps might break me out of any funk. A quick glance at my GPS indicated I was slowing down so did my best to toughen up in the last half mile. I finished up in 9:45, which was a little worse than what I was expecting, but I was thankful that I had gotten something hard in nearly a week out from my next race.

The remainder of the week, leading up to the Broad Street Ten Miler on Sunday, will be devoted to rest and recovery. It's (likely) my last race of the spring season and, after my performance at the Pike's Peek 10k last weekend, I hope to run a personal best when I toe the line in Philadelphia.

RACE REPORT: Pike's Peek 10k

(C) CAR

I'm rarely happy after a race. That much is certain. When I finish, I immediately start to think how I could have raced better or how I could have better prepared myself for the event itself. Today was no different, but at least I was smiling...

I had a hunch I'd run well. Part of me thought I'd PR, but my gut said I'd run 31:10-31:20, which would have been adequate given my current fitness. Secretly, however, I wanted to threaten my personal best of 30:56, which I ran on this same course back in 2010. That season, I had already run 14:46, 14:48 (road), 24:46 and 50:56, so running a PR todayt certainly would have been a solid feat since I am nowhere near any of those marks. In fact, the more I thought about it the more I realized how hard it would be. Regardless, I was confident and sometimes confidence is key. The goal was to run 10:00 for the first two miles and then see how I felt. I shared my race plan with Joe Wiegner, who is in the midst of a track season, and Jerry Greenlaw, who has been with me every step of the way this season.

The race started just a couple minutes late and soon 2,500 runners began making their way towards Rockville Pike. I got a terrible start, but I soon found my stride. I checked my GPS ad nauseum during the first half mile, because, having run this race countless times, I knew that going out too hard would impair me later on. After a quarter mile, I found myself in 50th place, behind a handful of women and some teammates. I kept calm as Wiggy and Outlaw moved away from me. Despite every best effort to go out slow, I still hit the half mile in 2:25. I rolled my eyes, lifted my head and snaked through the crowd in an effort to find some open road.

The Outlaw was going for it. I shook my head and drove my arms forward. Wiggy was running like a stallion on quaaludes between us. I hit the mile in 4:55 - a tad fast - but quite comfortable. Dusty Meeker, from Falls Road, was alongside me by now, as was someone named Graham who was donning a Virginia Tech singlet. We worked together to shake the massive chase pack and go after Wiggy, Outlaw et al. I ran mile 2 in 4:54 (9:49) and mile 3 in 4:54 (14:43) and hit 5k in about 15:13, which is the fastest I've run 3.1 miles since 2010. I was certainly *feeling it*, but I knew my endurance was strong and, better yet, that I'd have a great day...IF I could keep it going. Dusty, Virginia Tech and I continued our tempo, but after 4 miles (19:41) I started to tire. I glanced at my GPS and it said I was running 4:56 pace. I backed off just a tad, because I knew I, now, I had a chance to PR, if only I could just keep it going, I did not want to implode. I cruised through 5-miles in 24:46, which matches my PR, but I was losing ground. Wilson Komen, an Ethiopian and a North African came back to me over the last mile or so, but Outlaw was still hanging on ahead. Wiggy, by now, had surged ahead and was running stride for stride with Chris Sloan. They past their old townhouse on the right and I wondered what the former roommates were thinking. "Wake up," I screamed to myself, "stop thinking about stupid shit and get after it." My eyes opened wide and I did my best to try to run down the runners ahead of me. By now, I was in some serious pain. My legs were still working, but my cardio was suffering. It was brilliant. 

Once I hit mile 6, I just drove like hell for the finish line; it was the clock I was after. I ended up running a personal best of 30:52 - 4:58 pace - for 10k, which is without doubt my best race since April 2010 - three years ago. I had done a poor job of racing people during the last two miles, as is evident in my splits - 5:05 and 5:06 AND the fact I couldn't keep up with Dusty and others - but to say I was happy with my result is an understatement. For the first time, in a long time, I am in PR shape again. If the weather cooperates, I should have a good race in store at Broad Street. More importantly most, if not all, of my teammates ran incredible today, the result of a fast course, competitive race (I was 24th) and a slight tail/cross wind.

Pike's Peek Race History: 2007 - 31:29 2009 - 31:22 2010 - 30:56 2012 - 31:32 2013 - 30:52

The Red Fox Magical Forest

"Follow me," said the white rabbit.

Without hesitation I obeyed, but, before I knew it, the rabbit had disappeared somewhere in the green underbrush. 

Upon entering the Red Fox Magical Forest I knew spring was in the process of being sprung. Brilliant sunshine flickered through the still spartan canopy above. Birds of all shapes and sizes chirped and cooed. My eyes grew wide. My legs felt heavy. There was still dirt on my calves from workout I ran the night before...

On Friday night, I met the Outlaw, whose becoming my chief training partner, in Crystal City for PACERS' weekly summer race series. My goal (our goal) was to run 5:00 pace; ideally the pace we'd like to hit the following weekend at the Pike's Peek 10k. I got to the race a little lsater than I expected and quickly donned my running clothes and found the Outlaw already running back and forth near the starting line. I got in a hurried mile warm-up and began to wonder if this was going to be a good idea. My stomach felt a little "off" and I worried a quick pace might upset it. Outlaw and I took off guns blazing. We were joined by some other harrier, but by the time I hit mile 1 (4:40) I had opened up a sizable lead. "Too fast," I thought, "WAY too fast." That being said (or thought), the pace felt surprisingly easy. I relaxed a bit and Outlaw came up behind me. The course - with it's many 90 degree turns, and switchbacks - is quite technical, but we did our best to run tangents and give the lead Vespa chase. My stomach started to feel a little "off", but I was resigned to finish the race. I hit mile 2 in 9:46 (a 5:06) and kept that pace going for another half mile or so before slowing down considerably. Outlaw came bounding past me around this time and together we took aim towards the finish line. We went back and forth a few times, but in the end I got the better of the NY Yankee fan. My last mile was a paltry 5:17 and the finish time had me at 15:48. Yikes.

Considering it was a workout, the time didn't bother me, still I hate dying so badly in a race. The good news is that I have found a little bit of speed and I hope to put that to good use next Sunday on the fast, flat and straight Pike's Peek course.

I ran 3.5 that morning and got in 11.5 for the day. My runs leading up to Friday were fairly slow and easy; recovering from running ten miles on the asphalt. I hadn't done a workout on Wednesday, hence my decision to run the 5k on Friday night. By the time I got home (two train rides and another 1.5 miles of walking) I was quite cooked, so I opted for an "Irish Shower" vice an American one.

...which brings me back to the Red Fox Magical Forest...

I was tired, but the going sure was pretty. When I reached Sunfish Pond, I saw turtles warming their carapaces under the hot sun, but they scurried into the cold, mucky water as I scampered past. I saw a woodchuck a short time later. The rolling terrain left me breathless, at times, but it was good to get into the woods and away from the streets.

The white rabbit was right.

On Sunday I ran 15, starting at Edward's Ferry. It was Luff, JR, me, Wiggy and Texas Paul for the first 8.5, then Tex and I banged a left and continued on the Large Animal Loop (14). We cranked the pace down ever so slightly and our 14th mile was 5:07. Fifteen for the day. Seventy for the week.

RACE REPORT: Cherry Blossom Ten Miler

We all knew there would be wind, but we didn't know how windy it would be. On the team warm-up, we crested Memorial Bridge and were offered a preview, but conditions weren't awful...at least, not yet.

I started out damn near perfect and kept my stride in check despite the tide of runners moving away from me in the first half mile. Jerry Greenlaw, the "Outlaw", was right by my side and Alex "Viking" Benway was just a stride or two back. We hit mile #1 (all splits are according to my GPS watch) in 5:14 and everything felt perfect. I was thankful for not going out in 5:0X. Suddenly Chris Mills came bounded out from behind me with some encouragement from his coach (George Buckheit). I surmised he was doing a workout or sorts, but, in any case, his jolt rallied everyone around us and

At least 3 to 5 others runners had settled on either side of us by the time we were on Memorial Bridge. The wind had picked up and we jockeyed for position, but more often than not we exerted more effort shifting about than we would have done simply running in a straight line and taking what the wind delivered.

Ahead of our pack was Mills, who was chasing down Bert and Sloane who, in turn, were riding in the wake of the elite pack, which included what looked like about 8 East Africans and couple of Americans.

We hit mile 2 in 5:05, decisively faster than the first mile. Mile 3 was 4:59. Damn. It felt fast, but it also felt comfortable. Going out so slow was having an positive impact it seemed. I tried my best to run tangents and we all did our fair share at keeping the pace honest. Outlaw seemed to look around a lot as if to suggest we should press, but I was content to stay steady until mile 5. The next couple of miles were run in 5:07 and I hit the halfway in 25:56 (25:35 for 5 on the GPS), which was essentially a few ticks slower than I ran for 5-miles just two weeks ago. Having accomplished my objective of going out easy (25:45-26:00), I surged a little in an attempt to find a new gear. The pack caught back up, but soon we slowed. As we passed the Jefferson Memorial, I grunted to Outlaw, who at the time was leading our peloton, “we’re slow”. He thought I said, “get (Chris) Sloane”, who was about 20-seconds ahead. 

Just before mile 6 (5:15) we looped out onto Hains Point. I don’t think any of us were expecting the wind to be as bad as it was. In one sense, the cool air felt somewhat refreshing, but we all knew the gusts had dashed our momentum. Somewhat resigned, I *settled* in behind the pack with the hope of waiting out the wind until the backstretch, at which point, I’d role around the other runners like Michael Johnson off the turn in a 200. “Stupid”, I thought, “Everyone was going to do the same thing”. Suddenly, Viking, like a hero of the night, surged into a cool blast of air and within seconds had gapped the pack. Only one other harrier was able to keep pace. Outlaw and a couple others did their best to follow suit, but they never were able to gain back that ground. I struggled to match their bursts and debated (over and over again in my head) if I should exert a lot of energy trying to make an all out attempt down windy Hains Point or whether to, as some might say, “Stand down. Then attack”. In a way, I did both. I recorded two miles in 5:25, but considering the wind, this deceleration is forgivable.  

I rounded Hains Point and immediately tried to shake the guy I’d been running alongside for the past mile and a half and then find a new gear. I did, but then he came back. Then, he tried to shake me. For the next mile or so, we surged and surged; it felt as if I was running at top speed. Ahead, Outlaw and Wilson Komen (who Outlaw had caught) were slowly coming back to me. Just before mile 9 I really upticked my pace with the goal of catching Outlaw by 9.25 so that we could, in turn, chase after some of the other guys ahead of us, who were in striking distance. Having won the “surge off” with my cohort, I now focused like a laser on Wilson and Outlaw’s backs. Every few steps, I’d gain a step, still it was an awful lot of real estate to make up. 

The Washington Monument inched closer and closer and I knew now that I'd regret it all if I didn't try one last surge. Just before the final incline, I heard Coach Jerry yelling at me to get on Outlaw and pass Wilson. I surged like a sonofabitch and went flat out for the next 100 yards or so, passing both Wilson and Outlaw as if they were standing still. As I crested the "bump" just prior to to finish, I began to unravel, but I held on and tried to focus on the one of the other guys from our initial pack ahead of me.

I finished 17th in the rather slowish time of 52:25. Still, I finished knowing I'd given it everything I had so I was happy. Sunday wasn't a day to run for time. 

Next up is Pike's Peek 10k.

Split	Time	Distance	Avg Pace
Summary	52:26.3	10.08	5:12
1	5:14.7	1.00	5:15
2	5:05.2	1.00	5:05
3	4:59.9	1.00	5:00
4	5:07.0	1.00	5:07
5	5:07.5	1.00	5:08
6	5:15.0	1.00	5:15
7	5:24.0	1.00	5:24
8	5:25.3	1.00	5:25
9	5:16.1	1.00	5:16
10	5:07.7	1.00	5:08
11	:24.0	0.08	4:47