Buckeye Classic 10K - Sunday, September 2, 2007
I had been feeling desperate, desperate to race again. Training had been feeling obligatory recently. I needed to remind myself what competition felt like. I was trying to find money races, but I couldn't find any nearby, not that a 45 minute drive felt nearby at 6:30 in the morning. I signed up for the race anyway and found myself making that drive with a single fig newton breakfast in my belly. There's no time to digest much else.
I arrive at the race and go to pick up my packet. It's cold out even with dry-fit under my jeans and dry-fit over a cotton T over my CRC jersey. The sky is clear. No doubt the day will warm up quickly with the sun's appearance.
The parking lot and race registration are overlooked by a large dam. I can see the stairs up the dam wall. These are the talk of the race. Everyone wants to get a good look at them to see just how hard they will be. The stairs ascend to about the height of a four story building. It's funny, no one talks about the hill at the start that ascends to the same height or higher. This hill is longer than the stairs making this the hilliest 10K I will have ever run.
I do a ten minute warm-up up and down the long gradual hill right off the start. It's not too bad and it feels nice coming down, which I will do again at the very end right before the finish. That will make things interesting if there is competition, a nice flying fast finish.
Back at the car I change into my flats, put the car keys in my training shoes, and tuck those under some clothes on the floor of the car before slamming the door. It's silly. I don't want to race while clutching my key chain, but hiding the keys in the car probably doesn't make the car much safer. Now locking the keys in the car, that makes the car much safer, and that is what I had just done. I look down at the lock and curse. I must have re-locked it out of habit after opening the door. Based solely on my past and present race write-ups people would have to assume I'm a total klutz.
I shrug off the mistake pretty well. I've got everything I need to race and not a scrap more on my body. I borrow a cell phone and contact my mom before the race. She puts in a call for a tow truck.
I move to the starting line and the locked car is mostly out of my mind. There is plenty of other stuff on my mind, such as the absurdly heavy timing anklet I'm wearing. The race directors were kind enough to announce that the anklet must be worn on the ankles. I would have appreciated this information six months ago, but I won't make that mistake again.
There is no gun for this race. Someone with a bull horn just says go. The race starts when we cross the sensor at the starting line. I understand the reasoning, but I'm actually a little nervous because by this mechanism someone could finish behind me and still beat me by having a lower time because each individual's timing chip doesn't activate until they cross the starting line. I needn't have worried.
I bolt into first immediately. I can hear the rest of the race receding behind me almost immediately so I check my speed and try to be objective. It really isn't that fast.
Shreds of conversation from the other "leaders" continue to fade.
"I ran an hour and thirty yesterday and I already swam a mile this morning..."
Excuses are like assholes.
I round the corner out of the parking lot and start the long ascent up to the top of the dam. I slow slightly, but I can tell that I'm putting more distance on the field. It may be a lonely race.
At the top of the hill I round a sharp turn onto the top of the dam. Dog walkers and parents with strollers are out enjoying the area. I feel a little silly rocketing past them. As I run along the wall of the dam I look out over the lake enjoying the view. Only a few boats are out already. I can't look forwards. The sun is squatting on the horizon straight ahead so I get a good view of the pavement as I look down.
A little before mile three the concrete wall of the dam gives way to an earthen wall and I am greatful for the softer grass surface though it rolls my ankles around a bit. I'm feeling great, but distracting and self-abusing thoughts about car keys locked in cars occassionally slip in.
I hit road again and begin a mile long gradual descent. I pick up the pace a little refusing to believe that no one could possibly catch me. I never look back, ever.
With the sun out of my eyes I can see again. It is a beautiful summer day but the sounds of summer strike me more than the sights. The sound of power lines sizzling water vapor temporarilly drowns out the buzzing cicadas. Power lines and cicadas, it reminds me of running at my high school, quite peaceful actually. Later, on the downhill, another droning sound edges in. People are flying remote controlled airplanes. It's such an idyllic setting. Overhead one plane makes loop de loops.
At the bottom of the hill I turn back into the parking lot and head across towards the stairs up the side of the dam. I wave off water at the water stop and zoom past the start/finsh recieving some hearty cheers along the way. I hit the stairs and initially take them two at a time, but they are the damn kind of dam stairs that are awkwardly spaced so you can't maintain the same stride all the way to the top. Little landings interrupt me as well. By the time I reach the top I feel like I'm running through three feet of water. I regain my speed on the flat dam wall, but my legs are feeling very heavy.
I come up on a narrow add-on. The course shoots straight out on a non-descript road, hairpins, and comes right back. I take the hairpin turn and run for what feels like a handful of minutes seeing no one. I pass the top of the dam and still the second place runner, whoever that may be, has not begun the add-on.
The race is in the bag so I've got to push myself to keep up the pace. My own ready-made excuse returns as the motivation for pushing faster. "I'm treating this race like practice." There is no slacking off in speedwork practice. I push the pace down the hill, turn into the parking lot and accelerate a bit more coming through the finish in 32:45.
I'm pretty happy with the time. The course was almost certainly going to be a little slow due to the hills. Then again, the downhills were significant and I might be willing to trade a few long gradual downhills for a few sharp short climbs. It's hard to know what the time means in terms of my fitness level, but I felt good after the race so it's no big deal. Second place followed a little more than two minutes later.
After cooling down I started devouring the post race refreshments that were provided: GORP, iced-watermelon, and granola bars. And it was a good thing too. The tow truck hadn't been sent yet and due to a few more complications it didn't arrive for another two hours. During that time I relaxed in the shade and watched the remote controlled planes chase each other around the sky.
The prize for the race was a big framed picture of Brutus Buckeye (the OSU mascot) and two tickets to see the Columbus Crew (major league soccer team) take on the Colorado Rapids. The tickets were for that same afternoon so my dad and I went out to check out the game. It was fun to see, a fairly defensive game, a bit heated at times (is 5 yellow cards more than normal for a soccer match?). The game ended in a tie 1-1.
Afterwards my dad and I ordered a pizza and watched Thank You for Smoking. Overall, an idyllic Labor Day-eve.
