2008 Boilermaker 15K

The 31st annual Utica Boilermaker! Biggest 15K in the world! Biggest after-race party you'll ever find! Free beer! Free massages! Live music! A fighter jet flyover! Midday fireworks! I'm not making any of this up!

I woke up around 3:30 am to drive to the east side of Rochester and board a bus chartered by the local Fleet Feet and filled with drowsy runners. The bus ferried us to Utica, about two hours away. Sleeping was impossible, but I gloated over my wisdom at wearing a sweatshirt and full length pants on the heavily air conditioned bus. Some runners were wearing only their singlet and shorts. I saw one guy drape a hand towel over his legs in an effort to retain some body heat.

The bus arrived an hour before the 8 am race start time. I left the bus race-ready in singlet, shorts, and racing flats. A light drizzle fell, but the air felt warm. A little rain would be welcome during the race, but the clouds would not oblige. I picked up my race packet and pinned on my number. Navigating the crowd to the sub-elite corral was a trick. I didn't remember where the start was and the crowd of racers seemed to stretch out in all directions. Eventually I found some people in "Security" shirts who looked at my bib number and then nodded at me as I walked by. Using this very simple gauge like a single celled organism that can only sense chemical gradients I moved in the direction of faster-looking people and security shirts. This strategy successfully landed me in the sub-elite corral, one step down from the fastest elite group.

Here I met up with Colin Carroll, messily unshaven and wearing a burnt-orange singlet, but otherwise as I remembered him from college. I'd run the Boilermaker once before, in 2005, when Colin encouraged me to do so. He has been running the race practically since he learned to walk.

In 2005 Colin placed 62nd sandwiched between two elite female Kenyan runners.

61 Edna Kiplagat       Kenya                3/515:F25-29 F#   8   52:45  5:40
62 Colin Carroll       Williamstown    MA  19/567:M20-24 M#  54   52:55  5:41
63 Naomi Wangui        Kenya                4/515:F25-29 F#   9   52:56  5:41

That year I went for a Romanian sandwich (and allowed Scott Weeks to join in the fun).

33 Nuta Olaru          Romania              1/466:F30-34 F#   2   50:32  5:25
34 Neal Holtschulte    Marysville      OH  11/567:M20-24 M#  32   50:32  5:25
35 Scott Weeks         Cortland        NY   3/532:M30-34 M#  33   50:33  5:25
36 Lidia Simon         Romania              2/466:F30-34 F#   3   50:42  5:26

This year, I would be seeking to break 50 minutes and not get beaten by any of the female runners.

Colin and I ran a warmup and caught up on how each other's running was going. After the warm up we went our separate ways to prepare in the little time we had remaining. I used the bathroom for, I think, the third time in the past hour. I also ran into Vanessa Martell, a top Rochester runner, who, like me, is sponsored by Trirunning and Walking before making my way to the line.

The sub elite start is roughly ten meters behind the elite start. I estimate that there are 30 elite runners total, male and female, so it isn't as if I'm starting way back in the pack.

The race starts with the boom of a cannon and for the next mile or two the roads are lined with non-stop cheering fans, music (live and recorded) and dancers (belly dancers and Irish step dancers were two groups I noticed). I tried to enjoy myself without getting too carried away. The pace for a 15K feels easy at the start, too easy. I wanted to negative split the run so I kept the pace reasonable.

A significant head wind buffeted us, but I found some tall guys to draft off of. Colin was behind me at this point, running with some of the elite women and wondering if he was getting any advantage drafting off of someone four foot eight inches tall.

The first two miles flew by, but the times on the big digital boards at the mile markers were abysmally slow. I ran 5:30 mile pace the last time I did the Boilermaker. I was shooting for closer to 5:10 this time, but the clocks displayed 5:35 or 5:40's. I asked another guy if the time seemed off. He glanced at his watch and agreed. I think he was just humoring me. I had been told repeatedly that the first 5k is all uphill, but I hadn't noticed that we were climbing (probably because the pace felt slow so early in the race).

We hit one of the bigger hills and I slowed down. My hill philosophy is that anyone who is passing is doing something wrong. A group of elite women swarmed past me from both sides and then I saw Colin. I wanted to say something encouraging, but he wasn't that close, then he moved ahead of me. On the subsequent downhill I found myself moving faster than the pack, but I was all boxed in. I asked Colin about the accuracy of the time. He explained the affects of running 5k nearly all uphill in very few words. Then I excused myself, shouldered my way past him, and surged up the hill leading into the golf course. I didn't know what to say, but in retrospect any cursory words of encouragement would have been better than simply asking him to get out of the way so I could run away from him. His heart is cold, so in the end it doesn't matter much one way or the other.

Though I did push up the hill, I still felt that I was moving conservatively. The course rolls a little, but by and large it is a 5K climb, a steep 5k descent, then a final more gradual 5k descent. We crested the hill and I let my legs out. I experimented briefly with notching up my turnover into high gear, but it felt like too much so I did brake a little with each step. Still I flew past people. The downhill was that precipitous. I worried about the shock that the pounding would have on my legs. A little less than 10K remained.

The crowds of cheerers didn't thin, but the gaps between them grew. The race wove through quiet and noisy districts. Water stops speckled the course and I utilized them multiple times to douse my head and face. The rain went away during the race, but the heat and humidity clung to the earth. Thankfully the clouds kept the sun off us.

The runners thinned out to almost nothing. The largest group I found after 5K was a trio running side by side, but after taking the better part of a half mile to catch them on a long downhill, I'd have been selling myself short if I slowed to their pace just for the company. I pressed on and kept my eyes up on the next jersey. Luckily another runner to catch always appeared though the gaps between each were 100 or 200 meters at a time. I remained very positive. I focused on form and counseled myself against complacency.

The 10K mark came and went. Eventually I found myself eyeing a bright red and yellow Brooks-Hansons jersey far ahead of me. I recalled what Coach Reif had said about running right up with the Hansons runners. I had been skeptical before, after all these guys run for a living. Running is just my part-time work. But here I was slowly closing on one of their runners.

Turns out it was Fred Joslyn, a runner I've raced before. I congratulated Fred on his race afterwords and told him that I was gunning for him for a long time. Joslyn said that Pat Rizzo saw me at 7 miles and thought I would catch him. Though I'm sure this was an objective analysis, it still warms my heart that he thought I would get Fred. I had confidence in myself too. Little by little I could see the distance between us diminish.

A side stitch began knifing between the ribs on my right side, but I didn't think much about it. I was counting down the miles, but more concerned with having enough real estate to catch Joslyn than about completing the race. Somewhere around the eight mile mark that changed. The side stitch got worse.

No big deal, I thought. Side stitch pain is wimpy pain. It makes me think of the Gom Jabbar, which never really impressed me much. If you had to keep your hand in a little black box and your life depended on it, don't you think no amount of pain applied to that hand would make you take it out? I don't know. A hand just doesn't seem like a great conduit for pain. That's how I feel about side stitches, they're too topical. Yes, they stab through your torso, but they don't feel like organ pain or nausea or migraines and they aren't irresistible fatigue. Those are misery. Side cramps are just frustrating.

I forced my breaths to remain large. I tried to exhale fully, which is said to eliminate side stitches. I tried to let out the breaths as the foot on the opposite side of my body hit the ground. I used every trick in the book. The side stitch got worse, as bad as I have ever felt a side stitch get. I found myself bending over and a little to the side. My lungs would not fill all the way. I fought it. The pain was bearable. Still, I found myself unable to stand up straight and more importantly I could not fill my lungs to capacity.

I think the downhill pounding somehow produced the side stitch. Something about the rhythm of the impact interfering with my breath-taking. That's my theory anyway.

Joslyn drifted away and in my mind he was as good as gone. I was not racing. I was surviving past the finish line. I pushed onward feeling quite like a running hunchback as I strained to un-clench my obliques. The bagpipes foretold the end. The nine mile mark quantified it. One third of a mile remaining. I got passed by one guy, but I didn't mind much.

Then I saw the finish line. This guy who passed me wasn't accelerating and the finish was downhill. Hell! I thought. I can't breathe, but my legs feel well enough to sprint. I out-kicked him by two seconds though the first female wheelchair finisher blurred by me seconds before I finished. I went all rag-doll when I crossed the line. Sprinting without breathing properly will do that to you.

Here is a video of my finish I'm a mess. This isn't pretty. I show up 3 minutes and 25 seconds into the clip.

Emergency medical personnel swept to my aid. I was grateful at first. I even managed to put my hands above my head and walk a few steps to the medical tent on my own. There I said I was ok. Just a little trouble breathing. No, not asthma. I'm fine. I just need a moment to breathe. I'll be fine. They wouldn't hear a word of it. I understand that from their point of view I was a delusional runner who had just collapsed and who's skin was cold to the touch, but from my point of view I was an experienced racer who knows what "in need of medical attention means" and this was not it. So my heart rate is 110. I just raced. That's not so bad. I really didn't want an IV. Nobody likes needles. My breathing steadied before they even got the needle in my arm and all I could think was how bad it is for my muscles and blood flow to lie down on a stretcher right after a race. I was not in a conciliatory mood, but neither was I ready to fight my way out of a medical tent. Was I in any sort of shape to take on four mom-like EMP's and their not-bad-looking college-age assistants? The world may never know.

Once the needle was in, I humored them. Yes, I am feeling better.

That's the saline working. It goes straight to your bloodstream to relieve cramping.

Yeah, that or I can breathe again. Damn, now I can't run a cooldown for fear of blood spurting out of a hole in my arm.

Eventually they let me out. My legs were a little stiff and unsteady, but no amount of saline would prevent a little cramping from an all out 15 kilometer effort followed by a dead stop. I had finished with one runner and one race-chair around me followed by more than a thirty second gap. Fifteen minutes later people are pouring across the finish line. I entered the stream and drifted towards the food.

Heaven is a buffett after a race. Everything tastes like ambrosia even though it's simple stuff: orange slices, banana, cookies. Further down the line I'd stock up on cans of lemonade, fruit and granola packets, potato chips, and bland turkey sandwiches on white bread with big packets of mayonnaise. Oh yeah, and beer, Utica's finest Saranac.

After the race I ran into (a guy who's name escapes me again, dang. Irish, red hair, just got back from Europe. I still can't remember his name) and Vanessa, who thought I must have been top American if they drug tested me. Bless her, I had to clarify that it wasn't that kind of needle. I sort-of ran a cooldown with them, holding the gauze down on my arm half the time. Thankfully I didn't bleed a drop.

After that, I took my time gathering food, changing clothes, and waiting in line for a free massage (the fighter jets flew over in the middle of the massage, significantly disturbing my peace of mind).

Satiated with a decent amount of food, I grabbed a beer and went to search for Colin. His family spotted me and not for the first time. They said that when they saw me in the race they thought I was Colin. We both agree that one of us should be insulted.

I like talking math with Colin, because he knows how to bring it to my level without insulting me or making me feel stupid (we were both math majors at Williams), but talking with Colin brings up all my old doubts about grad school. Not only do I miss hanging out with smart and dynamic people like him, but I always thought I would be doing high end research, actualizing cold fusion, or inventing the longer-longer lasting light bulb.

He's doing tricky stuff at Rice. I can't claim to understand it, but with 18.6 miles and 8 beers between the two of us before noon on a Sunday he can explain modding rings by ellipses and I get the gist of it. (mod is the verb of modulus and rings have nothing to do with bands of metal worn on fingers) We're smart guys. Shouldn't I be doing cutting edge research too? inventing the next big thing? I don't know. He tells me Caroline Cretti is going to be an assistant coach at Luther College. She'll be great at that, but would the Williams College English major rather be writing the next great American novel? (I would.)

I talk with Colin and his family until the Rochester bus is ready to head out. I jump onboard and as the bus doors close the sky opens up with drenching rain. God bless the Boilermaker. Apparently so.

It's a long ride back and I really start to feel like crap. Everybody just wants to be in a shower, or eating real food, or optimally, having completed those two tasks, curled up on the couch dozing to the sound of rain drumming on glass. We all get there eventually.

Results, Links, and Trivia

I finished 19th overrall with a time of 48:46. Though my "sandwich" appears to be with Joslyn and Boyd, I like to think it was a champion sandwich with the female wheelchair victor, me, and the male masters (over 40) winner, Steve Boyd. Also, I was the first New York state finisher, which I consider to be my most impressive statistic (even if it mostly just means that some New Yorkers need to step up.

18  	Fred Joslyn  	 USA 			00:48:27  	5:12    M20-24  2008
19 	Neal Holtschulte Rochester, NY, USA 	00:48:46 	5:14 	M20-24 	2008
20 	Steve Boyd 	 Canada 		00:48:48 	5:15 	M40-44 	2008
21 	Seamus Nally 	 Burnt Hills, NY, USA 	00:49:19 	5:18 	M20-24 	2008

Splits
At 5k I was in 35th place, running 5:33 miles, with a 5k time of 17:15. I ran 10k in 32.53, which is a second 5k split of 15:38 in 5:18 miles (this is where you see the elevation coming in to play). I passed 13 racers between the 5k and 10 mark to move into 22nd. My last 5k was 15:53, which is fairly consistent considering the terrain, and I passed 3 more racers during that final third. Overall I ran a 5:14 mile pace.

I was the 8th American, though I might prefer to count Peter Kosgei as an American. He was the division 3 cross country runner up this year and he has been a national champion in track.

14  	Peter Kosgei  	Kenya  	00:47:33  	5:07  	M20-24  	2008

Colin beat the first place woman by a solid margin, with a very good pace considering what I hear about the state of his speed training. He would say the same thing about my base mileage no doubt.

31  	Colin Carroll  	 Houston, TX, USA  	00:50:06  	5:23  	M20-24  	2008
35  	Ashu Rabo Kasim  Ethiopia  		00:50:39  	5:27  	F20-24  	2008

Vanessa Martell was the top Rochester female finisher in 57:36.

Links
My race pics

Boilermaker home page

Results, history, maps, race profiles, life, the universe, everything.

Results for the 15K

Results for the 15K hosted by a different site

Someone else's Boilermaker writeup, with a nice elevation map.

News and results

Submitted photos

Finish line videos - one for every four minutes!

Video of my finish - I'm a mess. This isn't pretty. I show up 3 minutes and 25 seconds into the clip.

I made the news in Little Falls, New York!

5k splits

10k splits

The Observer Dispatch's article on the race.

The Greater Rochester Track Club put up a nice mention of me.

Here is some trivia I found out when I looked at my 2005 Boilermaker results.

In 2005 I was beaten by my current local competitor Jeff Beck. I was also bested by the recently graduated Ted Turner, who I have faced a few times since college. Tomas Morrisey and Fred Joslyn finished behind me, so my division three running cred wasn't completely muddied by that race.

24 Jeffrey C. Beck     Fairport        NY   7/567:M20-24 M#  24   49:03  5:16   2005
31 Ted Turner          Wappingers FallsNY  10/567:M20-24 M#  30   50:22  5:24   2005
37 Tomas Morrissey     Astoria         OR   3/454:M15-19 M#  34   50:57  5:28   2005
40 C. Fred Joslyn      Binghamton      NY  13/567:M20-24 M#  37   51:04  5:29   2005