In the past week, I've read Martin Dugard's "To Be A Runner," after listening to the Rogue Running podcast with the author. This is a collection of short stories about his various running experiences, from Pamplona and Paris, London and Saipan, Borneo and his home turf on the California coast. He writes beautifully and passionately about running. I can almost feel the lactate burning in the legs as I read some of Dugard's accounts. He has a chapter entitled simply, "HILLS" Quoting liberally:
"Hills are a fact of life."
"A guy like me ... needs hills the way I need the love of a strong woman.
They kick my ass, keep me honest, and make me a better man.
They complete me."
 |
| Great turnout from Tucker Runing Club. I'm in the center, wearing the shirt with the original logo. That was the clean TRC shirt in my collection. |
The Tucker Road Race was heavily advertised this year, with over 300 participants in the race. With that large of a group, I didn't expect a chance to win anything. Before the start, I saw the eventual #1 and #2 finishers chatting, ages 62 and 57, respectively. There are a lot of fast runners in Tucker! It must be all the hill training ....
"No matter if I am fit, fat, tired, exhausted, fresh, or thinking thoughts that take me a thousand miles away, the hill will have its way with me."
My plan for the race was to simply coast for the first mile or so, treating this as a 2-mile race. As we ran out of the Tucker High School parking lot onto Chamblee-Tucker Road, I knew that the first mile was mostly level, following Chamblee-Tucker Road along the Eastern Continental Divide. My pace stayed around 8:00 / mile, and my heart rate in the low 140s. About six minutes into the race, we turned right onto Smithsonia Drive, and after 100 meters or so, plunged downhill toward Lucky Shoals Creek, passing the 1-mile marker on the way down, 7:52 elapsed. Near the bottom of the hill, I remembered Dugard's advice:
"Ten quick steps"
The hill loomed overhead, but Dugard's words were a mantra. They focused my mind on the process rather than the challenge. My cadence picked up as I began to power up the hill. Just ahead of me I saw TRC member Roxana Allen, then 100 feet in front was TRC founder Curtis Walker, and in the distance, TRC regular and Boston Marathon veteran Elizabeth Mann working her way up the hill.
1.1 miles in: now my race began. I had no illusions about catching up to Curt or Liz, but midway up the hill I passed Roxie, with some regret. I say regret, because in a TRC group run on Wednesday evening, in 80 degree heat, I slowed to a walk after about 5 miles, and Roxie caught up to me. She slowed to ask if I was OK, then walked for a moment to ask again. I assured her that I was fine, I just didn't need to run any further that evening. I had appreciated her kindness to ensure that I wasn't in distress. Having passed Roxie today, I certainly didn't want to fall off the pace again.
"You take the fight to the hill at a time when the natural tendency is to slow down..."
Reaching the top of the hill as we turned left onto Goodfellows Road, I caught my breath for a moment. There was a water station, but in this race I didn't stop. Had I just gained a bit of ground on Curt Walker, could it be true? Turning right onto Spring Glen for one short block, we may have run just a bit downhill before we turned right, onto Old Norcross Road.
This is a narrow two-lane road without sidewalks, along my usual commute to-and-from work, with a 35 mph speed limit that is easily forgotten. I often say, "I've run this exactly once!" Because of the absence of sidewalks, I won't - I should say, I can't safely run into downtown Tucker from my home. But for today, one lane is protected from the world.
And then I passed Curt Walker, probably only the second time ever that this has ever happened in a race. Thanks to Martin Dugard, for inspiring me up that first hill. But I knew that Curt would try to catch me if he could, so I dared not slow down.
Enjoying a long run along Old Norcross Road, now ever so gently uphill, I caught up to and then passed Liz Mann near the mile 2 marker. My pace was a little slower, 8:14 for mile 2, but having climbed 100 feet from Lucky Shoals Creek, I was very satisfied with my progress. Turning right onto Pine Lake Road, I prepared myself to battle more hills. But I had remembered the route imperfectly: we first headed downhill onto Park Drive, toward the pond called Cofer Lake, where Lucky Shoals Creek begins its long journey to contribute its waters to the Savannah River. At a second water station, a runner that I had noticed earlier walking far ahead of me had stopped altogether as he drank down a cup of water. Before I caught up to him, he began running again. Now there were three people around me or just in front of me, the run-walker, a woman wearing an orange top, and a man wearing a Chickamauga Half-Marathon shirt. I threw in a short surge as we ran up a 50-foot hill, and momentarily got in front of the woman and Mr. Chickamauga. But then I fell back to regular speed, and the orange woman and the Chickamauga man passed me. They were running strongly, and I decided not to try to catch them.
"Hills are the scourge of the running world, a place of private inward pain and challenges where all runners are equal, forced by the incline and their own relative fitness to become a better version of themselves on their journey to the top."
The run-walker was walking again! I was struggling, but somewhere along Ball Park Road, with less than a half-mile to the finish, I passed Mr. Run-Walk. Then he surged to catch up with me. Now we're running together. I'm regretting not run-walking myself. He had a second or a third wind, I was nearly out of my first wind. A quick look at my watch as mile 3 signaled showed 8:25, 24:30 for the race. I couldn't reach my typical goal of 25 minutes for the race. I started to let off the gas, as the run-walker pulled ahead on another little uphill section that had
"The lungs begging for an extra scrap of oxygen..."
I felt familiar disappointment knowing that I had run four good kilometers, but couldn't maintain a quality fifth kilometer. Then I saw the last turn, not much further to the finish line. I heard people ahead cheering, TRC member Angela Haertel shouted "Go Frank!" And just 100 feet from the finish, the run-walker faltered.
He must not have read the book.
"And then, of course, it was on."
I surged forward, and was immediately rewarded by halving the distance between us. I thought "I just need to get to the finish line", and I surged again. A friend shouted "You're going to catch him!" or maybe it was a foe: "He's going to catch you!" I don't quite recall what I heard, friend or foe, but one more surge propelled me past him, as I flew through the finish chute, a second ahead of my competitor.
 |
| Thanks to the race organizers for the free finish line photos, recording my glorious completion! |
25:43 on the clock, 25:34 official. And although I didn't achieve the 25 minute goal, I was pleased overall to have run a fairly steady race, holding back enough in the first mile to push myself through the last mile.
 |
| Bronze medal!! |
The effort was good enough for another third-place age group award! Thanks to Martin Dugard for today's inspiration!
No comments:
Post a Comment