September 21, 2019: Wingfoot Cross-Country 5K

In the past few days, the morning temperatures in Atlanta have finally cooled, although it still gets warm in the evenings.  I struggled through a 15 mile long run last Saturday morning at 75 deg F with 90% humidity, and had to cut short a speed workout on the track on Tuesday evening by four repetitions (1/2 mile), due to 90 deg F temperature.  On the other hand, I've built some strength throughout the heat of the long summer.  By regularly running strides at the end of some of my shorter weekday runs, my short-duration sprints have improved.  

I made the one-hour drive to Cartersville early this morning for the annual Atlanta Track Club Wingfoot cross-country meet, mostly just to earn the Grand Prix participation points.  The temperature was the coolest that I've felt in months, 59 deg F at the start.  I decided to race, aiming to better my course time of 25:06 in 2016 - on the same field but a substantially different course layout.  More importantly, I committed to start the race with good pace discipline, beginning conservatively and then gradually increasing my speed.  

As we gathered at the starting line shortly before 7:15 am, the number of runners seemed smaller than in previous years.  There was plenty of room for us all to toe the starting line.  After a pre-race announcement, the starter climbed onto a haybale in the middle of the field, waved a red flag, and then fired the starting pistol.  A puff of smoke rose in the air as a wave of eager runners flowed down the hill.  In previous years, I've often run down this hill far too fast - this time I held my pace at a relatively easy jog, aiming for no faster than an 8:00 min / mile pace.  Near the bottom of the hill, I took a quick peek at my watch, saw a pace of 8-low - perfect!  I made a left turn over a gulley without mishap, and settled into the running lane for the first mile.  I had started conservatively enough so that no one was passing me.  I weaved around a few children, taking care not to run over them.  We crossed the obligatory three rows of hay bales shortly before completing the first mile, up-and-over without raising my heart rate.  My watch signaled 1 mile complete at 8:11.4, and a few steps later I crossed the 1-mile timing mat at 8:17.8 (official).  If that was a little slow, I was now confident that I had plenty of reserve to run 2.11 strong miles.  Now to speed up a bit!  And unlike the Labor Day race, my legs responded to the command. 

We soon reached another timing mat, corresponding to the 2-mile mark for the lead runners coming in the other direction.  I noticed several Georgia Tech runners crossing the 2-mile mat at the same time as I passed in the other direction, at 10:28.3 elapsed (2050 meters for me, 1.27 miles), which meant that they were on pace for a 16-minute finish - amazing!  They didn't even look like they were exerting that much, but it was probably the efficiency of their effort that I observed.  In the 1/4-mile since the first timing strip, I had passed 6 people (thanks to the Atlanta Track Club for providing these detailed stats!).  Near the end of the second mile, I caught up to Bob Wells, a fellow age-group competitor.  Bob volunteers for many Atlanta Track Club events, and is deservedly well-known and liked.  I had thought that we might run together for awhile, but after we crossed the 2-mile timing mat together, my pace was a little faster than his, and so I moved ahead.  For the rest of the race, I heard people cheering "Go Bob!" and used that information to guess how far ahead of him I was.  My watch signaled two miles completed at 16:04, consistent with a 7:53 second mile.  I reached the 2-mile timing mat at 16:17.6, officially 8:00 minutes even - and having passed another 12 people.  

Now for the final 1.11 miles!  Once I had passed Bob Wells, I deliberately but slightly accelerated, reaching another timing mat at 3550 meters (2.21 miles) at 17:52.4, having passed 2 more people.  I began to tire a bit - but this was no time to let up.  I had run so well to this point, I wasn't going to let this effort slip away.  Positive attitude!!  I really enjoyed how strongly I ran up little 5-foot hills throughout the course, taking short powerful steps propelling myself past a couple of other runners each time.  For most of the final mile, I raced a couple of young women.  I caught up with them, passed one of them, then the other.  A moment later, one and then the other of the women moved ahead of me, but I found the energy to catch up.  We went back and forth exchanging the lead in our trio, occasionally passing other runners who had expended their energy too quickly.  My watch signaled 3 miles completed at 23:52, well before I saw the 3-mile sign, however that corresponded to a 7:48 third mile on my watch, confirming that I continued to speed up.  

Racing to the finish, there was another 5-foot hill to scrambled up, and I moved in front of both women.  Where was the finish line?!  Might I finish in less than 25 minutes?  I ran as fast as I could, but both women caught up to me as the finish line came into sight.  I saw 24-high on the clock - I found the speed for one last sprint, and here the stride workouts paid off: I rocketed ahead for a moment.  The clock clicked past 25 minutes.  It was almost too much of an effort for me, coupled with the momentary disappointment upon seeing 25:06 - 25:07 - 25:08 on the clock before I crossed the finish line mat, thankfully before I had run out of energy.  I recorded 25:11 on my watch.  My official finish time was 25:09.1, having passed 8 more people in the last stretch, to finish 148th overall.  The results showed that I was 0.3 seconds ahead of one woman and 0.8 seconds ahead of the second of "the two Margarets."  

All three of us advanced our places from the first mile to the finish, but I made the biggest jump. 

Although I didn't better my goal time of 25:06, I was very happy with the progressive nature of my race.  One of the Margarets congratulated me as we picked up bottled water from the volunteers.  My watch recorded a total distance of 3.19 miles, running the final 0.19 miles at a 6:53 min / mile pace.  I was definitely pleased with my strong finish. 

After cooling down, rehydrating, and chatting with a couple of friends in the Tucker Running Club, I set out for 5 easy miles on the Etowah Riverwalk Trail, completing a nice weekend workout before driving back to Atlanta.  

The trees on either side are memorials to local residents.

A field of cotton lies just south of the race route.

September 2, 2019: The Big Peach Sizzler 10K

After outrunning Brian Minor in the Decatur-DeKalb 4-miler in early August, he asked for a rematch!  We agreed to race again at the Big Peach Sizzler 10K, with 30 days to prepare.  On a whim, I created a poster in the style of a boxing or monster truck ad:

Brian responded with a text: "I'm taking our rematch competitively serious and will not underestimate you.  You have unleashed the beast.  lol"  along with photos of his running gear and training plan. 

With Carl Line after we both placed
at the Kirkwood Spring Fling 5K
(Bonnie wasn't there, otherwise we
would have a better photo!)

In the midst of a month of friendly trash-talking, I ran the ATL 20K.  To the surprise of us both, I passed Carl Line in the final quarter-mile of the race, and we ended up second- and third-place in our age group.  At bib pickup on Thursday evening, Carl promised that he would try to beat me - and now I had a second competitor hot on my heels for today's race.  

Although both Brian and Carl have generally outrun me in most races, my recent training had gone well.  If either of them ran a personal best, I wouldn't have a chance to win, knowing that I had only broken the 50-minute barrier once.  I set my 10K PR at 49:28 in this very race two years ago, on an unusually cool morning: 58 degrees F at the start.  At least I knew the course very well, having run this race every year since September 2014.  And once again, Big Peach Running Company had a 50-minute pace group, which I counted on for motivation and proper pacing.  

After chatting with a large number of friends who were also running this race, and getting a few pre-race photos of the competitors, it was time to warmup and head to the starting area.  I suggested that we start together, close to but behind the 50-minute pacers.  As I jogged to the starting area, I tried to run a few strides.  My legs felt OK, but I just didn't feel fast.  I tried not to let that get into my head, probably just a little pre-race nervousness.  I was pretty sure that once we started the race, I would have no difficulty reaching my goal pace at the beginning, around 8:00 min / mile.  I just hoped that I could maintain that pace for the entire race.  

Frank won the pre-race wrassling.  Just like his cat Waffles.  

Carl, Brian, and Frank before the race

The weather was beautiful.  I was very comfortable just standing around, around 70 deg F.  I didn't notice any humidity, although my Garmin stats recorded 83% humidity at the start.  Carl joined me shortly after I got in position behind the first of the 50 minute pacers.  As the corral began to fill, I looked around for Brian, but didn't see him.  I said hello to several other runners around us, including Bryan Greenberg, Kristi Swartz, and Bob Wells - all three can run a bit faster than me.  And then I saw Robin Mitchell and Jeff Norris a few rows behind me - they both run much faster (and both did so today).  

Where was Brian Minor??  

I kept looking from side-to-side, wondering what had delayed him, after all he had instigated the original idea of a race.  After all that talk, Brian wasn't at the start with me?!  I told Carl, "I bet Brian is starting behind us, so he can keep an eye on me."  Then it was time to begin.  

Bonnie photographed me at the start: "Where's Frank?"

Why is Frank looking to the side, when all of the other runners are looking ahead?
"Where's Brian?!" 

The starting line for the course was in a slightly different location from previous years.  That may be due to the new buildings and ongoing construction in the area, which has built up quite a bit in the few years that I've run this race.  As a result, we had a downhill start.  In the past, the course has been net level: this year it was net downhill by about 20 feet, so ideal for setting a new record!  I had no trouble at all getting up to speed, and kept close to the 50 minute pacers.  Carl even got out in front of them at the start, after making our first turn onto Malone Street.  Quickly reaching Peachtree Industrial Boulevard, we made a left turn, but the mass of runners had to squeeze between two police cars parked a little too closely together, probably only about one lane wide.  Nonetheless we made it through without any mishap that I could see.  

The race route was a series of rolling hills, nothing too substantial, just enough to make the elevation changes interesting in a good way, using different muscles for running downhill, uphill, and on level ground.  I thought there were more runners this year than in past years, but everything went smoothly in the beginning.  We very quickly reached the sign for mile 1: 8:16 elapsed, within a couple of seconds of my first mile in 2017 when I set my personal record.  Now it was time to speed up a bit. 

Now it was time to speed up a bit.  

And for some reason, I just couldn't make my legs turn over much faster.  

One very nice change this year were the additional water stations.  If I recall correctly, there were five in total, near each mile marker.  On a warm day, the water stations are literally life savers.  Although I carried a bottle of Nuun on my water belt, I took a cup of water from a volunteer at each of the first three stops, but hardly slowed down at all.  I passed Carl in this section.  I knew that was risky from the perspective of racing, but I wanted to keep the 50 minute pacers in sight.  They were about 100 feet in front of me at that point.  Carl was running little slower, but was running easily.  Mile 2 ticked by in 8:09, 16:25 elapsed.  And once again I aimed to speed up a bit more, wanting to close some of the distance on the pacers.  

No acceleration.   

Midway through mile 3, I saw the pace group pass through an intersection.  I began counting seconds: I needed 45 seconds to reach the same spot.  Hmm, I won't break 50 minutes at this rate.  Then I realized: not only had Carl gone out too quickly, but 

I had started as if the temperature was 58 degrees.   

It was not.  It was 70 degrees. 

And where was Brian?!  Nowhere in sight.  

Mile 3, 8:22, 24:47 elapsed.  That wasn't bad for approaching the midpoint of a 10K race, but nothing close to my personal record pace, on this course.  Where was Brian?  I tried to glance quickly from side to side, but didn't catch sight of him.  My mother's words from my childhood running days rang in my head: "Don't turn around and look back, it just slows you down!"  And so I didn't look again.  I knew that Carl wasn't far behind: I could hear him thanking the police for working the intersections.  When people complimented him on his American flag shorts, he verbally acknowledged them as well.  He didn't sound like he was breathing hard at all.  I, on the other hand, couldn't afford to expend any breath at all on anything other than running.  I thought, this isn't going to go well for me vs. Carl at the end of the race.  And then Carl passed me.  He said "I was hoping to stay behind you for longer."  But the fact of the matter was, I wasn't strategically slowing down the pace, I just could not run any faster today.  

And where was Brian?! 

Mile 4, 8:40, 33:27 elapsed.  That was 20 seconds slower than what I ran in the 4-miler a month ago, on a warmer day, on a much hillier course.  Carl had opened up a 100 foot gap on me.  I didn't know where I was going to find the strength to catch up with him today.  Then we would get on a downhill section, and I ran a little faster, but couldn't close the gap.  And then to my horror, I saw ahead a large truck edging out of a driveway or small street.  The runners ahead of me slowed, the driver pulled out all the way into the road, completely blocking our route.  Finally he turned left onto the open lanes of Peachtree Road.  This didn't affect my own running speed very much, although it certainly caused some people ahead of me to stop altogether. 

This is more-or-less what the truck looked like.
Images courtesy of the website   https://royaltruck.com
Company mottos: "Service Beyond Compare" and
"Safety Takes Top Priority"

In the moment, I tried not to let that get into my head.  I didn't want any excuses for a slower-than-expected pace.  Shortly afterward, having just crossed the Fulton County line into City of Atlanta, we approached the intersection with Peachtree Dunwoody Road.  And even though there were a bunch of runners ahead of me moving quite quickly, the police were waving automobile traffic through the intersection!  Fortunately the drivers chose to stop as runners streamed in front of the cars, but the cars were stopped in the middle of our designated lane.  I was too tired to say anything more than "Please!" to the policeman responsible for the intersection.  He responded "People have to go places."  I didn't respond, just kept running.  But isn't that what the race permit is for, to protect certain lanes for the runners?  Isn't that why the race is run early in the morning, on a holiday?  And now for two weeks in a row, I've had issues with automobiles, on the race course.  

Carl finished first.

Mile 5, 9:07, 42:34 elapsed.  It would be convenient to blame my problems on the traffic, but really, I just wasn't running the race that I had planned.  Nowhere in my race plan was "Run a 9 minute mile."  My legs had been sore and tired since at least the mile 3 marker.  And plenty of other runners were passing me, left and right.  Any moment now, I expected to see Brian pass me.  I certainly didn't see Carl ahead of me any longer.  Running past Phipps Plaza and then Lenox Mall, my next landmark was the intersection with Piedmont Road, on which we would turn right.  In my personal record run two years ago, I had reached the intersection at 46 minutes flat.  This year: 49:30.

"Enough", I thought, "you're beating yourself", with less than 4 minutes to go.  And as we turned north onto Piedmont Road, and began running a long gentle downhill, I finally found the pickup in speed that I had sought since passing the mile 1 marker more than 40 minutes earlier.  I had to navigate past a runner with a stroller - the stroller was on his right side so he and the stroller took up a good part of the lane, and I was boxed in on the right by another runner that may have been running with him.  Finally I got their attention and pointed ahead and they let me get by.  That required a nice little burst of speed, but somehow I managed it.  Somewhere in this section I passed the 6-mile mark, although I neither saw the sign nor heard an alert (8:52, 51:26 elapsed), but just kept running.  Shortly before making the turn onto Lenox Road, David Bloomquist passed me, encouraging me to run faster myself.  

And then, suddenly, as if the starship Enterprise had beamed him onto the course in front of me, there was my principal competitor, my friend, my foe. 

Brian Minor.  

He began to pull away from me, and I thought, "not again!"

I found a previously unknown reservoir of strength.

I jetted past him on his left.  

That was a surprise for me, and maybe also for Brian.  

But Brian had one more surge left within him.

He passed me again, on my right.  

I was done, spent, busted.  

Brian's finish

I made the final turn toward the finish line, sweat running into my eyes, passing under the finish line banner and over both timing mats, eyes closed with pain, not even noticing the clock.

Finishing the race; the grimace 

And awkwardly crashed into another man who had, appropriately, stopped shortly after crossing the timing mats, having completed the race.  Fortunately neither of us fell.  

The thrill of victory, and
the agony of defeat.

I bent over, trying to catch my breath.  Bonnie had recorded my finish, but she was photographing other runners behind me.  Carl was stretching against a lamppost.  Lindy Liu, who had run the 5K race earlier that morning, saw that I was in distress and ran over with a cold bottle of water, and a moment later, returned with an ice-cold towel.  Thank you Lindy, that really helped.  And after I had recovered, I found the man that I had clumsily run over at the finish, and I apologized profusely - and he was very gracious. 

"Who am I?"  "What am I doing here?"

Official results (gun time only, chip time was not recorded): 

         Carl Line, 52:34, 282nd place overall (out of 1387 total finishers)

         Brian Minor, 53:12, 296th place overall

         Frank McDonald, 53:23, 303rd place overall.  

Despite my initial disappointment, once I checked my finish times from previous years, it turns out that this was my second-best time on the course!   

Over lunch at the Flying Biscuit Café, I learned Carl and Brian's perspectives on the race:  

• Before the race began, Brian was just a few feet behind us, crouching low so that we couldn't see him.  On the other hand, I was standing on my toes, looking over the crowd for him, and almost every direction except directly behind me.  
• After I passed Carl, Brian passed him, also early in the race.  Mid-race, Carl passed Brian on his way to catch up to me.  He didn't want to pass me that early in the race, but I had really slowed down.  
• Brian's thought at that moment: "I don't have a beef with Carl, he can go on ahead.  I need to keep an eye on Frank if I want to win our race."  
• When I surged upon turning onto Piedmont Road near the finish, that surprised Brian.  He had to work hard to catch up.  And when he first passed me on Lenox Road, about a block from the finish, he was impressed that I matched his first surge.  He had to leave it all on the course to finish strongly, in case I had found another surge.  

Carl certainly earned the victory today.  He ran smoothly and consistently from start to finish.  

Bronze, Gold, and Silver

Carl and I have run dozens of Thursday evening group runs from the Big Peach Running store in Decatur, and Carl always stays with the slowest runner in the group.  On many occasions the slow runner has been me.  I've particularly appreciated it that he has slowed down when I've struggled in the heat, or when I've nervously made my way on a leaf-strewn broken sidewalk, and stopping to help when I slipped and fell in a muddy sidewalk-repair zone earlier this summer.  

The Big Peach Sizzler is a special race for Carl: each year, he raises funds for the Miles for Cystic Fibrosis foundation.  I've posted a link to Carl's fundraising page, and I encourage you to donate to this cause.  

https://www.flipcause.com/secure/fundraiser/MzcxOTk=/33198

P.S. In our pre-race trash-talking, one of the jokes was that the loser would win a case of toilet paper.   

"Frank will need it after I dust him off.  lol"