Yesterday a jury in Brunswick, Georgia delivered guilty verdicts to Ahmaud Arbery's killers. From everything that I had read and seen, it seemed like an obvious decision, but after hearing yesterday's news I remembered that one can never be sure what a jury will decide. In June of last year, I shared my reflections about Ahmaud Arbery and other victims of racial violence while running a virtual 5K distance. The guilty verdicts are a step in the right direction, but Mr. Arbery remains dead, so I feel some relief but no happiness. Ahmaud Arbery was murdered simply for "Running While Black." In my years of running all over the Atlanta metro area - really, in my 59 years of life, I've never come close to facing an analogous threat to my life. My only concern on the roads and the sidewalks has been to watch for distracted drivers and cracks in the pavement. As a white man, I'm free to run through predominantly Latino neighborhoods as I travel on foot north or east of my home in suburban Gwinnett County. I've logged hundreds of miles during long runs on or near the Westside and Southside Beltline sections through historically African-American areas of Atlanta without the slightest hint of danger. Over the years I've become increasingly aware of the privileges that I've enjoyed simply from the chance occurrence of my race and my gender. More consciously I now try to break the cycle that perpetuates bias, especially in my daily work as a university science professor, learning to teach and mentor and work more inclusively with all students and colleagues. This means not just doing what worked for me when I was a student or a junior faculty member, but continuing to learn and change to create an "equity framework," a term that resonates with me after reading some of the work of HHMI Director David Asai, who presented in our department earlier this year.
To change the subject to my current running activities, I've encountered another bout of nerve pain for the past month. When this afflicted me in May and June, it was in my right buttock; this time it's the same sensation in the same location in my left buttock. It started less than 2 weeks after completing the Chicago Marathon. This time I didn't hesitate to see a doctor, who took X-rays and established that my vertebrae and discs were in the correct locations, and then I began physical therapy a couple of weeks ago. I decided to try a different approach with Lynne Repasky and Laura James at All Health Physical Therapy in Tucker, just a couple of blocks from my daily commuting route. It's not clear if it's spinal arthritis that is causing the problem, but their approach is to work on strengthening my core. That has certainly made sense to me, in part because I've really neglected that part of my training and conditioning. And I'm rapidly improving. Last weekend I ran 7 easy miles without too much pain. As we're in town this year for Thanksgiving, we decided about 10 days ago to register for the Thanksgiving Day 5K. Although this is only my second time to run in Atlanta on Thanksgiving Day, the event already has great fondness for me, because I set my personal best in the half marathon two years ago, in the midst of a long and productive training cycle. I knew that I wouldn't break any personal records in today's race, but it would be good test of my recovery and current fitness, a starting point for improvement in the coming year.
Brian Minor and I ran the race together today. We've enjoyed several friendly competitions over the years, including my victory in the Decatur DeKalb 4-miler, followed by my less stellar performance a month later in our rematch on the Big Peach Sizzler 10K course. With the Delta surge in the pandemic and a rash of break-through COVID cases in fully vaccinated people, I've taken another hiatus on socializing, so I haven't seen Brian in person since the summer. He knew that I've struggled lately, so he proposed that we run the race together as a fun run. I was grateful for the accommodation, and looking forward to catching up during the race.
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| The Hyperion Tempo model by Brooks |
On race morning, I awoke feeling quite good. Not 100% pain-free, but I graded the pain, on a 0 - 10 scale, at a 1. It was there when I thought about it, but I could mostly ignore it. We arrived more than an hour in advance of the 7:15 first wave; we were both in the 7:30 wave due to later registration. After we separately did warm-up runs, Brian found me in the corral, and I shared with him that I was in decent shape and ready to run. At 36 deg F with no wind and some warmth from the rising sun, the conditions were perfect for me with double layered running gear. I had also just purchased a pair of Hyperion Tempo shoes, probably the lightest shoes that I've ever owned. I was motivated to try out this model after learning that Des Linden won the 2018 Boston Marathon in a SuperShoe prototype embedded with a carbon plate. The Hyperion Tempo is neither a "SuperShoe" nor a budget-buster, but the next best thing for an amateur runner like me.
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| Bonnie, Brian, and me, a few minutes before our start |
At 7:30 am, our favorite race emcee Ronell Blackmon started our wave. Brian and I made sure to cross the starting mat together. Then I took a few quick strides and darted forward, working my way around some slower starters. Where was Brian? Ah, directly to my left. That's OK, we resolved to run together. The race route featured an uphill start going north on Hank Aaron Drive, but as far as I was concerned, that was ideal, to get one of the hills out of the way early. I took a quick glance at my watch, and saw that I was moving at a 9:47 min / mile pace. Not bad, considering that I've not run very far at that speed over the past year. Brian and I managed to maintain some conversation as we ran, interrupted mostly by simply moving around some of the people in front of us. We only needed about three minutes to reach the overpass for Interstate-20. Pace down to 9:30 min / mile! And no increase in pain, no difficulty maintaining that pace. After doing a lot of marathon training at 11 - 12 min / miles, and running shorter "races" at 10 - 11 min / mile paces, it felt really good to run faster.
We turned right onto Memorial Drive, and were instructed to stay to the right of the cones. That was only a single lane, and there were a lot of people moving in that lane, so Brian and I and a good number of other runners maintained our line to the left of the cones. Around this stage, I shared with Brian that I was wearing new shoes, very light and "endorsed by Des Linden", and bounded ahead with a short sprint. That was just for fun, maybe no more than 5 seconds, and I pulled back on the accelerator especially when I realized that we were running a gentle downhill, so maybe that was why I was able to move quickly. Just before we reached the 1-mile marker, my Garmin chimed the first mile, in 8:55! Brian and I compared times, he registered 8:56, so I was happy to claim victory for the first mile, LOL. Here the trash-talking began: I asked Brian if his heart was holding up, was he doing OK? It took him a moment before he realized that I was teasing and sort of encouraging him to run faster. Up ahead was a woman wearing a shirt on the back with the words "Get behind me Satan." I don't know exactly what that means, but figured that it implied that everyone behind her was Satan. So I picked up the pace a bit, and said to Brian, "let's pass Satan" when I was just behind the woman's left shoulder. I was hoping that she would laugh but I don't think that she actually heard me. After the pass, we kept moving at the quicker pace, now down to around 8:30 min / mile, without difficulty for me.
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| Today's race route. |
Before long, we made a right turn onto Wood Street, then a quick left onto Woodward, and another right onto Cherokee Avenue, heading due south. We had been talking about Brian's 2-year old son Brenden, speculating on the number of years (not many) before Brenden would outrun us, especially me being a few years older. We maintained our conversation, now that we were running downhill on a gentle slope, a "running" dialogue as we passed many other runners and walkers. I was particularly chatty. I guess I wanted to show off to everyone that we passed that I could run reasonably fast while still talking. I did firmly resolve NOT to talk about my injury while passing people on the race course. I remember how annoyed I was when a couple passed me during a race a few years ago, complaining about their current injuries! Thanks to the cold weather, my heart rate was only in the low 150 beats per minute, something that I could maintain for awhile. Unfortunately I began to feel that my left shoe was coming loose. I was having a good run and really didn't want to stop and check. It seemed that the laces weren't flopping around, which would have been dangerous and required a stop to retie, so I just kept running.
Another man, who I think was in his 40's, caught up with Brian and me. I think he had probably listened in on our conversation. As he passed us, he said something along the lines of "I'm enjoying the downhill, not thinking about the uphill" and I responded "With the uphill start, I think we've earned this downhill". He insisted "I don't think about uphill!" He moved about 10 yards ahead of us. I said to Brian, "let's try to keep close enough to him, maybe we can catch up to him at the end of the race." He was wearing a ski-cap with a large pom-pom, so I added "He'll be easy to spot as long as he's not too far ahead." As we crossed Interstate 20 again, there was a water station, and I decided to grab a bottle of Dasani from a volunteer. I asked Brian if he needed water, he said no, so I took only one bottle. A couple of sips felt good, so that was the right move, but it meant that I had to carry a water bottle for the rest of the race. The green expanse of Grant Park was to our left, then our Garmins sounded the 2-mile alert as we approached the 2-mile sign. "8:31" I called out. Brian checked his watch, and replied "8:35". I laughed and said "I also won mile 2!" and then "I like how I've programmed my Garmin to run a little bit fast." LOL.
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| Elevation vs. pace |
So far I was managing the one bit of strategy that I had for the race, to run each mile a little faster. When I was in peak shape a couple of years ago, I nearly set a new 5K personal best, without really trying, simply by running a progressive strategy. (I see that in that November 2019 blog post I resolved to "set a new personal record for the 5K distance in the year 2020" but then, COVID happened.) At the beginning of the third mile of today's race, I picked up the speed a bit more. Brian matched my move - and that was fine, I was glad that we were still running together, as planned. As we turned right onto Georgia Avenue, I shouted "straight shot from here to the finish." I think that was the last thing I said until after crossing the finish line. I needed to save every bit of energy, effort, and concentration for running! I did channel the good feeling that I remembered from running this same street in mile 22 of my personal-best marathon in March 2020.
The road took a slight uphill elevation, between Grant Street and the appropriately named Hill Street. Now I deployed my "secret skill": the sciatica hardly bothers me at all when running uphill! The doctor told me that the information was helpful when he first diagnosed me in June, since posture changes a little when running uphill - and downhill, putting different stresses on the leg nerves emerging from the spinal cord. Taking momentary advantage of the gentle uphill, I opened up some distance from Brian. Cresting the hill, running downhill past the track at Cheney Field, I maintained that speed. I stole a look behind me, looking over my left shoulder. Then I remembered from the Resolution Run 5K on New Year's Day 2018 (a frigid day when I set my 5K personal best of 23:30), Brian had stayed to my right, since I never looked over my right shoulder. So today, I looked over my right shoulder. And there was Brian, about 20 feet behind me. Brian called out "I'm right here, buddy!" Around the same time, the man with pom-pom ski hat passed me, looked over and smiled. I guess he must have taken a walk break somewhere on Cherokee Avenue. So now I was racing two people! It was all good fun, completely in the great spirit of the day. And it was just what I needed to keep pressing the pace. Remarkably, without pain! By that stage of the race, my brain was probably saturated with anandamide (commonly mistaken for "endorphins", see my November 2015 race report).
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| The finish line, before sunrise |
I looked behind me once more, over both my left and right shoulders. Now Brian was just 10 feet behind me, almost close enough to draft. We were running up the very last hill of the race, toward the intersection with Hank Aaron Drive, and the 3-mile marker came into sight. As I looked down at my watch at the intersection at the top of the hill (dumb dumb dumb!! but 7:59 for mile 3!), Brian kicked into high gear and passed me on the left, quickly moving 10 feet in front of me, and then more. I hesitated, knowing that I couldn't match Brian's kick, and suddenly felt tired, despite seeing the downhill finish. Then the man with the pom-pom tapped me on the right shoulder, and said "Let's go!" With his encouragement I launched into my best sprint. I didn't catch Brian but I didn't lose sight of him either, so that was a good outcome. Afterwards I saw that Garmin clocked me at 9.9 miles per hour. Brian must have broken 10 mph. 57 seconds after hearing the mile 3 alert, I crossed the finish line! 26:22 on the Garmin, 26:19 official chip time. Brian won by 4 seconds, but I was quite satisfied because this was definitely my fastest run in a very long time, going back to summer 2020 when I ran sub-26 minutes in a 5K and sub-7 minutes in a one-mile race.
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| I'm pretty happy with these statistics, from the steady progression in pace from start-to-finish, to keeping my heart rate within sustainable Zone 4 |
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| Bonnie in the last 1/4 mile |
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| With our medals after the race |
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| Brian is #1 based on clock time, but I'm #1 thanks to age-grading. |
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| Runner 164 is our real #1, on his way to a straight-line finish in the 2-year old division of the 50-meter dash. |
