About one month ago, the Grand Prix 400 meter track sprint race appeared on the Atlanta Track Club web site. I decided to register, just to get the Grand Prix participation points, and assured Coach Carl that it wasn't a goal race, so didn't want to interfere with the long run scheduled for that day.
When the heat assignments for the 400 meter race appeared on Friday morning, I was momentarily panicked. "There's no way that I can run a 1:25 400 meter sprint!"
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| Sobering reminders on the Roswell Riverwalk, from the Equal Justice Initiative |
After a relaxing afternoon at home (even a short nap), we headed to Cheney Field in the Summerhill neighborhood, near the former Olympic Stadium. I was hoping to see 97-year old Betty Lindberg run the 100 meter sprint, or the 1500 meter masters race, but apparently she was a no-show today. A couple of weeks ago, I had heard a really nice interview with Betty on the "Ali on the Run" podcast, celebrating her 5K masters world record. I proudly wore my new "Run Like Betty" shirt for this afternoon, but over a long-sleeve race shirt, due to unseasonably cool temperatures for April in Atlanta.
Around 5:20 pm, the announcer called for the runners in the first 5 heats to gather on the infield. With me being in heat #10, I figured that was just enough time to run an easy warmup mile, in a couple of loops around the park. That really helped to loosen up any tightness from this morning's 9-miler. But when I returned, the 400 meter heats had not yet started! The meet was still working through some 100 meter sprints. It was amazing to watch a pair of the sprinters breaking 11 seconds. But with my premature warmup, I started to tighten up again, so just kept moving around the park, walking and occasionally jogging. Finally the first heats of the 400 meters began. With large groups up to 16 runners per heat, they were doubling up with two runners in each lane. Remember, the 400 meter race has a staggered start along the first curve, and runners remain in the same lane from start to finish. I was just hoping that I would be paired with someone that was clearly faster - or clearly slower than me, so there wouldn't be any awkward attempts to pass within a narrow lane.
Lining up with the runners in heat #10, I had the last number, 16, so was headed for lane 8. There were a few no-shows, but runner 15, Emily, was a young woman in training for Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, Minnesota in June. She had submitted a slow time so that she wouldn't feel the pressure of having to run fast - I didn't share that I was suffering from imposter syndrome from having submitted a time that was too fast, but just said "I already decided that if the other person in my lane was younger than me, she would start in front!" As it turns out, there were two no-shows in earlier lanes, so Emily took lane 7 and I took lane 8. I knew that in lane 8, with everyone else behind me, that if anyone moved in front of me early in the race, I would already be losing. Obviously not the best mindset to have for a race, but reminded myself that I was simply running for Grand Prix participation points and that it was a "fun lark."
I carefully placed my left toe an inch behind the yellow line, the starter announced "Set!" I slightly crouched to spring forward, and a shot rang out starting our race! With five quick steps I was off into the race with the word PUSH! in my mind.
Then to my left, Emily already passed me while we were still on the curve. And on the first straightaway, where I had intended to PACE, I could see several runners to my left already out in front. Emily was 20 meters in front, however it seemed that I had finally caught up to her pace, as the gap wasn't growing.
At the 200 meter mark, I remembered the advice to re-invest in the race, in the POWER stage. In that moment, a surge of lactate washed through my legs. The air grew thick around my body, as if I was running into the wind - maybe I was? The thick air wasn't making its way all the way down into my lungs. I desperately tried to increase my speed, but the gears in my legs were slipping, I could not accelerate.
At the 300 meter mark, beginning the final straightaway, I picked up my head and tried to PRAY my way to the finish. Not working, I continued to slow down. Some of the runners far ahead of me were already finishing. 70+ year old Sam Benedict in lane 1 was pulling ahead. Then I heard Bonnie shout "Frank, bring the pain! Bring the pain!" Oh, it was painful for sure.
For a second I was wondering if I was about to suffer a cardiac episode. But I kept throwing one leg in front of the other, the finish line was approaching, I saw 1:35 on the clock a couple of steps before crossing the line, and DONE!
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| Still awaiting an official result, but I'm thinking this was a 1:36 finish. |
I was completely out of breath - but I heard Rich Kenah, the Executive Director of the Atlanta Track Club with some words of encouragement, "Nice job, 6-minute mile pace" which I guess was almost true for me. It wasn't a 1:25 performance, but I wasn't the last one to cross the line in my heat. And by that point, I had run over 10 miles for the day, so it was not the best way to prepare for a short sprint race.
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| I reached top speed in the first 100 meters, then gradually decelerated. But I was pleasantly surprised to see that the decline in my speed wasn't as steep as it had felt while I was running. |
As I took an easy cool-down half-mile after the race, I thought to myself, surely I can run these short distances better if I can train for them.
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