The race began on a nice stretch of lonely road near the center of the island. Most people were warming up in an old Indian Cemetery (macabre I know, but still cool), T-shirts were handed out, numbers, etc. A quick estimate of the distance led me to guess around an hour to finish but after warm up run in the humidity I mentally amended this to around 1:15. The weather at this point was still moderately sunny but sticky, I was starting to sweat just warming up. Alicia gave me a good luck kiss and I jogged down the 300 yards or so to the race start.
Not feeling my best I took a position closer to the middle of the corral than I usually do and did my usual pre-race nervous stretches and only then realized I hadn't brought GUs or my iPod. Oh well, something always falls through, good thing I wasn't go to be to aggressive on this race, ehh?
Well the gun went off a little bit after 1:30 and the pack starts it's usual canter over the line. Within about 20 steps I had already passed nearly the entire group, I remember thinking "Why isn't anyone going anywhere?" before I got that 'blood in the water' scent. Oh man, I'm only going 60% and I'm already in the first 10 runners... so, yeah off I went. Within 30 seconds of the race start, I was in first place. By the time I turned that first corner and saw the spot where the bus dropped us, I was a good 100 yards in front of the second place runner. When I saw the pace car start it's engine and lights and pull away from the spectators it actually hit me, "Oh man... I'm actually in... in first place..." So for a good 20 minutes it was just Steve and the pace car. I passed spectators who jumped up with the pace car and start cheering me on as I went past. I smiled and thanked the ambulances parked every 3/4 of a mile or so. It feellllt goooood.
But then around mile 2.5 it hit me. Damn it's hot. We hadn't passed the first water station yet and my shirt was well soaked through. I had started hearing the foot falls of another runner a little while ago and I was starting to see a shadow over my left shoulder. I battled him for a little bit, cutting him off when we tried to over take me, yelling well before hand to grab water at the first station and indeed picking up a few seconds on him. In all honesty I just wanted to pass where-ever Alicia had parked herself and just show off "Hey! I'm in first place! Check that out!" but by mile 3 I knew I couldn't match this guy and backed off. He over took me just before we crested a big turn and did spy Alicia fumbling to get out her camera - didn't I say it would be a slow day for me? I continued for the next mile or so enjoying second place all to my lonesome.
Then again around mile 4 the heat picked up, only 1 water station so far? No gatorade? Jeez, this heat was lethal. Pretty shortly after that the number 3 racer caught up to me and mad did we fight it out. From mile 4 until mile 8.5 or so we matched each other stride by stride. The only sounds I could focus on were the clumping of our feet and our breathing. I spent a good half-hour pondering nothing else than the differences in our breathing rhythms. His was a deep through gasp that sounds almost like a full glottal stop, froggy, like he was chugging a gallon of water. It was even and constant. 'gulp... .gulp....gulp...gulp' My own breathing on the other hand has a uneven syncopation to it. deep breath, shallow exhale, shallow breath, deep exhale, a sort of onnnnneee, twothree, fouuuurrrr that I chant in my head. For four miles I don't think we ever separated by more than 20 feet. With the beats of our breathing, our foot falls, the blood churning in my head, my turnover felt like an instrument in a orchestra kept by a demanding conductor, I couldn't let the pace slacken, 1..2..3..4..
Strategies formed in my head, "I'm damn tired and uncomfortable so he must be. Maybe if I just let him set the pace, he'll be focusing more on me and he'll get tired emotionally faster than I can get tired physically, that'll be my advantage to beat him." or "Just stay on his heels and than out-sprint him.." A few times we were able to grumble out a few words on how little water there was on the course... Together we grew tired, hot, sweaty, uncomfortable, but we couldn't break the beat. His gulping, our foot falls, my uneven breaths, I remember little else. Finally around mile 7 it occurred to me that I was always beating him a bit on this hills, I would gain around 15 feet or so going up but he would power 20 feet past me going down and I would have to pick it up or else I'd lose him. What's more, with every hill (and that's all this race was... hills) I'd gain less and he'd pick up more. I was losing my power and we both knew it. Finally around mile 8.5 we turned a corner with the final water station, a man was miraculously spraying a hose and we both got dosed (heavenly), a group of kids had the cups on ready. My competitor grabbed two, put one over his head and drank the second instantly and went on. I shouted at the first kid "Just throw them at me" only to see a pair of saucer like eyes stairing... "Please throw them!" Nothing from the first kid, #2 didn't even hold them out. "THROW WATER AT ME!!!" After 5 other kid-statues I just grabbed two cups from the last boy, threw on in my face, drank half the second and by the time I looked up, I had fallen officially into 3rd place. Mr. Gulper was 200 feet in front of me and not letting up a bit.
I remember removing my glasses and placing them on my head (too fogged up to see anything) and checking behind me once or twice but I saw no-one. I cresting the final turn only see the race directors ultimate joke. There was a 700 foot climb to the finish and up I went. I pulled into the chute and saw the clock 59:50...51...52...53... I just couldn't make it! I wanted under and hour so badly. Pushhh! Pusshh! The last thing I saw I went under was 59:59:00 and then I was in the finisher's corral. The volunteers took my tear away label from my bib and I remember saying something about there being no water on the course, I got a smile, "Didn't seem to hurt you too much though!" The last space was a tennis court. There was a trough of ice filled with gatorade (finally). To give you an idea, the ice was steaming like boiling water in the heat of the day. I drank one bottle at a draught and drew a second before placing myself under a hose. The cold water was sooo good I nearly collapsed. Every muscle in my legs strained to stay up, balanced.
The Gulper's name was Serge and he was from Colombia. We shook hands and spent a moment just laughing at each other before he put an arm around me and told me that I had lost the race on the hills. "But, you were started in #1 place!" He laughed. "You will be a great runner. I run one hundred race a year! You just learn the hills, take it easy, don't push, then you beat me." With a final handshake I left the court.
I walked off the race with Alicia, took a dip in the pool (the raced ended in a yacht club of some sort) and saw the results. I finished in 1:00:00 exactly and finished 3rd over all and 1st AG 21-29. For the first time I took home a trophy, a small metal cup on a wooden stand. We took the bus back I suppose.. I was tired... I needed and took a nap, ate a big bowl of seafood paella, did some hardcore snuggling, and slept like the dead.
Coming up - NYRR Half-Marathon Grand Prix - Queens 9/14/08 13.1 miles
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