Thursday, October 16, 2008

I finished third!*

BUT, honesty compels me to mention that I was the third of three females in the Catholic League Open Cross Country 5k race, held on Belmont Plateau, 10/15/08, a race very ably directed by Dave Thomas, who this year provided--so appropriately for an autumn event that follows directly on the heels of school races--a box full of shiny crisp apples as well as plentiful water.

Normally, this event is held on weekends, but this year, it was changed to a Wednesday, and thus turn-out was lighter than normal. Yet, the size of the crowd didn't diminish the size of our enthusiasm.

The weather cooperated relatively well, certainly better than last year's mud and rain soaked day. Although the high school students were racing in the warmer parts of the day, by 5 p.m. when the open race began, the weather had become if not autumn-crisp, a tad cooler, and I could even feel a light breeze at the top of Flagpole Hill.


My goals for this race were modest, since it came the day after the Tues. night workout:

--to support the while getting in my Wednesday run,

--enjoy the experience, and

--perhaps beat my best time in this race, which, let me tell you, is a very soft record--I think about 30:50ish.

My time was 31:25, so that last goal didn't happen, but no worries. The other two goals would still be covered. And even if the time wasn't my fastest, it wasn't my slowest either.

The race itself:
What I don't understand about myself is how I manage to forget how "sneaky steep" Flagpole Hill is.

This time my memory was slightly better. For those unfamiliar with the race course, runners experience Flagpole Hill almost immediately after starting. Standing on the starting line, the runner can see a tree-lined trail that leads up what looks from the start like a gentle rise.... but sucks the air out of the lungs in short order. Starting conservatively, I quickly found myself at the end of the pack, but close behind a man wearing a knee brace. And despite my humble position in the race, my competitive side still kicked in. Although I chose not to worry about passing my rival for second-last place right away, I found myself assessing how far he'd get before the knee banded by the brace would start to feel the effects of this roller-coaster course. Not to say I felt no sympathy. I've had my battles with knee problems, so I admired his bravery in taking on the race. But I still wanted to beat him. ;)


Flagpole mercifully finished, I had the joy of running along a grassy almost level stretch that eventually leads downhill, through a parking lot, past playing fields--at which point I passed my rival, then passed the finish line, and headed into the woods toward the infamous Parachute Hill.

First mile time was 9:39. I'd pretty much caught my breath after that uphill start, and didn't feel overly taxed. But I knew what was ahead: Parachute tends to chew up race times and spit them out misshapen and bearing teeth marks.

This hill, though, at least states its intentions clearly. You have to crane your neck to appreciate its height. Having experienced Belmont Plateau in the past, I chose to forgo the neck craning and take the hill piece by piece. It does not, despite rumors to the contrary among runners laboring upward, rise forever. It only seems to. The runner thinks, "I must be almost at the top." But still more uphill that even a craned neck can miss.

Parachute, however, offers a fun downhill ride if you can keep your feet. Rocks lie in wait and the runner hopes none have her name on them, as one did on Sunday in the first mile or so of my long run--I finished that run, by the way, but I didn't make it look pretty. Fall racing is a lovely thing--racing falls, not so lovely. So I took the downhill cautiously and stayed on my feet. (Oh yes, another race goal with Sunday in mind: to complete the course while remaining upright.) :)

Back through the woods to Flagpole for the second time. For some reason, this time it didn't take my breath away as it had earlier. I'd already survived it once, knew it was the last serious uphill, and so was psyched. And still ahead of my rival.

But well behind the rest of the runners. Off in the distance, as I romped over that grassy stretch for the second time, came a booming voice announcing the results of the high school competition. Attention was focused there, as I made my solitary way around the course. Did I mind this? Not a bit! I had the course almost to myself, and the sky was turning a deeper blue as day slid into evening. Off on the horizon, the cityscape... framed by fields and woods, reminding me that city and country embraced each other. Away from the stresses of the city, I would return to them recharged, energized. Exactly what running should be!

Who was behind me? Who ahead of me? It didn't matter right then. I was where I needed to be. I was doing what I wanted to do.

Soon--too soon (in spite of my near-back-of-pack finish)--it would be over. As I made the final turn to the finish, woman number two (doing her cooldown) came to cheer me on. Some scattered cheers erupted as I finished.

A little later, my rival for second-last place came in, so just as my female competitor came out to encourage me, I trotted out to offer support to him.

And then there followed some relaxed chatting, awards, and modeling the new Greater Philadelphia Track Club (formerly the PAC Track Club) warm-up suit I'd bought. First time I've had warm-ups that match. Perhaps that means I will run faster--one continuous flow of royal blue... one continuous line of energy, no competing colors (unless I decide to wear, say, a purple and lime green t-shirt under it). :)

Awards:
On the starting line, I learned that with only three women in the race, I had a lock on third place female! All good!

The men had more competition, but my GPTC team-mates all delivered strong performances with Kevin Forde--like me only WAAAAY faster and with a bunch more finishing after him--taking third overall.

As it's part of the USATF off-road series, I was glad I could be there: no other female member of GPTC had come, so they would not have had a full team without me. Although I couldn't offer speed, at least I could offer presence.

Local running standout Gary Fanelli (U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials, 1908 and 1984 as well as winning and placing in both open and masters' divisions of area races) showed up resplendent in Hawaiian shirt to watch the racing, although he declined to join the open race. "I already ran ten miles," he told us.

But he happily cheered on the runners and traded racing stories with us.

Finally...
It was one of those lovely, magic mid-week respites from the rush and bustle of work. Wall Street and its problems faded away and the talk was of the strong LaSalle JV and the O'Hara girls, and the open competitors whose numbers included both public school and recent alumni lightning bolts--and a 9-year-old boy running with his dad--and a silver-haired man... and paces ranging from 5something to 11something per mile. And all of us celebrating running and the passion we bring to it.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home