Hello Minnesota!
In years past, I have always prepared well the night before a race by eating properly, drinking plenty of water or gatorade and getting to bed early enough to get a full nights sleep. I‘ve failed in other ways; once, I was in the port-a-potty line when the starters pistol fires and had to run 1/4 mile across a parking lot to get to the starting line. But this weekend, for the first time, I failed the night before preparations.
My girlfriend, Erin, and I traveled to Stillwater, MN for our friend Brandon’s ETS party (ETS – expiration, term of service), a celebration of the completion of military service. The weekend’s focus was a party Saturday night to celebrate. We arrived on Friday night, and had pizza and more adult beverages than I normally consume in a single evening. I did however, go to bed shortly after 10 PM, and drank 16 oz of water right before bed. At least I got one thing right.
When my alarm went off on Saturday morning, I was already dressed, and ready for the walk to downtown Stillwater. The morning was nice and cool and the downtown area was bustling with runners grabbing numbers and loading onto the school buses which would drive us north to our starting point. On the bus ride I overheard several comments which lifted my spirits, all of which pertained to the fact that this was a fast, downhill dominated course. I began to believe that even with the malted hops I had consumed, I might be able to duck under the 70 minute mark that I coveted.
The gun fired and we ran in a fluid pack through the curves of the road, a school of fish moving in unison. I found myself looking at my Garmin every 1/3 of a mile or so and thinking that the 6:30 pace was due to the downhill and just roll with it, don’t fight it. But somewhere between mile 4 and 6 there was a short steep hill that made me pay for my arrogance on those initial decents. It broke me pretty good and when I came to the top of it, I realized it’s top was the base of a long, gradual climb. I felt foolish for drinking; I felt more foolish for going out so fast in the first few miles. In all honesty, I think miles 4-7 would have made me give up the pace if it weren’t for me telling people in advance that I would be somewhere near the 70 minute mark. It’s one thing to fail. It’s another to run your arrogant mouth and then fail.
As with all running, the misery gives way, and I was in a comfortable groove as I began to approach downtown Stillwater. The oldtime brick buildings seemed welcoming and as soon as we hit the edge of town, people were in clusters shouting encouragements and clapping. The wonderful rush of being in such a unique place, knowing I had come to the last 1/3 of a mile, and the cheers of the crowd brought me to the last turn with a spring in my step. To my suprise and amazement, all of the wonderful people I had met the night before, and even some who arrived after I went to bed and hadn’t officially met me yet, cheered me as if I was an old friend. To see all of these new friends up early and standing in the hot sun to cheer me on made the effort all worth it. I couldn’t have asked for a better finishing stretch.
I crossed the line with a time of 1:08:19, averaging 6:50 per mile, a full ten seconds per mile faster than I was hoping to run. It was a great feeling, and just one piece of a very memorable weekend. My new friends were amazed that I had just ran 10 miles. I didn’t dare mention what it was part of my training for…
