Race Report: Apple Harvest 10-Miler

I ran the "Apple Harvest Ramble" yesterday, a 10M race up and down the hills of Harvard, Mass. If you've ever wondered why the Bromfield girls are so good, all you have to do is run a little bit in their backyard to understand. The countryside is absolutely breathtaking, and the terrain is absolutely staggering.

As for my race, I didn't know what to expect. I have been struggling through the worst stretch of racing in my life, including meltdowns at the Newburyport 10M race at the end of July, and a worse-than-bad performance at the New England 5M championship two weeks ago. That race, run in 90 degree heat, was humbling, and had led me to wonder whether I could hold ANY pace for ten miles.

So on Sunday my goal was pretty simple: I wanted to run the whole way with no walking.

I started out in the middle of the pack, and ambled forward slowly at the gun. I jogged down a long gradual hill in the first mile with no aspirations, and was surprised to hit the first mile in 6:25. A few weeks ago, I would have considered that to be a decent training pace, but I wanted nothing faster. I settled in to comfortable rhythm, and tried to enjoy the scenery.

It is an obvious point, but one that bears repeating, that it is a lot more fun to pass people than to be passed. After a couple of miles, I found that I was passing people without effort. This made me feel better about myself, and as I felt better, I ran better. Gradually, I started picking up the pace. only a little at first, because I still didn't trust my fitness or pace judgment. At my modest pace, I found that going up the hills wasn't much of a problem, and I actually started looking forward to them. I passed 5 miles in 31:41, and I felt fine. I was enjoying myself.

It feels a little but shameful to admit that I wasn't "racing" in the sense of running all out for the best possible time right from the gun. But I throw myself on the mercy of the court: in my previous race, I had struggled -- and failed -- to run 6:15 pace for five miles. Maybe it had been the heat that day, but I was taking no chances. I needed in the worst way to feel good. And feeling good wasn't about taking it easy. I was trying to get a little confidence back. Running and racing can be a roller coaster, and a bad race can plunge you into doubt about your fitness, about your toughness, and even about whether you should be running at all. I had been wallowing with all three of those demons, and I was ready - really ready -- to feel good in a race again.

In the final miles of the race, I felt better and better, and as a consequence, I ran faster. With two miles to go, I saw a familiar form in the distance -- a rival who had run aggressively from the start and was paying the price. I decided I wanted to beat him, and a mile later I found myself passing him with no resistance.

The race finished with a long, steep uphill, followed by 200 meters downhill to the finish. I ran the last mile, including this challenging hill, in about 6:15. Final time: 62:45. That's pretty slow compared to last year, but pretty fast compared to two weeks ago. I felt more relief than pride. Relief that I had been able to run with positive thoughts in my head in the final stages of the race.