On Saturday, Sept. 6, I ran in the Ollie 5-Mile race in South Boston, which also served as the USATF-NE 5-Mile Championship. The race is very competitive, drawing top runners from around the region. The course is fast, or would be if the race didn't always seem to fall on one of the steamiest weekends of the fall. It was brutal last year, and only slightly better (cooler, but perhaps more humid) this year.
My goal for the race was fairly simple: avoid a repeat of the 2007 race. I've told the story elsewhere, but basically it was a horror show of heat, humidity, and the first ominous signs of "the injury."
I had a lot of motivation to run better this year.
In practical terms, I wanted to run 6:00 miles. In fact, that had been my goal last year, too, but last year I had run the first mile in 6:00 exactly and felt like crap, slowing with each successive mile until I was trudging along at 7:00 pace by the end.
This year, I had better omens leading up to the race -- many weeks of steady training with little discomfort, several weeks of modest interval workouts, and good tempo efforts at Newburyport (long) and Fresh Pond (short). So I was in a positive frame of mind as I returned to the scene of last year's carnage.
The weather forecast had called for heavy rain Friday night and early Saturday morning, and then again Saturday night. In between, there was a break. In South Boston, at least, there was almost no precipitation leading up and during the race. The humidity, however, was incredible. the air felt thick and heavy, and sweat gathered on the skin and stayed there, having nowhere to evaporate to.
When the gun went off, I started slowly, immediately obstructing the hotheads behind me who were hell-bent on running themselves into heat distress as soon as possible. I spent the entire first mile telling myself to relax, to control the urge to match the pace of runners going by on either side. There is a short, but significant hill leading up to the 1-mile mark, and I consciously slowed down at that point. I passed the mile in 5:58, taking a moment to hail Brookline standout David Wilson, who was volunteering at the race and calling out splits.
The second mile began with a gradual downhill to Day Boulevard. I tried to maintain my effort without getting too excited. When I passed two miles in 11:56, I knew that if nothing else, this was not going to be a repeat of last year. Actually, I was suprised that I felt no serious discomfort. I was settled into a pace that I thought I could maintain for quite a while, and what was even better, other runners were starting to come back to me. I passed the venerable veteran Larry Olsen right after two miles, took the turnaround and started thinking about a group 30 meters ahead that looked vulnerable.
At three miles, the split was 17:55 and two more miles didn't seem very far at all. I was definitely aware of the heat and humidity, but I had the wonderful feeling of being locked in to a pace, and continued to enjoy a feeling of control over what was happening around me. There is a tremendous satisfaction when all of the running systems are operating normally, and that was what this was like -- legs, lungs, arms, head, all operating as expected, all doing their jobs.
In 2007, the fourth mile had been my undoing, and even now, I felt like I was whistling past the graveyard, as I tried to keep my pace steady while catching another pair of runners and going by them. The four mile split was 23:51.
It was hot! In the final mile, I finally started suffering, as I tried to measure my effort against the remaining distance. After I had gotten the four mile split, I remember thinking that I had only to run 6:08 to break 30:00, and I wondered whether I could hold my pace long enough to do that. With a little less than a half mile to go, I had forgotten all that, and I had entered that claustrophobic world of trying to eke out one more place, a couple more seconds. The ease of the early miles was gone now, and I felt a bit dizzy from the humidity. I took the last turn feeling extremely grateful that it was the last turn, and managed just enough of a sprint to hold off a much younger guy who looked like he had been out very fast and had paid the price.
As I approached the finish line clock, I was surprised and pleased to see it reading 29:36. It would take a while before my brain was capable of simple math skills, but after I had stopped and spent several minutes in the finish chute removing the chip from my shoes, I realized I had run the last mile in 5:45.
...
I want to acknowledge Josh for painting such a vivid picture of my meltdown last year, and for all his encouragement to do better this year.
I also want to say thanks to Dr. Bob for his help diagnosing and treating my physical problems. I think I'm finally ready to start writing that "alternate ending" we talked about a couple of months ago.
"Ollie" 5M Race Results
