Running Man on the rebound: My experience in the Spring 2011 "5 Kelly's 5K" run for the benefit of the leukemia lymphoma Society.

Background:

"... Tis best in word or deed - To shun unholy pride;
Great words of boasting bring great punishments;
And so to gray-haired age - comes wisdom at the last."

    (The Chorus ending of "Antigone" by Sophocles)


A decade ago, I began running 5K races once a year with my children and their friends on New Year's Eve as a family gathering activity.  I prided myself in being able to run, without training, finishing somewhere in the middle of the pack of my children and their friends. As I progressed through my 50s, male menopause and the effects of dining as entertainment took its toll.  It became more difficult to run on a once a year schedule, with the final straw coming in the winter of 2009, when despite a full week of training, I became the laughing stock of our family (I know they were laughing, but I couldn't catch them at it) when I was not able to complete the 5K New Year's race without a short walking break.

This prompted a 2010 New Year Resolution to become a "Running Man", to regain my rightful place as the Beta Male among my family and friends.  I found a "Couch to 5k" Podcast program and targeted a formal race for April in nearby Chatham, NY (Sean's Run 5k).  I set my goal on finishing without walking or anyone laughing at me, hopefully in a time of under 30 minutes (a C+ type accomplishment).  I put in 10 to 12 weeks of running two times a week on the treadmill in my basement.  When the weather broke in March I was able to take a few training runs out of doors.

When the big day came I found myself several pounds lighter and several minutes faster than I had expected.  Could I have discovered the secret that, even without steroids, training and weight loss allows you to run faster?  No matter, I was on my way back to being a family contender.  My hopes were elevated for the New Year's race.  Maybe I could even beat the little brats this year.  All I had to do was to avoid that insidious slip backward into my usual bad habits, such as working and socializing with my friends.

But the fates must have their fun. On a wonderful summer trip to Arizona with good friends, and despite repeated New Age spa purification rituals, I was infected by a desert fungus, which knocked me out of commission for several months.  I wasn't well enough even by the winter to participate in the 2010 New Year's run.  With supportive family, friends and doctors, I found that each month left me stronger than the month before.  Although I had not quite fully recovered, I vowed to re-establish my running mediocrity.  I dusted off the "Couch to 5k" Podcast and found a suitable target race for the spring of 2011, the "5 Kelly's 5K" run for the benefit of the leukemia and lymphoma Society, a timely race, a worthy cause, and a location that was close to my home.

Race Day:

This is the reportage of the event.  Names are omitted to protect the guilty.

Sunday, April 17th, 2011:

I woke up to an absolutely miserable morning. The sky was an opalescent dark gray, the kind familiar to Upstate New Yorkers.  It was cold, windy and damp from the previous evening's steady rain.  I thought about blowing off the run, no harm to the event, because I'd already paid to preregister.  My curiosity of how my body would perform in a real organized run got the better of me.  I had a light breakfast and put on some foul weather running gear and my running shoes and made my way to the event at the Town of Colonie Crossings Park, ahead of the 10 AM starting time.

In the park I found the main registration area. The attendance was poor, maybe 150 runners.  Usually the local 5K runs have maxed out their registrations with over 1,000 runners. I suspect that the region has become saturated with so many events that people may be tiring of them or moving on to bigger and better runs.  No matter, 150 running comrades was okay by me.  I joined the pre-race huddle of competitors who were observing their rituals; stretching, bouncing up and down, blowing on their hands to stave off the coldness and nervously chattering to their neighbors.

Sizing up the competition has become my favorite pre-race activity.  There is a great variety of ages, body types, running attire and paraphernalia to be observed in both genders.  I divide the runners into three general categories:

1) The "Ath-Elites" - There were only a few in this group today. These are the god-like lean and muscled men and women in their 20s or 30s with legs of steel.  To them the run is a serious activity.  They warm up for the 5k by running 10k.  They run as if it's their job.  They don't talk to us mortals and tend to stare off toward Olympus.  They are decked out in trendy, body sculpted "dry fit" attire and sport the latest apparel such as the "foot glove".  These are the people who actually try to win.  I will only see them as they pass me on the return leg of the race.  I once knew such an "Ath-Elite", but he moved to North Carolina.

2) The "Family and Friends" - These are fathers and mothers in their 30s and 40s with their children, single women in pairs of all ages (not past 50) and mixed gender pairs who are dating or want to be dating.  This is the social group.  They talk to everyone, they line up to scarf the pre and post race snacks and they prize the event T-shirts and other freebie event Chotchkies.  They come in all shapes and sizes, wear varied sports attire and often expensive running shoes.  The younger members wear i-devices with earbuds to listen to tunes before, during and after the race.  Some of these runners are surprisingly fast.

3) The "Born-Again Runners" -  In this group are those who are attempting to hold back the sands of time, battle unwanted body shape demons, or are trying to regain something they may never have had in the first place. They are generally middle aged with the occasional senior citizen.  They are fairly social and like to chat.  Hydration is a religious rite to them despite frequent urinary complaints.  They tend to be a decade out of style, like to wear baseball caps, and the women are partial to spandex.  Their running pace is metronomic.  If you tire they will mow you down.  Their Achilles' heel is the lack of a finishing kick.  Stay close to one near the finish and you should overtake them.  Beware!  They won't like you.

Vibram-five-fingers

The prep time is ended and we are herded into the starting area. Because of the relatively low numbers of participants, it isn't very crowded, I am standing somewhere in the middle of the pack - I'm a middle of the pack type of guy, particularly in the running events.  After a few moments we are urged to crowd forward to the starter.  A hand signal is given and the run begins. There is a pace bicycle ahead of the group to show the way through the winding paved paths of the Town of Colonie Crossings Park. This is not an issue to me as I am not going to be in the lead at any time during the race. My task is to follow the fanny in front of me.

Phase I of the run is jockeying for position. In this stage the goal is to find my place and pace.  At the beginning I am wedged in between a number of Family and Friends types; a father with his son and several women with their friends. There is the typical slow initial mass push forward, but because of the limited entrants, the field spreads out rather quickly and I attach to a man and his son who seem to be at my desired pace.  After 100 yards or so I realize they are slightly faster than I am comfortable with, and I drop back behind two Born-Again Runner women replete with spandex and baseball caps.

Phase II is the initial exuberance where nothing hurts, the novelty of the event and fun of being a participant carries me along at a slightly more rapid pace than I would run, left to my own internal clock.  This lasts about 10 minutes or so.  At that point I was in my position -- I had not passed and no one had passed me in several minutes. Fatigue and a little bit of leg burn starts to come into play.  I've worked up a light sweat so I take off my headband and gloves, stuffing them into my windbreaker.  While I am fumbling in my pockets, a small, short haired, capless woman who looks a little like a bag lady passes me.  I watch her ungainly stride and I can't believe how slowly she is moving her legs. Worse, I am obviously going even slower. I quicken my pace a touch but I can't keep up with her. My effort brings me into position behind a new couple of unattractive spandexed middle aged female fannies. I fall in behind them at their pace with a bit of an effort.

Phase III finds me trying to keep up with the spandex in front and behind me.  I don't wish to look back for fear my pursuers will get a mental lift, thinking I'm worried about them passing me.  The occasional trail double backs allow me to scope out my position.  I am maintaining.  I'm fatigued, bored and can't ignore the mild but constant leg muscle burn.  I am not winded however, and I know from training that I can maintain this pace. I try the mental Zenzercises of - no focus - out of body transfer - being the birds and trees - absorbing the wind and the cold... I'm not, never have been, and never will be that kind of guy.  I accept the leg burn, fatigue and boredom and am content to argue with my personal demon who is telling me to "stop just for a little while"... "rest"... "walk just for a little while".

I find a mental respite by watching two of the runners ahead who have developed a cheating routine. Among the doubling back of the trails, one of the runners shortcuts the trail and waits until their friend catches up -- who then takes their turn at the next shortcut across the trail, alternatively resting and shortcutting the course.  I hope they win a pair of running shorts two sizes too small.  The diversion has been useful and has taken me past my mental barrier.  I see a marker sign saying we have run two miles. I internally groan -- another 1.1 miles to go. On the bright side, I have maintained my place among the spandex, maintaining my own metronomic pace, and I have no more burn or fatigue than 10 minutes earlier. As I begin to hit another mental wall, I catch a glimpse of the final portion of the course and the finish area.

Phase IV is seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  This is a good two thirds of a mile away, but the ancient wisdom "Respice finem" (look to the end) is effective.  The visualization gives me my second wind and I begin to unconsciously Zenzercise -- I guess that's the point, although I am still not that kind of guy.  I eat non organic red meat.  Oh but the birds... the breeze... the SPANDEX?  After a number of more minutes, I realize that my pace has picked up and I have a chance of catching those in front of me, but they seem to also have picked up their pace.  Spandexers aren't supposed to do that!  

Phase V is the final quarter mile, the chance for glory!  Out of no-where a fully adorned Ath-Elite, foot gloves and all, breezes past me like a gazelle.  Is this a runner who was already finished and is lapping me on a cool-down 5k?  More likely this is a Family and Friends / Ath-Elite hybrid who started out with a slower friend runner until he could no longer stand the thought of people like me beating him.  I gaze in admiration -- he is a sight to behold and continues a full quarter mile sprint pace to the finish. Then, while I am distracted, two younger Family and Friends women also pass me. One of the women, a redhead with a pony-tail in dry fits, turns around and laughs.

The real competition is now on. I quicken my pace, they quicken theirs. We pass the two spandexers in front. Unexpectedly, the friend of the pony-tailed woman tires and holds up -- the redhead is obligated to slow her pace, allowing me to pass them both in the final 100 yards.  The times are announced as we pass the finish line, I was in queue to get my card with my place of finish, and the pony-tailed redhead tries to cut ahead in line but is quickly chastised back into her place by one of the event officials. She could've taken a shortcut on one of the double backs. I wouldn't have told.  Perhaps she did.

My time is better than I had hoped, breaking my own optimistic goal at 29:47 with the perverse joy of frustrating a couple of young women who couldn't pull off an upset, not to mention passing a few spandexers.  There is the satisfaction of achievement, standing around among those who have finished the race, complementary water bottles in hand. Friendly smiles, boastful banter and rosy cheeks. I avoid the majority of the post-race snacking foods but can't resist a mini-muffin and home-made oatmeal cookie which I snarf on my way back to my car.  I was a contender among the Born-Again Runners and Family and Friends, particularly in the over 50 crowd. I don't care about the Ath-Elites.  I am a bit uncomfortable that I saw no one older than myself in the race.  Watch out my children -- New Year's 2012 isn't that far away!