This one was the 5k Roche Run, which I ran last year, too. Kind of a sad back story: the race is named for two brothers, both of whom died young. The proceeds go to a scholarship fund for the daughter of one of the brothers.
It was run in beautiful Brooksvale Park and on the Farmington Canal Trail that borders it.
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Seems like I always have an excuse for a run that doesn't go as well as I'd hoped (though I never use The Great Big Excuse). This one was no different: I thought I'd be done in by a tag sale.
Friends of ours called Friday afternoon and said they were putting together a last-minute tag sale for Saturday morning, and asked if we had any stuff we wanted to get rid of that we'd like to drag over to their front yard. Before I could even get to the stuff we wanted to sell, I had to drag down 10 boxes of baby clothes from the attic and bring them to Goodwill. Then we cleaned out a few things from the attic, basement, and garage. Not much, just big stuff that was in good shape. I twisted my knee trying to move around all the crap that was still in my way, but it wasn't too bad by the time I went to bed. But I was still concerned.
In the end, we made $55 at the tag sale, and I'm a little closer to reclaiming my workshop, which had become a storage area. (Of course, the workshop might be turned into a music studio soon, but that's a blog post for another time.)
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Saturday morning was downright chilly -- sunny, but about 53 degrees and windy at race time. I was exhausted from dragging stuff over to our friends' house at 7:00am.
There wasn't too big a crowd for the race, which was nice. I hate it when it's all crowded. I started out as part of a pack that gradually thinned out. My twisted knee started hurting about 5 minutes into the race, and when I sped up a little bit to pass a non-race participant (the Canal Trail is a public biking/running/walking trail, and it's busy on Saturday mornings), my legs rebeled. I slowed down, and the people I had been passing started to pass me. I was sure I was going to have a lousy time.
I eventually settled into a groove, one that let my legs go without hurting too much, and at the half-way point, I was pleased with my time, which would put me close to 30 minutes, my goal.
I always like to pick someone early on in the race that I want to keep up with or pass (usually one of those few people in the race who is fatter than me). This time, it was a young woman running with her dog, a Jack Russell Terrier. Boy, that dog could run. I stayed with them for a while, but near the tunaround, they pulled away from me. I really wanted to shout, "No, lady, slow down! My kids will never let me live it down if I get beaten by your dog!" But I kept them in sight, and by about the two mile mark, the little guy gave it up. I passed and didn't look back.
Not exactly a banner day when the best thing that happened is that you didn't get beaten by a 15 pound dog.
I was still in that groove for the rest of the race, and when we turned off the Trail and back into the park, I knew I had about a third of a mile to go. My goal had been to break 30 minutes again, and when I checked my watch at the turnoff, I thought I might have a shot at breaking 29. Might have done it, but some walkers blocked my path. (Nah -- I probably wouldn't have done it even without the walkers.)I did have a little left at the end to do something like a sprint for the last 200 yards or so. That's me "sprinting" in the picture above.
Overall, I was pleased, given how bad I felt at the beginning. They haven't posted official results (and I'm guessing they're not going to, since no one collected my bib number at the finish), so I don't know how many runners overall or where in the pack I finished. That's fine -- I was pleased with my 9:22 per mile pace. I'm inching it back downward.
For an old fat guy with cancer, I do OK.
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