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| 7 am view |
My race repot and reflections here on the 10K trail run - I’d rested the day before - on purpose. No running, no workouts, nothing. I like putting my legs in time-out so that on race day they feel fresh, fired up, and slightly annoyed enough to want to move.
Unfortunately, I also had a macchiato.
I did not fully appreciate what caffeine would do to me. I tossed and turned until about 3 a.m. Normally, playing a word game on my tablet knocks me right out, but not this time! I was wide awake. Alert. I even won a couple of games, which only made things worse. Somewhere in that haze, I RSVP’d to a few events and nearly bought something off my Amazon wish list. (Thankfully, it stayed in my cart.)
Two hours of sleep. One big hill. 6.2 miles.
This was going to be an adventure!!!
I always say I’m not going to race, that I’m just going to run “comfortably hard,” whatever that means. But inevitably, the competitive switch flips, and suddenly I’m thinking strategy more than effort.
Parking was easy. Bib pickup was smooth. The shirts were actually cool - one of the perks of Whoos. I scanned the crowd, wondering how many people had signed up for the 50K and 25K that had started an hour earlier. I felt immediate relief knowing I was not in that group today. Confidence for the 10K started to build.
There couldn’t have been more than 20 of us. Everyone looked legit. Fast. That’s when a new goal emerged:
Just don’t finish last.
Someone has to - but that someone was me last year in the 50K, and I had zero interest in a repeat performance.
As we lined up, you could hear watches beeping all around while race director Molly went over the course details. (Side note: Molly is a hardcore ultra runner - 50s, even 100-milers. Thinking about that made this 10K feel like a very reasonable slice of the pie.)
“Ready, set… GO!”
And we were off.
I’m usually good about pacing the first mile, because I’ve hit the wall before, and it’s one of the worst feelings. It’s like magnets suddenly attach your shoes to the ground.
So the plan was to enjoy the trails, take in the scenery, and mentally prepare for the hill waiting at mile two.
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| Shaped like "M" for monster hill |
Before the first mile was even done, several runners passed me. I might’ve been the caboose now, and that was okay. Hills change things.
And then—boom.
It felt like stepping onto an elevator that only went up… while breathing hard. Turbo walking became necessary. A woman in neon pink pants ahead of me jogged steadily the whole way. Somehow, I managed to trail her for the entire climb, alternating between short bursts of running and walking, maybe 10 to 15 steps at a time.
When the trail finally curved, I could hear the course guides cheering. The encouragement helped, but I was winded. My quads started to noodle out.
Too early for noodles.
And then it hit me: This was the race I’d been waiting for. One that challenged me both cardiovascularly and muscularly. Road races don’t usually push me there - you can’t go all out from the start. But this? This demanded something extra.
I walked a few steps at the top of the hill - painful, because the terrain flattened out - but I needed air. Then I jogged. And suddenly, a second wind kicked in. My feet felt light again.
That feeling? One of the best in racing.
I ran through the mile-three aid station. The trail flattened into a tiny roller coaster, maybe 20 feet up and down. After "Monster Hill," my body charged right through it. Best news of all: it was downhill from here.
Downhill running is its own art. I increased my turnover and focused on staying light. It was fun. My obliques kicked in, working to keep everything aligned as my legs pounded fast. I scanned for rocks, but still felt like a barrel rolling downhill.
I clocked my fastest race pace ever: 7:07 per mile.
And then - of course - I got passed. On a downhill. That doesn’t happen often. Her stride looked effortless, and she disappeared ahead. I had to laugh.
I stayed focused on form, but I was having way too much fun. Running fast without feeling out of breath? Magic. At the bottom, I checked my watch.
52 minutes.
One mile left.
Could I break an hour?
The final mile had a slight decline. I pushed. Hikers passed in the opposite direction. I was smiling, they smiled back. The vibe was warm and encouraging, and suddenly the finish line was right there.
I kicked it in, crossed the line, and stopped my watch.
1:01:01.
A new PR.
Shattering my old one of 1:27:36.
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| Time for some stretching and beach relaxation |
