Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure

This is going to be a long one....

I jolted out of bed at 5:30 a.m. on Saturday, October 2nd, prepared to run a 5k race.  I'm pleased at how nervous I was; there was no chance apathy was going to set in here.  I fiddled with my race number about 10 more times (did I mention that I was nervous?) before heading uptown.  I parked at my friend Matt's place in First Ward so I could stash my keys on his patio and then jogged towards the race site.  It was about 51 degrees outside at 6am - perfect racing conditions!  I was wearing an Under Armour shirt and basketball shorts over my racing kit, so I would need to find a place to stash my stuff and just hope it wouldn't get stolen.

Large expo areas were set up in several of the big parking lots near Bank of America Stadium, and I suddenly became intimidated by the multitudes of people.  There were people everywhere (the Observer reported that there were about 16,000 people who participated), and they were all wearing pink and white.  I reminded myself that this was not a serious race and that I was probably faster than all but 20 of these people.  I started looking for some water - not too much to ask, right?  Volunteers were handing out orange juice, cookies, and potato chips, but I couldn't find water anywhere.  The fifth person I asked looked around at her booth, handed me a bottle and said, "Well, you can have this one, I guess, it's not open."  The exact same scenario played out after the race, too.

Around 6:45 I headed for the starting line at Tryon and 1st Streets, and ducked into the neighboring atrium right by the Ratcliffe on the Green.  I found a bush and decided this would be where I stashed my clothes.  I did some short sprints down Tryon Street to try to get my legs prepared for what would be a much faster pace than that to which they were accustomed.  Not long after that, a woman from WBT got on the microphone and began her emcee duties for the event.  She talked at length about the cause, the event, and many other things, but all I really heard was "all competitive runners need to be at the starting line at 7:15."  With 10 minutes to spare I jogged down to the port-a-jon one last time, headed back to my spot, peeled off my outer clothes, and headed to the line.

I walked right up to the front of the starting line and once again became terrified that I was going to be right at the front of this race.  Not only was John Compton nowhere in sight, but I only saw a couple guys who even looked like they knew what they were doing.  There were two high school kids discussing strategy and a guy in an orange-and-black (we'll call him "Orange Guy") racing kit who looked to be in his mid-thirties to my right and left.  I asked Orange Guy what he was hoping to run and he said, "18:45."  Perfect!  I told him I would like to break 19 and he said he thought I could do it.  Thanks!

With WBT woman continuing to talk, I tried to keep stretching and finally noticed the presence of Mr. Compton.  Orange Guy and I would not be leading this thing.  Good.  WBT woman gave a countdown from 10 to 1 for the start (that was pretty cool), and we were off.  Compton blasted into the lead as one of the high school guys followed right with him, and I tucked in behind Orange Guy was we headed down Tryon and then turned down Morehead Street.  I was cold, half-asleep, and tightening up as my legs tried to get used to sub-six-minute pace (the fastest mile I had turned in any workout before this was about 6:20 pace).  I estimated shortly before the mile mark that I was in 7th place.  I ran stride-for-stride with Orange Guy, who told me, "Just stay with me and you'll break 19, easily." 




The tall guy in the yellow shorts was tired of listening to the emcee and just wanted to race.  On the left, high school kid.  On the right, Orange Guy.

Unfortunately, Orange Guy lost me right before the mile - or at least I think it was right before the mile.  I looked down at my watch right past where I thought the marker was and saw "6:05."  I was running well but fading fast.  We made a couple turns, then headed away from town on Fourth Street and ducked into some neighborhoods.  A lot of people were passing me.  I went from 7th to what I guessed to be about 25th place.  Crowd support was good but once again there was no marker for the 2nd mile.  16,000 competitors and you can't bother to set up mile markers?  Are you kidding me? 
We made it back to Fourth Street for what would be the homestretch of the race.  I started to pick up the pace a little bit, with many of the people who had just passed me well within reach.  We passed the slower runners who were making the turn from 4th into those neighborhoods, and I was in awe of the sight.  So many runners....many of them cheered us and waved as we passed in the opposite direction.  That got me fired up, and then I looked up and saw the finish line about 400 meters ahead.  I'm an idiot.  For what, exactly, was I saving my energy on the 2nd mile?  I'm used to the marathon training, which allows to maintain a certain pace for 10 miles or so, but the 5k pace was a little intense.  I guess I just wasn't totally ready for it.  With that being said, I took off and passed about three guys, and when I realized several more were within reach, I dug down into an all-out sprint up the hill and into the finish line in a time of 19:10, good enough for 15th place.  I was laughing at myself when I crossed the line.

Orange Guy (who I now know was a guy named Marcus Barton), no doubt seeing my little sprint, walked up to me with his hands in the air and said, "I told you to stay with me!"  He actually looked like he was pretty pissed off.  I handed in my chip and then found my old rival, John Compton.  We exchanged pleasantries and briefly talked about the Charlotte Running Club, and he told me that he had in fact won the race in a time of 16:02 (he later told me that due to poor markings, he took a wrong turn in Mile 2 and lost about three seconds, preventing him from breaking 16).  Unlike me, he never quit; he had run collegiately at Wake Forest and was now helping coach at Providence Day.  He told me that the high school kid hung around for awhile before fading, and another runner finished second, about 45 seconds back. 

As for me, well...I noticed before the race that my bib had someone else's name on it, and by then it was far too late to fix this problem.  So, according to the results, someone named "Kroy Presley" finished 15th in a time of 19:10.  I e-mailed the powers that be in the hopes of getting this changed, but by now I've resigned myself to the fact that this was never meant to be a serious race.  I walked away from this effort not overly pleased, but certainly not disappointed.  The fact that I had so much left at the end tells me I could have gone much faster, but I ran a decent time for someone who has been out of racing for many years.  More importantly, I am training for a marathon.  I will view this as a great effort to get back into the racing scene, but mainly as a good speed workout to prepare me for December 11. 

Now, assuming I survive the marathon, the goal is to jump down to the 10k/5k distance in the spring.  Until next time....

Preparation for a race

This past Friday I once again had the pleasure of reuniting with an old friend.  A former teammate and roommate of mine at UNCW, Andy Painter, noticed via Facebook that I had been running and training a lot more these days.  He was coming to Gastonia for a wedding and sent me a message saying that he'd like to run with me at McAlpine.

We met at the Sardis entrance at 9:30am and set off to run the course and back (7 miles).  It was fun catching up with Andy, talking about what all we had been doing over the years and rehashing old memories.  We ran our 7 miles at a leisurely 7:51 pace.  Running in 70-degree weather after dealing with the nineties for five solid months is just fantastic!

As previously discussed, I have decided to run in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 5K.  This past Friday was the eve of that race.  I paid the $35.00 entry fee and picked up my packet at Run For Your Life on Park Road.  Unlike most runners, I never liked to eat pasta before races (you can get the same energy stores from fruits and veggies, without all the cheese and noodles), but I was housesitting for my parents, and that's what was in the fridge.  So I devoured some pasta and proceeded to feel like crap for the next 12 hours. 

I was pretty nervous for this race.  I felt like someone (me??) was going to be really disappointed if I didn't perform well.  But what would be "performing well"?  I only started training seriously as recently as two months ago, and I hadn't run a race of any distance since track season my junior year at UNCW (2003).  I discussed strategy with Eggers and we determined that a time of 18:45 could be doable given how well some of my workouts have been going.  I knew that there were many potential mental blocks from having been out of it for so long but tried not to think about that.  Given my marathon training, I would be going on endurance, not speed, but I felt like 19 minutes was a reachable goal.

Now, here's where things get interesting.  While Komen is a fantastic cause (the proceeds go to breast cancer research for those who don't know), it has never been a very competitive race.  It's really more of a party than anything else.  I was suddenly afraid that a time of 19 minutes or under would put me right at the front of the pack.  I recently joined the Charlotte Running Club, and I e-mailed founder Aaron Linz to ask if any of the local heavy hitters would be suiting up for this one.  He confirmed my point about how the race was not usually competitive but mentioned that John Compton and a guy named Billy Shue would be running in it for sentimental reasons.  Compton was a rival of mine in high school; he ran for Providence Day and was four years younger than me but was already running in the low 17s when he was in eighth grade (my personal best in high school was 17:11).  Knowing those guys would be there relieved any fears I had of having to make a decision at the front of the field.

Friday night, I fiddled with my race number and laid out a black-and-white Nike singlet that I found buried in my closet.  I would also wear my Nike training shoes and some yellow-and-black racing shorts.  I drank several glasses of water, ate some berries, and tried to go to sleep.