10K Dash (no Splash)

Ah, those Road Runners folks had us all geared up for the annual Dash & Splash this past Saturday, only to realize too late that there would be no splash due to the fact that the pool is empty until July. Oh well, I never splash anyway, though it sure would have been nice as the 10K Dash was a humid one. I went out all by my lonesome, taking a cab up to the start at 102 at the East Drive of Central Park. Though I appreciate the start of this race because it's not my typical route, it does mean Cat Hill is at miles 4 & 5, so I knew I was in for a challenge. My goal was to race, hit a pr of 52 minutes, and be uncomfortable most of the way through. I accomplished two out of three.

Out of the gate I started at a good pace; I decided to find a faster runner and trail her as long as I could. But, the faster runner I chose slowed down a bit going up the Harlem Hill, so I passed her and looked for another runner to trail. At the mile one marker I looked at my watch and hit 9 minutes exactly. Feeling good I decided to pick it up a bit. Meanwhile, a girl in pink shorts was ahead of me; I tried to keep up with her, but realized quickly that she was going too fast and I'd never make it if I tried to go at her pace. So, I ran with myself for the next mile and at mile 2 I was at an 8:40 pace.

I passed a drink station just past mile 2; it was definitely humid, but I was feeling ok and decided not to fight the crowd. So, I'm moving along, feeling good...until I realize that I actually forgot to drink water before the start of the race. My mind traveled back to my morning. OK, I was in the kitchen, I made coffee, ate half a banana, took Phoebe out, drank my coffee, damn I'm running late, put Phoebe in her crate, dashed out the door to catch a cab...nope, no water. My mind comes back to the race and I start to have a mild panic attack, which clearly has a great affect on my pace because at mile 3 I was just below 8:40 and looking for water and gatorade, which I find just beyond the clock. As I grab both, drinking some of the water and pouring the rest over my head, then sipping some of the gatorade, I notice a short runner in a NY Flyers tank. She's got short hair and she's running at a good pace and she reminds me of my friend Nancy, so I decide to follow her, which I do pretty successfully. We're going at the same pace, and every time I start to slow down she's just a bit ahead, which motivates me to pick it up. It's getting harder, though. I'm sure I didn't eat enough (half a banana and coffee?) and I'm starting to feel my energy lessen. Plus, there's Cat Hill straight ahead and I am not feeling it. My NY Flyer woman is plugging along so I stay with her. Just as we're hitting the incline, though, NY Flyer disappears. I look back. She's walking. I look ahead of me and decide I don't want to walk, so I dig in to the hill. I know my posture is horrible at this point and pray there are no Brightroom paparazzi lurking. As I get to the top NY Flyer woman is back. She comes right up next to me and says "You're running at an even pace", to which I reply "I've been trying to stay with you", and she says "I've been trying to stay with you", and I say "Good". So for the last two miles NY Flyer and I help each other to the finish. I look at my watch and see that somewhere along the way, probably on Cat Hill, I've lost some time. It doesn't look like I'm going to make 52 minutes, but 53 is still a possibility. I try to speed up, but I'm struggling. By mile 5 3/4 NY Flyer has picked up the pace and is in a mild sprint, which I try to copy, but it's not happening. We loose each other at the last .2 and I cross the finish line at --- 54:20. How did that happen? Did I really loose that much time the last 1/2 of the race? I'm disappointed, so I start berating myself for not eating enough, not drinking enough, not pushing harder...until I see the volunteers are passing out popsicles, some of which are coconut flavored. Suddenly, I don't care about my time anymore; I just want a coconut popsicle. Phoebe and I are very much alike in this way. Our troubles are easily comforted by delicious treats.

I decide to take the bus home, another thing I don't do very often, but something I enjoy after a race that starts on 102nd Street. It's so easy to catch the bus. And, this time is no exception. Lots of runners are on the bus, too. One guy asks me how things went. I tell him great. He says he started out too fast. I say Cat Hill got me. He gets off the bus.

When I get home I let Phoebe lick my legs. She doesn't care about my time; she's just happy for the salt and the attention.