Category: 2025 Races

So, this was a great race in many ways: perfect weather, pretty landscape, good people, solid results (10/40 for AG). But I went deeper into the pain cave than I bargained for. On the one hand, my mental distraction tools didn’t work; on the other hand, I left nothing on the course. (Other than a water bottle.)

The drive up to Springfield, Mass should only have taken 2 hours, but with an accident and a downpour slowing traffic, took 3 ½ hours. So I registered at the MassMutual Convention Center by 3:30 — shortly before registration  closed at 4:00. By that time, they had run out of computer chips (“we’ll leave it on your bicycle, where you rack it”) and by the time I got to the leaky, underground parking lot that served as the Transition area, they had run out of bike racks… So they had us rack in the section reserved for the Pros! (Apparently, all of the Pros were attending Eagleman 70.3 held on the same day.)

The AirBnB proved to be some 5 minutes away, and this “classic, 19th Century mansion” proved to have a beautiful empty ballroom, lovely ground floor living rooms, and 3 floors of rundown, tiny kitchens and bedrooms without curtains.

But by coincidence, another TriEndeavors teammate, Liam McNichols, was staying there as well, with his sister and girlfriend! 

Good thing I was in a mansion full of triathletes, because after getting up at 3:15 (to eat, pack up, park and get to transition at 4:45 in order to set up, wait for the toilets and then walk the mile to swim start), Liam tells me what the Ironman App reports:  the swim is cancelled! Apparently, the runoff from that downpour the day before contaminated the Connecticut River. So, the race wouldn’t begin until 6:40, with a “time trial” bike leg.  (That is, the same as every race: your timing chip triggers your starting time.)

To accommodate 1,161 racers, they said we’d start in bib order — but even though my bib was no. 1141, I was racked with Pros 1-10, so I started with the first racers! Wasn’t sure if I needed my arm warmers, about to begin and took them off, and a race official grabbed them from me and stuffed them into my back pockets…

BAM, we are off and I immediately pull to the right side so faster riders can pass me.  My plan (via Coach Steve) is to ride at RPE (relative perceived exertion) of 4-5 the first 10 miles, RPE 6-7 for Miles 10 to 40 or 45, RPE 7-8 for Miles 45 to 56. The goal is not to get cooked on the ride and to avoid blowing up on the run.  So I work hard to not work too hard.

It’s rolling hills, low 60’s temp and cloudy and I’m staying in control, but definitely feeling the FOMO as dozens then hundreds of people burn past me. At 1 hour, bursitis in my left hip flares up and my power meter shows I drop to 143 watts; I stay as aero as possible, shifting positions as best I can, standing up on the hills just to relieve the pain but that also cranks up my heart rate… somehow I muscle through it, and the bursitis doesn’t flare up again until Hour 2. 

My age apparently is pretty apparent: I get a “Nice job, Sir!” from a spectator, and a white-haired, unshaven, heavy guy on a lawn next to his rusting pickup truck says, “There’s another old-timer.”  I leapfrog with a smiling guy with salt n’ pepper beard and a kerchief under his helmet (Me: “You’re having too much fun!” Him: “Absolutely!” Me: “What’s your age group?” Him: “I’m 41.” Me: “I could be your father!” Him: “It would be an honor!” And then he’s gone, baby, gone…)

I made the rookie mistake of “trying something new on race day”: two nights before, I coated my sunglass/ goggles with a different anti-fogging product, but on race day, they are  so fogged up that I take them off and stuff them into the top of my shirt (checking now and then to make sure they didn’t slip out, like my swim goggles during last year’s SOS race!). Sure enough, my eyes are tearing behind my glasses the rest of the ride, but the sun only peaks out now and then, so I get by without sunglasses.  Inspired by teammate Liam (who said one of his goals was to “crush it on the nutrition”) I keep up with my nutrition plan, shoveling down all the carbs I can while riding.   

Some glorious downhills (I later learn that I maxed out at 43 mph) and I try to crank it up starting at Mile 40 or 45; feeling strong but my wattage doesn’t really increase. Less than a mile from the end, my spare water bottle falls off, and I should stop and get it, but I don’t.   Finish the bike in 2:54:23, averaging 19 mph on a hilly course; normalized power of 178 watts; average heart rate of 122, peaking at 141.  And 19/40 for age group… Go through Transition, feeling enough energy to at least start the run… but I’m dreading the upcoming effort of a half marathon.  

The run is beautiful, sunny, mostly shaded through a “lollipop” course (2 miles out along the handle, two 4.5-mile loops around a park, 2 miles back down the handle) and from the very beginning it’s hard. My first mile, and my heart rate is already at 143 bpm (I’ll be in the 150s if I’m not careful! That’s not sustainable!); when it climbs to 148 bpm, I walk up the hill going into the park (along with a tall woman who looks like an athlete who knows what she’s doing). I get into a groove after the downhill of the first loop (a big man with small children yells, “Look at that smile!”), but I agree with the short woman I’m leapfrogging, “I can’t wait until we can take the sign that says “to Finish” (instead of “Second Loop”).  Twice I get that mixed compliment, “Nice work, Sir!”  (Me: “Please don’t call me ‘Sir’!”). I realize my Garmin is entirely inaccurate —it takes a quarter mile after we pass the mile markers for the watch to ding that I’ve finished a mile — which means that I should NOT care about technology.

But my mental gymnastics of looking to the horizon and pushing away negative thoughts isn’t working, I’m trying to run “lighter ” and stop slapping my feet, my knee hurts going downhill on the second loop (must be IT band, I don’t have knee issues, do I?) and pick up the pace, just kick up the cadence just a little at Mile 8, it’s not feeling stronger, I want to pick it up again at Mile 10 but I can’t, a glorious downhill coming out of the park hitting 7:30 minute/mile for a moment, and other people are burning past me but I just don’t give a damn anymore I’m just trying to finish I can’t get any faster and here’s the finish line and they announce my name and my age and I’m DONE.

And even when I bump into Logan Underkofler, another TriEndeavor teammate, I can’t stop walking, I’m afraid I’ll throw up, and I can’t sit, I’m on the verge of cramping, but salty potato chips and chocolate milk seem doable, slowly, and 20 minutes later my fingers start tingling as if they’d fallen asleep, and I’m left wondering:  how far into the pain cave did I go? I’m wiped out, I don’t know if I ever want to race again, and Coach Steve tells me, “sounds like you did a good job!”

Bottom line: finished the 13.1 miles in 1:55:14 (8:35 minute/mile!), and 10/40 AG (picked up 9 slots from the bike!), 477/1,083 OA. It wasn’t fun, and I wish for that much effort that I had faster results, but I have the satisfaction that I gave it everything I had.

I even hang out all afternoon to see if other age groupers will turn down the chance to go to the 70.3 world championship, and roll down to my slot, but no, I’m not going to Spain in November.

It’s taken me over two weeks to get to writing this, because this beautiful race was the first morning of the INTA (International Trademark Association) annual conference in San Diego, which kept me very busy meeting some of the 10,000 attendees for five days, and then visiting my college roommate before returning to NY just in time for my anniversary, and then catching up with WORK.

Culled from the INTA participants were 99 of us who ran the HM and around 35 more who ran the 5k.

We stayed in hotels near the starting line, and INTA’s local impresario and lifetime runner Larry Binderow (who had bragged about running this race countless times), with tremendous logistics by Jackie Stelling and Chris Bennett (whose name will pop up again) organized a big pasta dinner for us.  And Larry rented a bus to take us the morning of the race from the Courtyard by Marriot to the race —- and then back again after the race!  

Loose self-seeding put me behind the 1:55 hour pacer, but I was hoping to break 1:50. (My 25k winter race pace would result in 1:48, but my Sleepy Hollow Half Marathon was 1:55…). Weather is perfect: 59 Degrees and cloudy (so I wore my hat backwards, despite knowing it’s not a great look on me…) 

Though it would be nice to  run with the INTA folks, I knew that I had to settle into my own  pace and initially dropped my friends — except for Santosh Singh, who passed me around Mile 2, flying past in  in his yellow visor never to be seen again… (finishing in 1:44). I keep checking in:  is my effort a 4 or 5 out of 10? Everything is pretty flat and beautiful until the long descent before The Hill starting at Mile 6.

I’m panting, and slow down on The Hill to 12 min/mile before getting my groove, and about halfway up I’m joined by Matt  Allen (UK) from INTA (whom I didn’t know, but who is wearing the same shirt, which served its purpose of team recognition). Matt and I get each other up and over the series of crests (“the hill just wouldn’t stop!”) without slowing and we average a stunning 8:59 min/mile. Starting the flatter/downhill section, I take a gel, and realize that young Matt is no longer panting and I say “I’ll let you go”, because I’m running MY race, and he goes off into the sunrise, as it were.

The downhills keep on coming, and it is thrilling and I realize I’m having  fun but still worried:  will pounding downhill lead to calf cramps I had at my last HM in March? Will the aching quads give out in some way? So I go as fast as comfortable rather than pushing as fast as possible… And yes, it’s beautiful, until we get to the Second Hill, another mile or so of up up up, and now I’m painfully going as fast as I can, and I manage to pass Chris Bennett. And then another downhill stretch towards the park by the shore and the Finish LIne is finally here!  

And I didn’t even see that Chris passed me.

Bottom line: 1:49:56, just over two minutes faster than Coach Steve predicted (which is my litmus test of success, because he’s awfully good with numbers) and I’m honored to lose to Chris by only 8 seconds.  7/74 AG, 539/4,458 OA. And stunning results by other INTA runners, especially Viviana Erejomovich of Argentina (1:44, 1st in AG), Jerry Walder (UK, 1:34), Eduardo Miravete (Mexico, 1:28, 1st in AG) and Paul Ward-Hutton (Australia, 1:27, 3rd for AG). A beautiful, brutal experience – but for all the complaints about those uphills, the downhills were glorious.

And now… onto the Western Massachusetts 70.3 (that is, a Half Ironman) — on June 8!

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Rockaway….

There was a duathlon (run, bike, run) held next to a time trial bike race (ride, ride, ride) starting in opposite directions on the same flat, straight, cement boardwalk along the Atlantic Ocean beach of Queens (New York).

I got there at 6:30 for a 7:30 a.m. start and was virtually the only person there — other than 5 guys waiting for direction to set up the starting line and the transition area — other than another 60+ athlete:

They eventually set up transition in a long, covered bus stop, where we checked in after dozens of others showed up at 7:00ish, and the race started after 8:00 a.m.

In prior duathlons, I had been told to run 3.1 miles as fast as I can; ride 12 miles as fast as I can; then run 3.1 miles (you got it) as fast as I can.  THIS race, Coach Steve suggested low to medium effort for Run 1; hard but not maximum for the Ride; for Run 2, get used to walk/running again, then hard for first 1.5 miles, harder for 1.5 to 2.5 miles, and fast as possible for the last 1/2 mile.  

And that’s pretty much what I did. Ignored the watch for Run No. 1.  The younger men tore away, pretty much in the order in which they lined up at the starting line,

10 of ‘em shooting past me as I approached the turnaround… Pretty humbling. I dug into feeling solid, relaxed, trying hard not to try too hard. 3.1 miles: done!

Ran down to the transition area — bike racks set up in a long, covered bus stop. It had been COLD, with a lot of wind coming off the ocean, but I had warmed up a lot and didn’t need an extra layer for the ride. Hopped on the bike, shouting out my bib number to a race official, who input the info into his laptop (since we didn’t have any computer chips on the bibs to track us), rode up a short ramp and back onto the boardwalk, this time heading north.

Ah, heading north, with a tailwind… I hadn’t put my watch on the front of the bike (deciding with Steve that I didn’t need the data for such a short ride, and I was working off relative perceived exertion, right?) but kept peeking at my wrist for the speedometer: if I was too comfortable, speed dropped to 19 mph but when I focussed I averaged 22, sometimes 23 mph, which was FUN! Of course, turning around at 3 miles for the each of the two loops, I’m heading back into the wind, and my speed dropped to 18 mph, 17 when I tried to drop to an easier gear and pick up the RPMs (don’t get comfortable! This is a race!).  

This was a 2-loop course, and almost was wiped out as I turned around — someone dressed in black (who I later realized was the guy who came in 1st place) didn’t want to slow down or properly pass me on the right side of the road so he went on the left side and almost hit me as I came around the cone…

Looped again, gone with the wind, then turning around back into the gale and towards the Start/Finish.

Back down to the bus stop, racked my bike, helmet and bike shoes, grabbed those carbon-plated shoes and visor again, and hobbled up the ramp to run south again.  And… after getting used to running, I was able to kick it up to a faster pace! Running towards me after the turnaround is the next guy — far, far ahead of me (“Hello, Number 10!”), and I get to the turnaround and it’s tough to work, and hard to push because whoever’s behind me is WAY behind me and the guy ahead of me is WAY ahead of me

but I’m here to do all that I’m able and with a mile to go I start going as fast as I  can, but that was a little early, half a mile from the end I’m starting to flag but I manage in the last .1 miles to hit a 6:43 min/mile pace.  For a whole 1/10th mile. 

And I smile for the camera.

Bottom line: First  3.1 mile run in 24:28 (7:48 min/mile); 11.7 mile ride in 35:23 (19.6 mph; 20 mph seems to be my white whale…); 3.1 mile run in 23:37 (7:37 min/mile).  1/3 AG, 12/19 OA.  More importantly, a good race: in control, built up and maintained as planned, felt strong and managed to do a negative split (finished faster than started).

Alas, too small a race to merit age group awards (as it is, I won the “55-99 Age Group”!) and I could have left earlier. But it was fun to watch the winners enjoy the podium.

Well, at this race, I fought a good fight. This was my slowest half marathon ever but, spoiler alert (those never work, do they?), still good enough to come in 2nd Place for my age group (that is to say, the Almost Oldest Men).

I’ve done the Sleepy Hollow HM around 4 times before — I’ll have to check the t-shirts. 15-minute drive to a beautiful, part pavement/part groomed trail course along the paths of the Rockefeller Preserve (the “Rockies”).  Weather was sunny and gorgeous. From the very beginning it felt like a good day: chatting with a runner around 40 with a shirt that said “Sometimes Win, Mostly Lose”, I asked what winning and losing mean; finally meeting and getting a hug from Roberta Ruppel, who had been a friend of my mother and was wife of Todd the  race director; meeting other triathletes who commented on my SOS Triathlon shirt (“I did that race in 1985!”); watching Guy with White Hair and White Shirt (ultimately introduced as Brian Murphy) jump to the front of the pack and know that he’s winning my age group, so settle in and do what I can.

Tried to stick with the plan:  take it easy the first 5 miles, ratchet it up miles 5 to 11, go strong miles 11-13.  But this course is really hilly: Big Guy with Shaved Head and Tatoos blurs past on the trail climb from the Hudson River only to walk after cresting (later told me he had cramped up); Route 117 is 1.5 miles of treeless, sunny uphill where I chatted with a young man walking to recover from heartburn, and then some downhill on the way back; the climbs up from Phillipse Manor train station and then up from the lighthouse park and then the last steep, steep hill to the finish line — brutal.  

Around 1,250 feet of elevation over the 13.1 miles. 

The temp went up from 53 to 67 degrees during the race, and I didn’t bring salt tablets.  So between the lack of electolytes, the week of no running to recover from dental surgery, and not enough hill workouts to prep for the pounding, my calves started cramping – alternate legs! – at Mile 8 1/2.   Every few minutes, I’m shouting (more like a “yip!”) from the pain. So my goal shifted from “let’s do a negative split” to “drop the pace so I don’t have to walk”.

Look, under those conditions, I’m not complaining about 1:55:57 (= 8:51 min./mile), even though it was 30” slower per mile than my 25k race with similar terrain a few weeks ago; and I never complain about getting on the podium, 2/15 AG, 174/603 OA.

But I’m finally at a point where I’m not defining my race results by my time, or my standing. Rather, success is feeling strong during a race and enjoying most of it until unleashing the power to get faster at the end. That wasn’t this race.  A good effort, I fought a good fight, the weather was lovely, and the next one will be better.

“By the dawn’s early light…”

“2 states.  4 towns. Innumerable hills.” That’s how the directors of the Buildup to Boston (now in its 47th year!) promote this fourth, final race of the series (5k, 10k, 15k, 25k spread over January to March). Though the hills can’t be counted, the elevation can:   Around 1,400 ft (427 meters) to climb, overall.

Like virtually all of the races in the 2025 series, I didn’t know if I’d do this race, as I had a saxophone gig the night before, and we all changed our clocks at 2 a.m., “Springing forward” (so we’d lose an hour of sleep). And I wasn’t ready for this race, having spent the week before running  only 3 x 1ish hours; and the day before riding for 2.5 hours (“slowly! I’ve got a race tomorrow!”).  But there I was, up at 6 a.m., cylinders clicking and pulling together the race prep, out the door at 7, arrive to check in at 7:45 for an 8:30 start.

Folks along the way were the short, competitive Michael “Torpedo” Rusolo; and moments before the race began, younger Rob with the Jeep (who parked next to me at the last race) gives me a fist bump and reminds me to have fun. The race begins, without a countdown or starting gun as far as I can tell (proving that after all, this is a community race). I decided that the hills won’t bother me if I focus on keeping a chosen level of exertion, rather than maintaining speed going up hill.  

I pass and stay ahead of the heavier Guy in Dark Blue Shirt until Mile 6 or so, and then he inches ahead and eventually leaves me in the dust.  At around Mile 8, there’s young Stephanie, chatting about her upcoming 100-mile race, with a phalanx of 4 other runners chatting about marathons whom I somehow had passed, and two of them are my age groupers.  And that Phalanx of Five jumped ahead (or I fell behind) like the fast bunch of runners at the starting line who take off and seize the distance and are gone before you turn the corner. (The eventual winner was 31-year old Milan Duka of Stamford, who managed to finish in 1:25:03, a blistering pace of 5:29 min/mile!).

In choosing not to race after the faster folks (Tim, young muscular guy, plans to do the Sleepy Hollow Half Marathon as a last training run before Boston and recedes to the distance…), mostly I’m alone, trying to manage an RPE of 4-6 (middle level of exertion) for Mile 1-6; for miles 6-13 (OMG that is feeling like a lot of miles…) an RPE of 6-7; Miles 13-15, RPE of 7-8; and the last .5 miles, RPE 8-10 (though Coach Steve doubted I would have enough juice left to get any faster).  The wise ol’ Coach predicts I’ll finish this in 2:09, at a speed of 8:21 min/mile, and that gives me the incentive to go faster than that, because I’ve beaten most of his predictions. 🙂

I try to stick to the plan, ignoring the watch except to see if it’s time for nutrition (forcing myself to take gels at 0:45, 1:00 hour, and 1:30, each time struggling to get back to a comfortable groove after eating), checking in that I am still under control as I mount those “innumerable hills”, and at the end of the day turns out my heart rate was phenomenally steady (avg. 143 bpm), and I’m taking in the scenery and trying to keep my eyes and thoughts on the horizon, and those folks from the Phalanx of Five chattering away about 90% of racing is “mental”, well, they’re just WRONG, because even if my mental game is relatively positive, the physical part of me is getting worn out by Mile 9 (“3/5ths done! 60%!” No, that’s not a very encouraging thought).

At Mile 10, LOTS of people are passing me, including an older (my age?) short woman who clearly is a marathoner, and the Tall Woman with the Pony Tail trots by (another marathoner), and the heavier Guy with the Blue Shirt is trudging along but trudging faster than I can, and when two young chatty woman catch up and pass me like I’m standing still, I have to admit, it felt like the NYC Marathon: when the runners who are chatty or in Statue of Liberty costumes pass you, you know things aren’t going well.  Ultimately, I couldn’t get much past RPE 7 — working hard enough not to be able to talk (yes, I know, hard to imagine!), but simply not enough juice to get any faster. 

I’m doing the best I can, and I’m running with really solid runners, and I’m only dissatisfied that I’m not DONE yet. At around Mile 13, a young woman in black with a long pony tail walked the beginning of each hill — stops to take phone call! — and ultimately passed and beat me to the Finish Line.

By the time I get to the dirt path lined with orange cones that leads back to the Silvermine Elementary School, I’m alone again and thinking, well, I’ll finally get my warm, dry clothes… and it’s DONE.

But here’s the amazing thing:  I did well! My pace was 8:22 min/mile — only 1 second slower than what Coach Steve had predicted.  Finished in 2:09:53 (and Steve had predicted 2:09:46.  There’s no doubt: the man can crunch his data).

And what’s truly mind blowing, having been surrounded then left in the dust of the Phalanx of Five:  I came in 4/13 for my age group, and 52/110 OA!  What happened to the five to seven other guys in the 60-69 men’s bracket who beat me in the 5, 10 and 15k races? Turns out, two of them didn’t race today; another beat me by only 11 seconds; and another … came in only 8 seconds after me!

  

It just goes to show you, you never know who’s going to show up on race day.

Including yourself.

Back to blogging! This was the third of the 4-part “Boston Buildup” series:  Rowayton 10K on January 19; Ridgefield 15K on January 26; and this 20K was delayed twice because of fresh snow/ice. My results had been satisfactory but inconsistent:  50:10 for the 10K (8:05 min/mile); but 1:20 for the 15k (8:43 min/mile).  The latter hadn’t been approached with a sufficient mindset: more of “I guess I’ll do this because I signed up for it” rather than “Let’s go! It’s time to race! Let me off the leash!”  And it didn’t help to run 15k in trail shoes when it really wasn’t that icy…

Today was somewhat in between. I had tweaked my back swinging kettle bells two days earlier (need to stay focussed and respect the weight!).  And I had a gig the night before so didn’t get to bed until 11:30 before getting up at 6:30, to dress, eat, and drive to arrive by 8:30 a.m. for a 9 a.m start. Still, 7 hours sleep is pretty good for a race day, back felt a little wonky but responded well to squats and other stretches. 

Beautiful day, sunny and 32 degrees. Chatted with the outgoing Rob, 35ish guy who parked his jeep two cars away, who advised that I would “roast” in a thermal shirt plus long sleeve zip up shirt (he was right, so I swapped my recovery t-shirt for the outer layer). At starting line, Yellow Tank-Top Guy was joking with his friends; Gray Pony-Tailed Guy said that there were some strong runners in my age group including “Paul, that guy in the pink hat? He’s wicked fast.”  And young Make-a-Wish Tanktop Guy scoffed at my wearing gloves… 

New race strategy:  rather than planning the milestones by speed or heart rate, I relied on my Relative Perceived Exertion (RPE, on a scale of 1 to 10):  First 5 mile, feel easy (RPE 4-6), then … up the pace (to RPE 6-7) for Miles 6-10. Crank up for Miles 10-11 (RPE 7-8). Then, pull out the stops for the “last mile” (RPE 8-10)! Thank you, Coach Steve (www.triendeavors.com)!

Okay, this doesn’t sound very different from “start slow and easy and get faster in second half” but it felt very different.  First, it let me ignore the watch (except to see the mileage).  Second, RPE 4-6 was more specific than “take it easy,” gave me permission to really ease into it, and to stay in control based on feeling (rather than wanting…) 

And third, chatting in the first few miles with friendly strangers was a lot more fun than revving up for 12.4 miles on my own.  27-year old Alex said he was training for his first marathon, having done a half marathon in 1:21 (!!). So when he took off, I took solace that I could still see him in the distance — 1/4 mile away, then 1/2 mile away, then gone, baby, gone. (He finished 7th overall.)

Kept dialing into RPE 4-6, accepting that rolling terrain made for more exertion but feeling solid and happy and satisfied with a comfortable gait.  A few hills, especially at Mile 5 (just as I cranked up to RPE 6-7), and at the crest I took my 45-minute nutrition.  With water stops only at Miles 3 and 10, it was good to have a water belt, but taking out the gel package broke my rhythm and I could feel my heart rate kick up. That’s okay, this happened on practice runs, just dial back to RPE 6, get it under control and into my happy place.  Beautiful, sunny day, with snow on the trees, what’s not to like?

Mile 5.5 to the end of this “lollipop” course (a loop where the beginning and end are the same) feels like mostly down hill, and I’m loving it.  The descents pound on my quads, which ache from riding indoors the day before, but knees are okay, and the woman in purple I had passed now passes me and is gone over the horizon…

Mile 10 and time to crank it up.  Heavy guy catches up to me and i can hear his heavy foot falls and panting; I’m not going to slow down. Yellow Tank-Top is ahead, with this weird, wrestler’s running style; I’m going to catch him.  Make-A-Wish Tanktop is ahead as well,  and somehow I pass him (though he sticks with me, annoyingly noting “just 2 1/2 miles to go!” Shut up, can’t you see I’m running?) And up ahead, I think it’s Paul, who’s reportedly Wicked Fast, and I pass him! (Alas, later turns out that this guy was “Steve”…). There IS something left in the tank, and there’s the parking lot, cones directing me around a short turn and I’m THERE!

And I’m there 2 1/2 minutes FASTER than last year: 2:42:17 (=8:14 min/mile)!  Coach Steve had predicted (based on my lackluster 15k) that I’d do 2:49! 6/12 for AG (must be the same 5 guys who’ve been ahead at the 10k and 15K), 38/73 for men, 53/121 OA. Among runners who have qualified for Boston? Works for me.

On to the Silvermines 25k next week!