This was another race I didn’t think I was going to do. I had skipped a lot of training because in early September, I was recovering from the SOS Triathlon, and starting in mid-September I had a series of new or renewed injuries: bronchitis, a recurring asthmatic cough, plantar fasciitis (“PF” to its friends, if it had any friends) in my left foot; and a new swim drill temporarily tweaked a shoulder blade. The problem with getting older is the parts wearing out…
But this was such a reasonable and accessible and beautiful race: starting at 9 a.m. rather than the crack of dawn; parking at the Phelps Hospital in Sleepy Hollow, only 20 minutes up the road from my home; and gorgeous, groomed trails in the Rockefeller Preserve. Estimated 1,000 to 1,500 feet of elevation… So, it’s hilly but gorgeous. I went in with no expectations: say, 10:00 minute/mile, and anything faster than 2:10 hours would be sufficient. 44 degrees and sunny.
Felt that rush of anxiety as we started; heart rate kicked up, trying to pace calmly, but all these people rushing out ahead; they look so strong and I don’t know whether my foot pain is going to stop me from finishing. Kept focusing on landing on the balls of my feet, which felt unnatural but relieved the pressure on my arches. And when I recognized that I was slipping into self-criticizing, I cleared it away.
“When you’re smiling… the whole world smiles with you.” Kept beating back the doubts — oh, no, this feels like it might be too fast; oh, no, the PF is kicking in at Mile 3; oh, no, all these people are PASSING me — with a mental broom, sweeping them to the sides and looking straight ahead at a gorgeous fall day, perfect sunny weather, Maybe I’m faster when I smile. The gravel, sandy trail is slipprery, but it’s what everyone else is running on.
After a turnaround at a hilltop, at Mile 8, a half dozen of us are at a crossroads and there’s nobody and no sign to tell us where to go! I say, “I know when we came from that way, there were runners coming towards us….” Just as we started in that direction, the lead runners came BACK from that trail! Turns out they had made the wrong turn. I could feel badly that they added an extra half mile, but frankly, I’ve done that more than once (Stissing Sprint, Brooklyn Duathlon, New England 70.3 to be exact), and each of us is responsible for knowing the course…
Just kept turning it on, tuning out the discomfort, doing what was sustainable. At Mile 10, kicked it up a little. The final, steep hill was the topic of much post-race groans, but frankly, I was feeling strong and thought I had farther to go because… the race (for those of us who ran the actual course) was only 12.6 instead of 13.1 miles.
Matt (friend from the JCC pool and another triathlete) and his young son Ross handed out the wooden “medals” at the finish line – so good to see them and to be DONE.
Turns out, my time was 1:53:03 which meant 8:54 min/mile (because the course was shorter than 13.1 miles) — a lot better than expected. And fast enough to win for the 60-69 age group. 1/12 AG, 41/217 OA.
Despite some initial and recurring doubts (swept away by re-imagining the present), a great finish to a great season.
