Here are some random thoughts and comments regarding my experience at Boulder this weekend. I ran the Masters’ race. It was my first USATF event. It was the first time I had raced in spikes in 15 years. (Tempus fugit.)
Foremost, I doff my cap to the men and women who toed the line in any one of the six races. I especially commend those at the front who challenged for the victory. I saw some inspired performances.
We spent the day before the race in Denver. My wife and I took our kids to the zoo. Usually I enjoy going to the zoo, but as we walked upon the cold concrete for hours and hours, I could literally feel the spring draining from my legs. It was worth it however, as my two boys really dig the zoo.
I was surprised to see that the race course was marked in miles, as the stated distance for each of the races was in kilometers. (I had spent a good part of the previous week muddling my mind regarding my expected pace for each kilometer. Sigh.)
The day dawned foggy, but by midmorning the sky was mostly blue and the temperature was very comfortable. (I felt a touch of chagrin for those who overdressed for the race.)
I secretly hoped that the morning would stay cold, in order to help the course retain its firmness. Nevertheless, the course became noticeably softer on each lap of my race. When I raced, the muck was only surface deep. Obviously it got deeper as the day wore on.
I thought "the ditch" was a perfectly reasonable impediment. I took a different line each time I approached it. I didn't fall. I didn't lose a shoe. (I used spikes about 5/16 of an inch long. I experienced no slipping.)
The crowd was fantastic. Rarely (never?) have I run before such an appreciative audience.
More than anything, I very much enjoyed the camaraderie amongst the fellows who ran the Masters’ race. Probably most of us have been running for at least 25 or 30 years. I reckon we've all experienced our share of good days and bad days, victories and personal defeats, grins and tears.
My wife and I have two boys. Our older son is a talented swimmer. Our younger son hopes to be a runner like his old man. I think their seeing the spectacle of this past weekend may encourage each of them to appreciate the effort that is necessary for sport and how sport can sometimes continue into (aged!) adulthood.
I didn't run a great race. I got out of the box a little quicker than I might have otherwise in order to have positioning for getting to the first tight turn to the right. I went through the first mile in 5:30. Through the balance of the race I mostly held position. I let my mind wander during laps 2 and 3, and lost a little time because of that. (I was also listening to the PA describe the action up front between Pete and the other two fellows.)
Somewhat to my regret, I did not summon the strength to stay with one of my running friends as the race wound down. To his credit, he put about nine seconds on me in the final lap.
I wish I had been able to stick around for the afternoon and evening to drink some beer and to schmooze with the other athletes. Unfortunately, we had to get back to Laramie for an obligation.
I finished in 16th place overall. My time (28:29) was about a minute slower than I had hoped for. Given the conditions, however, today's race was more about effort than about time.
I think it could have made a substantial difference had I been able to run a couple 5000m to 5 mile races in the month prior to this race. (Nothing like racing to get me into racing shape.)
When my boys found out that next year's race is in San Diego they asked in unison, "Isn't there a zoo in San Diego we might visit, Dad?"