When I was a boy, I LOVED the Brooklyn Dodgers. I loved everything about them, like Ebbets Field, their little ball park, that they were the first major league team in the 20th Century to have a black player, that Pee Wee Reese was their captain and Duke Snider hit home runs onto Flatbush Avenue, that they had a pitcher (though not a very good one) that had a last name similar to mine, that Campy was their catcher...I just loved them and all their players.
And it certainly helped that 1955 is the first year that I can remember and that was the year that they won their first World Series.
For all that, though, I'm still not sure what caused me to casually comment to my dad that I'd really like to have Don Newcombe as my father.
Now I assume that I said that in 1956 when Newcombe was having an incredibly good year, but before the 7th game of that season's World Series when he pitched incredibly badly. I pretended to have a stomach ache so I could skip school and watch THAT??? Oh, well. Different story. But my point is, though I said I wanted it I'm not sure why I wished to be Newcombe's son.
Surely I hadn't thought through what it would mean to be multiracial or, for that matter, have to move from the Lower East Side which I loved to the Newcombe home in New Jersey. Nor was I thinking of the genetic value of having a 6' 6" father and what that would mean towards increasing my rather limited height and power hitting ability.
I do recall, though, seeing the Newcombe family once on TV and noticing that they had a ping pong table in their rec room. Now THAT made an impression on me, but I'm not sure if that's why I wanted him as my dad. Really, I can't think of why that struck me as such a good idea.
Of course, what also didn't strike me was how my father might feel about my statement. Actually I still don't know. He didn't react very strongly, as I recall, and seemed mildly amused and curious. And the issue never came up again as I don't think I really wanted to be Don Newcombe's son, and, of course, certainly not after that Game 7 disaster.
But what my father did feel strongly about was the St. Looie Cardinals. He loved them and he especially loved Stan Musial and, throughout his life, never tired of reciting Musial's great statistics, like how many triples he had in 1952 which, sadly, I can't recall. I thought my father was very odd about this. I could never understand a New Yorker not rooting for, indeed, loving, a New York team. Why did he love the Cardinals? I have no idea.
Still, it didn't matter that much because the Cardinals were not a big rival to the Dodgers during the years I cared about them. The Dodgers moved to Los Angeles in 1958 but it didn't really upset me. I continued rooting for them till they gave away the pennant to the Giants at the end of the 1962 season. I was crushed and my love for them was somehow fractured. Worse, there was now a new team in New York to pick up my affection...the NY Mets. I didn't want to become a Mets fan because they'd just lost 120 games in their first season. I knew the suffering that this would lead to. But, as you know, love is inexplicable.
The Cardinals had not been doing particularly well over these years and Musial had come to the end of his career. My father was losing or had lost interest in the team and told me that he'd become a Mets fan. He did it, I'm sure, mostly to support me, as, in addition to having to deal with becoming a teenager I also had to cope (and I didn't do it well) with 100+ loss seasons. But at least I didn't want to be related to any of the Mets players and my dad probably appreciated that.
Then the Mets got Duke Snider from the Dodgers. What a joy it was having the Duke of Flatbush back. I remember the newspapers talking about a great catch he made in his first Mets game, how much he was already helping the team, though they didn't mention that, despite this terrific help, the team lost that contest, 10 - 0, and promptly went on an 8 game losing streak.
And then the Cardinals came to town. And took a 2 run lead into the 9th. I remember my father and I watching that game in my parents' bedroom. Strongly had the feel of yet another Mets' loss. Until they got 2 runners on and The Duke was sent up to pinch hit. The Cardinal manager brought in a lefty. This late in his career, Snider rarely hit against lefties. I got up close to the screen and yelled encouragement. My usually talkative father was strangely quiet sitting behind me. Snider smashed a 3 run home run to win the game and I began screaming and hopping around. I turned to my father just in time to see him get up and leave the room...without a word! Now that was certainly unusual for him!
Turns out my father had not stopped being a Cardinals fan as much as he'd thought. And he was not delighted by my joyful celebration of that rare and dramatic Mets triumph over his team. Nor did he want to take away from my fun. And, of course, he'd never have been watching that game had it not been for me.
No doubt he was upset by it all. And that's how I hurt my father's feelings. I thought of all this today because, if he was watching Chris Carpenter's performance with me last night, he'd certainly be happy and not overly concerned about that 1963 upset.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
THE MILE RACE
I have a love/hate relationship with the Mile. I've done well the few times I've raced it, but never without pain. So much pain that, after little more than a quarter mile I've wanted to slow down significantly and make it go away. But I can't. I've run so well so far and there isn't that much farther to go. That's how the mile sucks you in. The end is always so near. I can do it I tell myself. And I can't slow now, not in such a short race, there's no margin for error and it'll ruin everything. And not in front of all these people who line the street for the entire length of the race. The hard core, New York Race Community, all screaming madly. That would be too embarassing. So I speed on despite how much it continues to hurt.
And so, as I lined up yesterday, I felt scared. I knew what the blocks from 8oth Street to 60th held in store.
The Fifth Avenue Mile is the shortest of the New York Roadrunner races and the only 1 run in seperate heats based on age groups. I was with the 60 to 69 year old men and women, a group totaling, probably, less than 150. There were surely more spectators waiting to cheer us on.
I tend to do better as the race distances shorten. As this was also a team race I especially wanted to do well, so I pushed up to as close to the starting line as possible. I got to the fourth row and looked for someone a bit faster than me to pace off of. As I had absolutely no idea who that could be, I stood there wondering how I could start off fast enough for a really good time but not so fast that I'd be in the pain that I feared.
No way to do that, of course.
The starter announced 1 minute till the gun. I edged into the third row. The gun went off. I jumped around 2 slower people and I was running. Locked on to someone ahead of me and went by him. Went by a few more feeling very strong. Just passed 75th Street, on the left, was the quarter mile clock. It was under 80 seconds as I approached...exciting! I hit it at 83, my fastest quarter in years.
But that first quarter mile is tricky. It's all downhill. Gives a misleadingly quick time. The second quarter has 3 blocks of an extremely tough hill. I passed 1 or 2 runners as I crested it. The half mile mark was just ahead and I crossed it at 3 minutes flat. A great time for me, giving me an excellent chance to beat last year's 6:12. But it also meant I'd need to be a tiny bit quicker to break the 6 minute mark.
And I felt awful. Exhausted and hurting. Wanting to slow but facing the conflict I knew I would. How could I throw away a 3 minute half mile when all I had to do was keep it up for a measly 3 more minutes?
The third quarter is gently downhill. I started counting the blocks. 69th, 68th, 67th, ok, I was more than half way done with it. No one had passed me. But I did let myself slow, almost unconsciously, for a bit. When I realized I'd done so (or maybe when the pain let up for a bit) I pushed the pace again. Not enough, though, as I hit 93...
...No chance now for a sub 6 minutes because the final quarter was flat. This depressed me for an instant; it seemed terribly unfair that I should be in this much pain and face a flat course. Now I was counting portions of blocks. Halfway to 64th Street, ok, now I've got it, half way to 63rd...when I heard a roar from the crowd. I was afraid I knew what it meant. A runner was coming up on me. He was kicking it home and the crowd was caught up in the competition. Sadly, however, I wasn't. I had no kick to answer back. I had all I could do to maintain pace. He went by me. But, happily, so did 63rd and 62nd Streets. 100 meters to go! Then that damn roar again. Someone else kicking by me. 61st Street. It's almost over. He goes passed and beats me by 1 second and I don't care. Someone else trying. This is too much. Maybe I do care. Maybe I can kick for 10 meters. I can. I cross 1 second before he does. It's over!
My official time is 6:07 which is really good. I'm 5 seconds better than last year, almost all of it because of my very fast first quarter. The extremely high humidity of 87% was likely a factor in slowing over the rest of the race. In better conditions I might have indeed bested 6 minutes.
But I did best all 3 of my Greater New York Racing Team teammates. I knew I'd beat 1 of them but the other 2 have generally raced faster than me. But not this time. I usually do better in the shorter races.
And so, as I lined up yesterday, I felt scared. I knew what the blocks from 8oth Street to 60th held in store.
The Fifth Avenue Mile is the shortest of the New York Roadrunner races and the only 1 run in seperate heats based on age groups. I was with the 60 to 69 year old men and women, a group totaling, probably, less than 150. There were surely more spectators waiting to cheer us on.
I tend to do better as the race distances shorten. As this was also a team race I especially wanted to do well, so I pushed up to as close to the starting line as possible. I got to the fourth row and looked for someone a bit faster than me to pace off of. As I had absolutely no idea who that could be, I stood there wondering how I could start off fast enough for a really good time but not so fast that I'd be in the pain that I feared.
No way to do that, of course.
The starter announced 1 minute till the gun. I edged into the third row. The gun went off. I jumped around 2 slower people and I was running. Locked on to someone ahead of me and went by him. Went by a few more feeling very strong. Just passed 75th Street, on the left, was the quarter mile clock. It was under 80 seconds as I approached...exciting! I hit it at 83, my fastest quarter in years.
But that first quarter mile is tricky. It's all downhill. Gives a misleadingly quick time. The second quarter has 3 blocks of an extremely tough hill. I passed 1 or 2 runners as I crested it. The half mile mark was just ahead and I crossed it at 3 minutes flat. A great time for me, giving me an excellent chance to beat last year's 6:12. But it also meant I'd need to be a tiny bit quicker to break the 6 minute mark.
And I felt awful. Exhausted and hurting. Wanting to slow but facing the conflict I knew I would. How could I throw away a 3 minute half mile when all I had to do was keep it up for a measly 3 more minutes?
The third quarter is gently downhill. I started counting the blocks. 69th, 68th, 67th, ok, I was more than half way done with it. No one had passed me. But I did let myself slow, almost unconsciously, for a bit. When I realized I'd done so (or maybe when the pain let up for a bit) I pushed the pace again. Not enough, though, as I hit 93...
...No chance now for a sub 6 minutes because the final quarter was flat. This depressed me for an instant; it seemed terribly unfair that I should be in this much pain and face a flat course. Now I was counting portions of blocks. Halfway to 64th Street, ok, now I've got it, half way to 63rd...when I heard a roar from the crowd. I was afraid I knew what it meant. A runner was coming up on me. He was kicking it home and the crowd was caught up in the competition. Sadly, however, I wasn't. I had no kick to answer back. I had all I could do to maintain pace. He went by me. But, happily, so did 63rd and 62nd Streets. 100 meters to go! Then that damn roar again. Someone else kicking by me. 61st Street. It's almost over. He goes passed and beats me by 1 second and I don't care. Someone else trying. This is too much. Maybe I do care. Maybe I can kick for 10 meters. I can. I cross 1 second before he does. It's over!
My official time is 6:07 which is really good. I'm 5 seconds better than last year, almost all of it because of my very fast first quarter. The extremely high humidity of 87% was likely a factor in slowing over the rest of the race. In better conditions I might have indeed bested 6 minutes.
But I did best all 3 of my Greater New York Racing Team teammates. I knew I'd beat 1 of them but the other 2 have generally raced faster than me. But not this time. I usually do better in the shorter races.
Monday, September 19, 2011
I'M NO DEACON BLUES
Now that I'm writing again I've looked over past blog entries. It seems I enjoy writing about hope and achievement and doing better than expected. About the opposites, not so much.
Last year I wrote on the eve of Grete's Great Gallup that I hoped to do better than my dismal performance 12 months before. I didn't. It was worse. But you'll not find anything about my 10 minute mile 11 here. Similarly, I'd written about high expectations before the Disney 2010 Marathon. Nothing, however, about running out of steam barely half way through and wondering how I was going to negotiate 12 miles with no energy. The answerby the way: Extremely slowly.
This Summer, I loved writing on facebook about both my softball teams' long winning streaks. "I've forgotten what it's like to lose," I commented in 1 entry. Not too much detail, however, about our awful playoff ousters..."Now I've forgotten what it's like to win a post season series" I did not write anywhere.
Dwelling on what's I haven't written brought up Deacon Blues. Steely Dan sang in that 1970s tune:
They've got a name for the winners in the world
well I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues*
I, however, do not want a name, Deacon Blues or otherwise, when I lose. I, apparently, want anonymity.
Grete's Half Marathon is coming up in 2 weeks and the Fifth Avenue Mile is this Saturday. I'm signed up for both. If you see nothing about the results here, assume I did not do well.
* The Demon Deacons were the nickname the awful football team of that decade at Wake Forest. I don't want to be called that, either.
Last year I wrote on the eve of Grete's Great Gallup that I hoped to do better than my dismal performance 12 months before. I didn't. It was worse. But you'll not find anything about my 10 minute mile 11 here. Similarly, I'd written about high expectations before the Disney 2010 Marathon. Nothing, however, about running out of steam barely half way through and wondering how I was going to negotiate 12 miles with no energy. The answerby the way: Extremely slowly.
This Summer, I loved writing on facebook about both my softball teams' long winning streaks. "I've forgotten what it's like to lose," I commented in 1 entry. Not too much detail, however, about our awful playoff ousters..."Now I've forgotten what it's like to win a post season series" I did not write anywhere.
Dwelling on what's I haven't written brought up Deacon Blues. Steely Dan sang in that 1970s tune:
They've got a name for the winners in the world
well I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues*
I, however, do not want a name, Deacon Blues or otherwise, when I lose. I, apparently, want anonymity.
Grete's Half Marathon is coming up in 2 weeks and the Fifth Avenue Mile is this Saturday. I'm signed up for both. If you see nothing about the results here, assume I did not do well.
* The Demon Deacons were the nickname the awful football team of that decade at Wake Forest. I don't want to be called that, either.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
RESPECTABLE RUNNING
For the last few years, with rare exceptions, my racing has been poor. That changed a few months ago...to horrendous. At the Brooklyn Half Marathon in May I ran my worst half marathon by far, walking at every water station in the second half. A month later it was my worst 5 miler by far, done at a pace that would barely qualify as a decent training run.
I was losing any joy in racing; even my incentive to run was fading. Each time out was exhausting and disturbingly slow. If this continued I would stop running. And I didn't know what was the matter.
And then I had a thought. This all began fairly soon after I'd begun taking a medication for a minor discomfort. It seemed to elevate my heart rate and that became more pronounced as the weather warmed. I stopped taking it. I found a different (and satisfactory) way of remedying the original issue. I went out running and found it becoming easier. So I was able to train better.
And then I ran a 4 mile race in July. It was my worst ever for the distance. But NOT by far. Only by a little. It wasn't that my heart was going to fast, just that I'd not trained adequately. It was the first time a Personal Worst felt like a step forward.
After that my training really improved. About 30 miles per week and lots of high quality speed work. A 5 mile race in August that was only AMONG my worst...further cause for optimism. And more hard training.
That brings us to today's 4 mile race. My training times, particularly in track workouts, made me think I could run fairly well. But given the strange running place I've been all summer, it was really difficult to guess how well. Certainy faster than the 8:16 per mile of July. How about the 7:47 of April or the 7:38 of exactly a year ago? Or the 7:40ish pace I'd run in a series of 4 milers at the start of 2010?
I decided to beat them all. I mean, what fun is it to try for anything less when there's doubt? So my goal was a 7:30 pace to finish the race in 30 minutes or less. The danger in trying to run a somewhat agressive pace, of course, is overestimating your stamina, going out faster than your body can support for the entire distance and ending unhappy, in pain, at a snail's pace, as everyone parades by you.
I figured mile 1, containing the tough Cat Hill, would foretell what the rest of the race held. When I did it in 7:29, exactly on pace and not feeling bad, it looked good. I speeded up to 7:17 on gently downhill mile 2 and slowed a lot to 7:47 on the difficult West Side Hills of mile 3.
Tired and very uncomfortable I tried to calculate where I stood. Did I have a shot at 7:30 pace? Two miles under it, 1 over. The numbers refused to compute. Just had no idea what was needed. So I figured I'd better run it as fast as I could.
Fortunately the last mile is largely downhill. So I ran confidently until the final 300 meters which is an unpleasant uphill. By then I had no energy left to push. People for the first time began passing me as they kicked home. I had nothing to answer with. And that's how I cruised over the finish line.
In 29:54, a pace of 7:28.5! Top ten age group (9 out of 60) honors! A performance score (don't ask how it's calculated) above 70% for the first time in over 3 years! And my best time at this distance since July, 2008!
At my best I've raced 4 miles in under 28 minutes. Long way to go to get to that. But at least this was some respectable running.
I was losing any joy in racing; even my incentive to run was fading. Each time out was exhausting and disturbingly slow. If this continued I would stop running. And I didn't know what was the matter.
And then I had a thought. This all began fairly soon after I'd begun taking a medication for a minor discomfort. It seemed to elevate my heart rate and that became more pronounced as the weather warmed. I stopped taking it. I found a different (and satisfactory) way of remedying the original issue. I went out running and found it becoming easier. So I was able to train better.
And then I ran a 4 mile race in July. It was my worst ever for the distance. But NOT by far. Only by a little. It wasn't that my heart was going to fast, just that I'd not trained adequately. It was the first time a Personal Worst felt like a step forward.
After that my training really improved. About 30 miles per week and lots of high quality speed work. A 5 mile race in August that was only AMONG my worst...further cause for optimism. And more hard training.
That brings us to today's 4 mile race. My training times, particularly in track workouts, made me think I could run fairly well. But given the strange running place I've been all summer, it was really difficult to guess how well. Certainy faster than the 8:16 per mile of July. How about the 7:47 of April or the 7:38 of exactly a year ago? Or the 7:40ish pace I'd run in a series of 4 milers at the start of 2010?
I decided to beat them all. I mean, what fun is it to try for anything less when there's doubt? So my goal was a 7:30 pace to finish the race in 30 minutes or less. The danger in trying to run a somewhat agressive pace, of course, is overestimating your stamina, going out faster than your body can support for the entire distance and ending unhappy, in pain, at a snail's pace, as everyone parades by you.
I figured mile 1, containing the tough Cat Hill, would foretell what the rest of the race held. When I did it in 7:29, exactly on pace and not feeling bad, it looked good. I speeded up to 7:17 on gently downhill mile 2 and slowed a lot to 7:47 on the difficult West Side Hills of mile 3.
Tired and very uncomfortable I tried to calculate where I stood. Did I have a shot at 7:30 pace? Two miles under it, 1 over. The numbers refused to compute. Just had no idea what was needed. So I figured I'd better run it as fast as I could.
Fortunately the last mile is largely downhill. So I ran confidently until the final 300 meters which is an unpleasant uphill. By then I had no energy left to push. People for the first time began passing me as they kicked home. I had nothing to answer with. And that's how I cruised over the finish line.
In 29:54, a pace of 7:28.5! Top ten age group (9 out of 60) honors! A performance score (don't ask how it's calculated) above 70% for the first time in over 3 years! And my best time at this distance since July, 2008!
At my best I've raced 4 miles in under 28 minutes. Long way to go to get to that. But at least this was some respectable running.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
THREE RACES
Road races coming up on each of the next 3 Saturdays. I'm excited. Because I think I can post some pretty good times.
Not my best times, of course. It's been 5 years since I've had a personal best. Injuries, illness, aging have all gotten in the way. And, of late, my times have been truly horrendous. Slow, slow, slow and beaten by all sorts of people including those I'd regularly bested in the past.
Early this summer was the absolute worst. I was so exhausted during a couple races that I walked. All I wanted was for it to end. My times weren't even good for training runs. It was awful...totally non competitive.
And then I figured out how to make it better. And I have. Consistent 30 or so miles a week for the past 10 weeks. Plenty of hard runs. No injuries...or at least none that stopped my running...and getting faster! Track workouts at a pace I've not done in 3 or 4 years.
Now it's time to put it to the test. Four mile race in Central Park this weekend. Fifth Avenue Mile the next. Grete's Half Marathon the week after that.
Three races. Very different distances. Sure would be nice to run them all in times I'm happy with.
Not my best times, of course. It's been 5 years since I've had a personal best. Injuries, illness, aging have all gotten in the way. And, of late, my times have been truly horrendous. Slow, slow, slow and beaten by all sorts of people including those I'd regularly bested in the past.
Early this summer was the absolute worst. I was so exhausted during a couple races that I walked. All I wanted was for it to end. My times weren't even good for training runs. It was awful...totally non competitive.
And then I figured out how to make it better. And I have. Consistent 30 or so miles a week for the past 10 weeks. Plenty of hard runs. No injuries...or at least none that stopped my running...and getting faster! Track workouts at a pace I've not done in 3 or 4 years.
Now it's time to put it to the test. Four mile race in Central Park this weekend. Fifth Avenue Mile the next. Grete's Half Marathon the week after that.
Three races. Very different distances. Sure would be nice to run them all in times I'm happy with.
Friday, October 1, 2010
CHALLENGING GRETE
Grete could not have been impressed the last time I ran her race. I grew slower on practically each mile, finally finishing the half marathon in a bit over 1 hour and 45 minutes, among my worst ever.
Grete's Great Gallup, the half marathon named in honor of Grete Weiss, the Norwegian Speed Queen, comes about 5 weeks before the New York Marathon and is used to asess marathon readiness and to provide an estimate of proper pace for the big race. I came to Grete in 2007 feeling optimistic. Good race times and solid long runs suggested that I might do very well; I ran a speedy first mile in exactly that spirit. And then the unusual warmth and humidity of that early Autumn day...and who knows what else...grabbed hold of me. The race became a long playing disapointment, leaving me on a downward spiral that culminated in a marathon nightmare of pain and injury and walking off the course when it all became too much on First Avenue around mile 17.
Injuries kept me from the starting line for either the 2008 or 2009 Marathons. This year my half marathon times continue to balloon. Grete is tomorrow. How optimistic can I be?
Well, training has been good of late, I've gotten stronger with a bunch of solid long runs, last weekend's mile race was terrific, I just ate a very nice pasta from a newly opened local restaurant and tomorrow's weather report doesn't call for a lot of heat or humidity.
So, who knows? Maybe this time, Grete will be impressed.
Grete's Great Gallup, the half marathon named in honor of Grete Weiss, the Norwegian Speed Queen, comes about 5 weeks before the New York Marathon and is used to asess marathon readiness and to provide an estimate of proper pace for the big race. I came to Grete in 2007 feeling optimistic. Good race times and solid long runs suggested that I might do very well; I ran a speedy first mile in exactly that spirit. And then the unusual warmth and humidity of that early Autumn day...and who knows what else...grabbed hold of me. The race became a long playing disapointment, leaving me on a downward spiral that culminated in a marathon nightmare of pain and injury and walking off the course when it all became too much on First Avenue around mile 17.
Injuries kept me from the starting line for either the 2008 or 2009 Marathons. This year my half marathon times continue to balloon. Grete is tomorrow. How optimistic can I be?
Well, training has been good of late, I've gotten stronger with a bunch of solid long runs, last weekend's mile race was terrific, I just ate a very nice pasta from a newly opened local restaurant and tomorrow's weather report doesn't call for a lot of heat or humidity.
So, who knows? Maybe this time, Grete will be impressed.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
RACING FIFTH AVENUE
This is my first blog entry in almost 2 years. All sorts of bad things have kept me from writing because they've kept me from being athletic. Oh, I've tried being athletic. And I have done things. They just haven't felt like the kinds of things that I do. At least, not the quality. Not the speed. Not the effectiveness. Not the happy outcomes.
There were times that I thought I was on my way. And then something bad would happen. Maybe to my calf. Maybe to my achilles. Maybe to my hamstring. Maybe to body parts I'd never previously heard of. But something. And so, it would turn out, I wasn't on my way.
And then the Fifth Avenue Mile approached. I've only run it twice before, it's very exciting and challenging and I knew this year would not be my third. Too much chance of injury. Too painful. Too much a sure thing that I wouldn't do it very well. Because for a long time I haven't been able to run fast.
A few weeks ago strange things began to happen. I'd run an easy workout, modest pace, but my heart rate wouldn't jump up like it had been doing. It stayed nice and low like it used to, back in those days when I was running well. Then I ran a nice, easy workout and miles were suddenly going by more quickly. Had the course shortened? I wasn't running any harder.
And then one day during a speed workout something happened which hadn't happened in a long time...I actually DID run fast! And then, 2 days later, it occurred again, and, the following week, twice more!
So, I decided to race the Fifth Avenue Mile.
I did it in 2003 when I ran 5:56 and 2007 when I hit 5:49. Both times were wonderful...anything under 6 minutes is. But I knew I had no shot at such a performance this time. My workouts suggested that it would be good if I could break 6:30. The fragility of my body the last few years suggested that, if I tried, I'd tear something new. But I wanted to try.
When I tell people I'm going to race the mile, many say: "Oh, that's no problem. It's just a mile. You've run much longer than that." What they don't understand is the intensity of running "just" a mile. Of course I can run a mile. But now I'm going to be RACING it, and that means doing it as fast as I possibly can.
And there's no way to go as fast as you can without it really, really hurting. How much it hurts and when that starts depends on your speed at the beginning.
The Fifth Avenue course is slightly downhill for the first quarter mile. This sucks you in to running too fast to begin with. The next quarter is mostly uphill. Not a big uphill, but big enough to make it really hurt if you deprived yourself of oxygen by running the "fast" first quarter too fast. And if you do, when you get to the top of the hill at 70th Street, it's all pain to 60th Street and the finish line.
So I decided to pace myself. The head of my racing team is Bob Glover. He's a world renowned running writer and ferocious competitor who's a few years older than me. Injuries and age have slowed him a bit and enabled me, when healthy,to beat him occasionally. So he's intent now on beating me (and many others) to even the score. Including in the Fifth Avenue Mile.
I know some of Bob's recent training times. They're better than mine. He should beat me. So I decided to use that to pace myself. I'd stick with him on the first easy quarter and then up the hill to the halfway point. This would be faster than I can maintain so I'll forget about Bob then. The rest of the course is downhill so I'll just hold on for dear life and let gravity do its work.
At the starting line, I began worrying about reinjuring myself. I'd not run anything in 2 years quicker than 6:55. It was crazy getting ready to try to go way faster than that. My heart would be pumping wildly if I ran that intensely. Could it burst thru my chest and make me die? And, if it didn't, wouldn't my calf or achilles be likely to blow instead? Yet I also wondered if maybe I could not only break 6:30 but perhaps 6:15? And not blow up my heart or pull a muscle? Bob was 1 row ahead of me and just to my right.
We were off. It was a little crowded at the start and I moved laterally to find open ground. Bob ran straight ahead and separated from me. Was he running too fast for me to catch without putting myself in oxygen deprivation way early? I pushed my pace and caught up to him. About 200 meters in I had an interesting thought: This is too slow! I picked up the pace and hit the quarter mile mark in 1:27. I hadn't run this fast in a long time.
The hill began and I noticed 2 things. I was well ahead of Bob and all moisture had left my throat. I was TOTALLY dry. Nothing to swallow. Weird and very uncomfortable. I pushed up the hill, definitely slowing but no one was passing me. I did the second quarter in 1:36.5...3:03 for the half. I knew I was okay. Even if I slowed badly I'd still easily break 6:30.
If I could keep going, of course. It really hurt. It was very uncomfortable. But nothing seemed likely to burst.So I did keep going. Not fast, not slow. 1:32 for quarter 3 and 1:36 to the finish. There was a large group in front of me that I couldn't catch but no one passed me...I think...during the last half of the race.
I crossed in 6:12. Far better than my 6:30 goal and under the 6:15 that I didn't really think was possible. Twelfth in my age group of 53. My heart remains inside my chest and, apparently, working fine. So are the muscles in my legs. And I'll be ready to train hard again on Tuesday. With enthusiasm. Cause this race feels very much like the kind of thing that I do!
And now I've got 6:00 to beat...again!
There were times that I thought I was on my way. And then something bad would happen. Maybe to my calf. Maybe to my achilles. Maybe to my hamstring. Maybe to body parts I'd never previously heard of. But something. And so, it would turn out, I wasn't on my way.
And then the Fifth Avenue Mile approached. I've only run it twice before, it's very exciting and challenging and I knew this year would not be my third. Too much chance of injury. Too painful. Too much a sure thing that I wouldn't do it very well. Because for a long time I haven't been able to run fast.
A few weeks ago strange things began to happen. I'd run an easy workout, modest pace, but my heart rate wouldn't jump up like it had been doing. It stayed nice and low like it used to, back in those days when I was running well. Then I ran a nice, easy workout and miles were suddenly going by more quickly. Had the course shortened? I wasn't running any harder.
And then one day during a speed workout something happened which hadn't happened in a long time...I actually DID run fast! And then, 2 days later, it occurred again, and, the following week, twice more!
So, I decided to race the Fifth Avenue Mile.
I did it in 2003 when I ran 5:56 and 2007 when I hit 5:49. Both times were wonderful...anything under 6 minutes is. But I knew I had no shot at such a performance this time. My workouts suggested that it would be good if I could break 6:30. The fragility of my body the last few years suggested that, if I tried, I'd tear something new. But I wanted to try.
When I tell people I'm going to race the mile, many say: "Oh, that's no problem. It's just a mile. You've run much longer than that." What they don't understand is the intensity of running "just" a mile. Of course I can run a mile. But now I'm going to be RACING it, and that means doing it as fast as I possibly can.
And there's no way to go as fast as you can without it really, really hurting. How much it hurts and when that starts depends on your speed at the beginning.
The Fifth Avenue course is slightly downhill for the first quarter mile. This sucks you in to running too fast to begin with. The next quarter is mostly uphill. Not a big uphill, but big enough to make it really hurt if you deprived yourself of oxygen by running the "fast" first quarter too fast. And if you do, when you get to the top of the hill at 70th Street, it's all pain to 60th Street and the finish line.
So I decided to pace myself. The head of my racing team is Bob Glover. He's a world renowned running writer and ferocious competitor who's a few years older than me. Injuries and age have slowed him a bit and enabled me, when healthy,to beat him occasionally. So he's intent now on beating me (and many others) to even the score. Including in the Fifth Avenue Mile.
I know some of Bob's recent training times. They're better than mine. He should beat me. So I decided to use that to pace myself. I'd stick with him on the first easy quarter and then up the hill to the halfway point. This would be faster than I can maintain so I'll forget about Bob then. The rest of the course is downhill so I'll just hold on for dear life and let gravity do its work.
At the starting line, I began worrying about reinjuring myself. I'd not run anything in 2 years quicker than 6:55. It was crazy getting ready to try to go way faster than that. My heart would be pumping wildly if I ran that intensely. Could it burst thru my chest and make me die? And, if it didn't, wouldn't my calf or achilles be likely to blow instead? Yet I also wondered if maybe I could not only break 6:30 but perhaps 6:15? And not blow up my heart or pull a muscle? Bob was 1 row ahead of me and just to my right.
We were off. It was a little crowded at the start and I moved laterally to find open ground. Bob ran straight ahead and separated from me. Was he running too fast for me to catch without putting myself in oxygen deprivation way early? I pushed my pace and caught up to him. About 200 meters in I had an interesting thought: This is too slow! I picked up the pace and hit the quarter mile mark in 1:27. I hadn't run this fast in a long time.
The hill began and I noticed 2 things. I was well ahead of Bob and all moisture had left my throat. I was TOTALLY dry. Nothing to swallow. Weird and very uncomfortable. I pushed up the hill, definitely slowing but no one was passing me. I did the second quarter in 1:36.5...3:03 for the half. I knew I was okay. Even if I slowed badly I'd still easily break 6:30.
If I could keep going, of course. It really hurt. It was very uncomfortable. But nothing seemed likely to burst.So I did keep going. Not fast, not slow. 1:32 for quarter 3 and 1:36 to the finish. There was a large group in front of me that I couldn't catch but no one passed me...I think...during the last half of the race.
I crossed in 6:12. Far better than my 6:30 goal and under the 6:15 that I didn't really think was possible. Twelfth in my age group of 53. My heart remains inside my chest and, apparently, working fine. So are the muscles in my legs. And I'll be ready to train hard again on Tuesday. With enthusiasm. Cause this race feels very much like the kind of thing that I do!
And now I've got 6:00 to beat...again!
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