Race report: Run for the "L" of It 5k

This post is subtitled, "The Little Engine That Couldn't."

Summer has come to the Ohio Valley, which meant at race time Saturday it was in the mid-70s with humidity pushing 80%. Lovely.

The women's line-up for this race was stacked -- probably one of the most competitive races in the city. I knew that was coming, so I was mostly racing the clock since I knew some of these girls would be a minute ahead of me ... at least. If there were any other women closer to me, I'd race them, but those other girls ... Not even. In the end, U of L runner Emily Borsare would win in 17:10, followed by Amy Doolittle-Crider, Kim Coleman and Meghan Braffet, all right around 18 minutes. Yikes!

I went into this race hoping to run around 19 minutes like I did last year, but thinking 19:15 was more realistic considering how I felt during Thursday's workout. (I can only post about one thing at a time, so I will get the week in review up soon.) Apparently even that was a little too optimistic.

I hit the first mile marker in 6:06, even though Cassidy (my 405) pinged a few feet later at 6:15 pace. Sometimes I hate that damn thing, I think I'm going to start setting it up for races so that it works like an old school watch - no auto-lap, no pace. Just chrono and I will force-lap at the mile markers.

The course is a pretty cool configuration, sort of a backwards C-shape with a little loop at the top. So people watching at the start/finish line can also see you around halfway, and there's no sharp turnaround like in an out-and-back.

My coach was at the little loop, and I yelled to him that my jacked-up right leg was hurting. He told me to relax up top and keep going. I was hoping he was going to tell me to drop out. Drats. Okay, legs, keep going. Cassidy split 6:29 for the second mile, yikes. Couple more turns and then we are back at Eighth and Main, which means I just have to get to Fourth and Main, pop up a couple blocks, then it's over. It's so humid the sweat is beading up on my skin -- no evaporation at all. Gross.

I spend from about 1.5 miles to 2.5 miles running next to my friend Rob, a pal from Track Tuesday. I start putting some ground on him as we turn onto Main, catch a couple of other men, turn onto Fourth and blast the jets. This is always a bad idea because the Fourth Street part is longer than I'd like (about .3). Catch two more guys, commit to the I'm-going-to-hurl feeling. Because once you "chick" some poor dude, you can't let them pass you back. Just can't.

Cassidy is stupid and only got 3.05 for the race, which is an acceptable figure considering the width of the course, but means its calculation for pace over the .1 is no good. It figures something like 7:20 for that part, but I was definitely working harder than that coming up Fourth Street. Oh well.

Crossed the line in 19:30, good for fifth female and an AG win. Thank goodness my friend Meghan doesn't turn 25 till next month, so she won the AG below mine.

More races coming up, more race practice, less whining. That's the plan.

Oh, and kudos to my mom and friends Melanie, Debra and Jeff on this race, too! Mom improved over her 5k a couple of weeks ago, Jeff ran in the 18:20s after not running a 5k in forever, and Debra picked up an AG award!

Race report: Cades Cove Loop Lope

One day I will post race reports in a timely manner. This is not that day. I ran a race on April 25 ... and now I'm writing the report.

There is some backstory to this particular adventure. A few weeks after my marathon and a few weeks before this race — it being about a month after the marathon — my coach informed me we were running a 10 miler in the Smoky Mountains.

Please note the use of "race," "10 miler" and "mountains." Ughhhhh.

However, there was no way I could pass up this opportunity. The hugely popular Cades Cove scenic loop had closed down for part of the off-season for much-needed repaving. Tourists throng Cades Cove for chances to see deer, turkeys and the occasional bear. A race with bears!?!?! Of course I'm in.

The race — the Cades Cove Loop Lope — was being billed as a once-in-a-lifetime affair. It had never been done before and they don't plan to do it again, it only became possible because the repaving was done a month before the loop was set to reopen. The race's slogan was "It's now or never."

Derby City Athletic Club, the team for whom I run (in addition, of course, to nominally running for New Balance), holds its youth camp each summer in the Smokies and regularly runs the Cades Cove loop. On a spring break trip down there, he found out about the race.

Now, as if the set-up for this race wasn't sounding quite strange enough, registration was a whole 'nother matter. It was a one-day online-only affair, and because of parking limitations, registration was done by "teams."

Parking could only accommodate 140 vehicles, so each "team" would receive one parking pass. You could have as many as eight people on your team, but you were only coming in one vehicle. Even with the fairly steep price of $60 per person (for either the 10 mile or 5k option), registration closed within hours.

Coach had mentioned to me that we were doing this race, but I didn't pay a whole lot of attention ... until registration confirmation appeared in my inbox. Turned out I was being offered race entry, overnight accommodations and carpooling ... all I had to do was pay for my meals and attempt to run fast. Plus it was a Sunday race, so I didn't have to take off work.

Even with my semi-functional post-marathon legs, there was no way I was saying no. Derby City had signed up five people, so it ended up being my coach (Dave), my friend (Mat) and two eighth-grade Derby City standouts (Max and Chris). The younger boys would run the 5k — farther than what they typically race, and the second-ever 5k for both — while us older folks would tackle the 10 miler.

We headed down when Mat and I were finished at Ken Combs Running Store, piled into Dave's SUV and headed out. There was a stop for Fazolli's along the way, making me now a convert to the Fazolli's-before-racing gang. It must be the crack in the breadsticks.

I will admit being in a car with four guys, including two teenage ones, wasn't nearly as bad as I might have feared. The younger ones were absolutely hysterical, sometimes unknowingly but usually just because they're funny.

Our cabin was about 20 minutes from the race, and one of the ones Derby City uses for camp. Dave took the upstairs bedroom, Mat and I took the downstairs one and the boys got the couches. Of course, one boy stayed up till 2 a.m. texting and fell asleep on the pool table ... but boys will be boys.

We rolled out of the cabin at 7 a.m., all awesomely attired in navy shorts and orange Derby City singlets. Fake it till you make it, right?

Parking was really well orchestrated; the park rangers wanted us in the right places so they were making sure we got there. Ample bathrooms, fairly easy check-in ... The only headache while checking in was that the other runners were flat out not listening to the directions. Goodies came in a small reusable shopping bag, pretty much lunchbox sized, with the super-cool race logo printed on it. Shirts were of course oversized, but a cool shade of green with the logo in brown. Perfect for a scenic national park race.

While warming up we were talking about racing, and somehow it came up I had never won a race before. A few second-place finishes for sure, plenty of top-tens and age group prizes ... But no overall top female. The guys all had their share of wins from one time or another, probably aided by running through middle and high school, or having run for the past 25 years or so.

And believe me, a ridiculously hilly 10 miler a month post-marathon was not being considered for a win. I hadn't run more than 40 miles a week since the marathon, mostly easy mile — and I had done two hill workouts the week leading up to Cades Cove.

Coach told me going into the race that whatever I thought I could run a flat 10 miler in, add 20 seconds a mile to my pace. That's how tough the course is. I figured 75 was a good goal for the day, which would pretty much let me run my normal pace on a harder course.

Our little team did some pre-race striders, and I hope we looked intimidating because I sure felt like a stud. Now I just had to run decently and not embarrass myself.

I had been strongly advised to go out slow; the first half of the race is considerably easier than the second. So the three of us hit the first mile in 7:05, which was definitely not the plan. But it was downhill, so who can blame us. Then we get our first hill, which doesn't seem too bad. Then things get silly. From miles 2-4 there are about seven hills. Yes, seven. About four of them are 200-foot climbs, the others less than 100. But with that many of them, even the little ones are doozies since you're not getting much recovery.

Dave had backed off after our overzealous first mile; Mat stops to stretch at mile 2. I slow down a tad, since I needed to anyway, and hope Mat will catch back up. He surfaces around mile 4, and promptly drops me at mile 6. Note bene that he had adamantly stated he couldn't even run 10 miles right now, and certainly not fast. It must be nice to be young and naturally talented.

There were no girls in front of me at the start, not many in the field who looked like speedsters, and none had passed me yet. When Mat is back with me at mile 4, he reports there is a girl not too far back — not on my tail yet, but close enough for having a 10k left. By the time Mat pulls away from me, she's not in sight anymore.

There's a bit of a drop from miles 4-6, a couple of steep hills but with some downhill to counter it. But from miles 6-10, the total elevation gain is well over 400 feet. Up a bunch, down a little, repeat.

I believe I uttered the phrase, "I hate you, Dave," multiple times.

Then .... the boys show up. Having dominated the 5k, taking second and third with times right at 18:20 (probably worth at least 17:45 on a flat course), they ran backwards from the finish line to find the rest of us.

Mat is cruising at that point, tells the boys to come keep me company. They catch me at mile 8, where I have climbed my butt off over a nasty hill section. But they are running easy and talking to me, which makes my effort seem easier. I'm still in the lead, and remembering that I just told these boys I had never won. I was determined not to give up the victory at that point, although I had no idea where the next female would be.

At a late water stop, Max calls to the volunteers that they're cheering for the winning female. I roll my eyes and tell them to cut it out, to not embarrass me. The boys push me to a 6:50 last mile (fastest of the race), dropping off before the finish mat.

I clock 1:14:34, just under my goal time, picking up my first female overall win — and setting a course record that may never be broken. Haha! The next two girls were three and four minutes behind me, respectively. I was 17th overall.

Mat finishes in 1:11, 12th overall and second in his AG. Dave was 24th overall in 1:18, fifth in his AG — but would have been second one age group younger and first one age group older, so he pretty much got screwed.

Awards are awesome; I get a locally designed and produced stoneware bear statue. And a 50-minute massage and running store gift card, both which I hope to use while at Derby City's camp this summer.

There's a bluegrass band playing while they figure out awards; we get soft-serve ice cream from the souvenir shop. The ice cream reminds me I really have to bring warmups to races regardless of the weather, because soon after I'm freezing. But I'm proud to score my first win while wearing my DCAC jersey, so I don't really want to cover it up, either.

We head into Gatlinburg for pancakes before heading home, stopping to buy Talledaga Nights along the way.

All-in-all a great trip — in a way it is sad they won't have the race next year ... but I want to have the course record as long as I can!

Race Report: Club Cross Nationals

Every year the USATF puts on club cross country nationals, one of two championship XC races for the post-collegiate crowd. This one allows for team competition and doesn't give prize money to individuals, just teams. So the atmosphere is more like a traditional XC race -- instead of a road race being held on a cross country course. (Which is more like the other championship.)

Professional groups like ZAP Fitness, McMillan Elite, Boulder Running Company, Asics Aggies, Bowerman and others all show up. And some local teams like ours, who are just regular runners of the don't-quit-your-day-job variety.

Anyway, there were four races for the day, masters and open for both men and women. The women ran a 6k and the men 10k, on pretty much the same course at Masterson Station Park in Lexington. The day started off cold, and we had all packed lots of spandex to cram under our tiny little uniforms. Well, under the tops, because our spandex boy shorts were not going to permit layering. It was going to be one or the other, and most of us opted for shorts. Our race wasn't until 12:45 p.m., which was amazing -- we lolled around all morning taking our time getting ready. We probably should have arrived earlier, but we didn't want to stand in the cold all day. Consequently, we spent too much time organizing our gear and finding our teammates. I was also supposed to be coordinating a men's team, but only one of them showed up. Plus I threw my phone at a friend, told him to answer if anyone called, and went to warm up.

We arrived at the starting box late, still in warmups and with two girls not yet wearing their spikes. We chucked all our stuff in a pile behind the line, hoped our friends would grab it all, and lined up with the other 230-odd women in the middle of a big field. The gun went off and I, for once, didn't go out way way too fast. Just a little too fast.

My goal for the race was 24 minutes, since I ran just over 20 minutes in my first cross race, a 5k, a few weeks ago. I thought if I could maintain the same pace for an extra KM on a harder course, I'd consider it a good day. So I set my watch to tell me pace and distance in KMs, however, I didn't reset the auto-lap feature to metric. So the screen was giving me metric but it was auto-lapping every mile. Sonuvagun. The watch was pretty much useless.

The course starts with a pretty long gradual uphill; at least the first half-mile. Then it funnels into a rocky patch and down a little hill, then a tight U-turn, back up the hill, down the hill, up a short/steep/really muddy hill, back down to the start, then repeat.

The hills were all pretty sloppy, especially the steep one. I opted to wear flats instead of spikes because most of the ground was hard and the spikes hurt my lower legs last time. I think it was a good decision; the little bit of traction I lost on that uphill was probably regained by the fact my legs didn't feel absolutely terrible at mile three.

By the way, who thought up this 6k business? Thank you for the hassle.

Around the first mile, I set about sticking with the girls in my vicinity. I figured with three more miles to go, I should first try to maintain position and not get passed, then try to move ahead positions later in the race and when possible. I picked up a few on the uphills, using those to pull ahead then getting a larger lead on the downhill. A handful of friends were on the course cheering, which was great. I don't run many races where people know my name, and when I do, they're usually at one or two spots during a three-hour race. Hearing my name like 10 times in a 24-minute race was like being famous!

Nearing the second-mile marker, the girls coming into the U-turn and the girls going out of it are all pretty close to each other. At that point I was thinking about the race being half over -- in the pessimistic way -- when Tera Moody cruised past. That was cool. I probably ran a better third mile because of that. I thought to myself, "Okay, this hurts, but oh-my-god I'm running in a race with Tera Moody -- and she's not that far ahead of me!"

The finish goes in an almost-complete rectangle, so I caught a couple of girls and we came down the first short side. Several friends were yelling at me to pick it up and catch some more girls, but coming up the first long side, I didn't think I could. I wasn't sure I could take another step, really. But I made myself stay on one girl's shoulder through the second short side. Then when I rounded the turn for the last long side, looking at the finish line, those damn friends were there yelling again. So, another sonuvagun moment as I sucked it up and blasted (well, it felt like it at least) the last hundred meters to the finish.

I pulled off a 24:28, just about seven seconds per mile short of my goal. Considering the climbs (Cassidy the Garmin figured 600 feet of climb) and the mud, I'm happy. It averaged out to 6:34/mile versus 6:30/mile for the 5k XC.

It was really neat to be part of a team like that, and I really enjoyed the race overall. We stayed and watched the men's race, which was amazing -- 29:18 won the 10k ... in the same mud and up the same hills.

Later that evening, after the official awards ceremony, a lot of the teams hit the Lexington bar scene. We got to hang out with some really awesome people, including the ZAP Fitness team and their guy who ran that aforementioned 29:18.

That's all for now. Maybe more on how humbling this race was ... because notice I am not talking about my finish place in this post at all.

Derby City AAU Meet - race report

Okay, so I should have written this a week ago. I have no valid excuse.

Last Sunday I made my cross-country debut at the past-my-xc-prime age of 24. See, USATF club cross country nationals are down the road in Lexington next month, so it didn't take much arm-twisting to get me to participate. In fact, I got an awesome Derby City Athletic Club uniform and that was really all I needed.

The DCAC hosted the AAU regional meet on Sunday, and allowed three of us running club cross to use it as a "practice" race to tune-up. And I need a lot of tuning. More like an engine rebuild, but hey, gotta work with what I got. I really needed an opportunity to race in grass (I've done trail races, but that's not the same either), wear my spikes and figure how out of shape I was.

On the good side, I like wearing spikes even though my lower leg has been a little sore ever since. I also was correct in my early prediction of how I'd do, so at least I'm fairly in tune with what the legs are willing to do.

There's not really a bad side to this race, other than me not running 18 flat ... But that's a bad side to any 5k I've ever done -- or probably will ever run.

The course was two loops, featuring a couple of little hills and one bigger one. Steep but not long, so a fairly good course.

The other two girls and I had planned to just run this race as a tempo run, which would be 6:45 pace on the roads for us. Of course, by the time we were on the line, I was saying 6:30 pace. I think they knew where this was going. The gun went off, and the 16 assorted guys and gals -- high schoolers with four exceptions -- took off in a pack. For the first 100 yards or so, I kept saying out loud, "not 5:30 pace, not 5:30 pace." As we rounded the first turn, I went, "Damn, 5:30 pace." I started to back off, trying to settle in.

I clipped through the first mile in 6:20 but knew it wasn't going to last. My friend/semi-coach was at the marker, which seemed like a good time for me to remind him I hate 5ks. To which he replied, "Well, you're running halfway decent so just keep your head in it and relax."

Relax I did, and a little too much. I ran 6:48 for the second mile, along the way having some elementary-aged boys yell, "Go Ken Combs lady!" which I loved. There weren't any other runners close by, probably part of why I slacked so much.

But then ... I could hear one of the girls on my team and that I run with often. Former DIII all-American, this one, and I could recognize her breathing. That meant there was no slowing down and that I probably needed to pick up a bit. Now, generally this girl could slaughter me in a 5k, but she's been putting in 15 miles a week or so during her first semester of dental school. It was a little disheartening to have her damn near catch me anyway. A good reminder why I need to stick with longer distances nonetheless.

After a 6:44 third mile, I ran the last smidge at 5:22 pace and called it a day. I finished second female to a high schooler who had just placed sixth at the state meet the previous day. Fair enough. I'm recovering from a marathon and she's peaking; I'll settle for the 27-second loss.

I ran 20:13, with which I'm okay. It was fun. Now it's time to get my rear into gear for the next one.

Marshall University Marathon Race Report

Mixed feelings about this race still. I should be elated with a four-minute PR and a second-place finish, but I'm somewhat disappointed that I didn't run faster. I went into this race thinking I was in 3:05 shape, and ran out of gas at about 16 miles. Apparently the 250 calories I had for breakfast were insufficient. Then again, if the biggest obstacle I need to tackle in my training right now is to eat more ... I can probably handle that.

More specifics on the race: MUM is a tiny, tiny race. About 350 people in each the full and the half. The perks of the race make it sound pretty good, which is why we went -- a full-zip fleece instead of a t-shirt, dinner the night before, lunch after the race, and a low $60 entry fee. Oh, and a copy of the "We are Marshall" DVD.

And the course is pancake flat. That aspect, at least, lived up to its name.

But, for only having a handful of entrants, it was one of the dumbest packet pickups I've ever seen. First you have to find the right building, then figure out where the hell the door to it is. Then you walk to the table and the volunteers stop talking to each other just long enough to tell you to walk across the lobby and look up your bib number and come back. Now, with 350 people in each race and a separate table for each, I kind of expect them to do that for me. Alphabetize the list by last name, give to volunteers, done. They don't offer us bags for the bibs, pins and stupid ankle chips we need ... but they do give us a poorly copied black-and-white course map from 2007 with the changes scribbled out and rewritten in pencil. Doh! The course loops back on itself in several places, so there's no way you can figure out where you're going on this map. If I can find my copy, I will post it.

Hoping with a small race I could score an appropriate-sized top, I emailed the race director over the summer -- before they ordered shirts -- asking for an XS. He said he would try to get one and to ask at check-in. I did. They had no idea what I was talking about. Even the race director looked at me blankly. I took the small, which would somehow later get mixed up with a medium and is now utterly worthless as an article of clothing for a 105-pound, 5'3" girl.

Still sans bags, we drag all this stuff to the car and head to Applebees for lunch. Not the best choice, but Huntington isn't that big and it seemed a safe option.

We check into our hotel, which is pretty nice even though the pool turned out to be closed. Alas. We probably wouldn't have gotten in it anyway. We lounge around, put in a four-mile run, head to the pre-race dinner (for free!) slightly sweaty, eat some pasta.

Here's where my nutrition starts to go awry. I don't like tomato sauce. Tomatoes make me sick. But the spaghetti doesn't look particularly good plain, so I have them put on a little bit. It doesn't help. I pick at dinner, and there's little chance I ate enough.

Back at the hotel, we reset the clocks since it's daylight savings weekend. We watch a couple of hours of the "I didn't know I was pregnant" marathon and go to sleep. I have the alarm set for 5 a.m. because I'm neurotic, pretty much, and wanted to get up early enough to know I hadn't somehow bungled the time change.

I have my meager breakfast around 5:30, have a cup of coffee, put on race gear and warmups, head to the start line. We listen to bad rap songs loudly in the car, I dance around the parking lot, etc. In a sports bra and arm warmers, a guy says, "It's time to get serious, huh?" I say, well, obviously.

I get stuck in a bathroom stall. Scratch my back coming out under the door.

Minimum of interesting stuff going on at starting line. There was an official prayer, but during that I prayed to the running gods by doing some striders. The gun went off and in the opening quarter mile I found out the girl ahead of me was planning to break 3 hours. So we let her go.

I had planned to pick up the pace at the 10k, half and 20 mile points, so I'll give you splits accordingly.

Miles 1-6: 6:56, 7:06, 7:10, 7:09, 7:10, 7:10. (Goal pace 7:10)

Not much going on to see, little bit on the riverwalk but only a half a mile or so. Mostly residential and no crowd support. Lots of police and ROTC out blocking traffic though. A couple of other guys start running with us. It feels nice and easy so far, which surprises me a little.

Miles 7-13: 7:11, 7:08, 7:07, 7:07, 7:09, 7:08, 7:08. (Goal pace 7:08)

We looped through a small park for a couple miles in here, like 9-11. The park would have been more interesting if the gravel path hadn't been covered in leaves, making it impossible to see where you were going. We did get to see some other runners as we came back out of the park. We drop the other two guys, so it's just me and Matt and the roads are getting extra lonely. There's no crowd support and I'm not sure the water stops were at regular intervals ... if they were, I couldn't figure out the pattern.

Miles 14-20: 7:09, 7:10, 7:16, 7:23, 7:24, 7:28, 7:33. (Goal pace 7:05)

CRASH!!!! I ran outta gas. You can see it happen. At 15 I told Matt to go, because I didn't want to slow him down. If I had tried to stay with him I might have stayed under 7:20 for a little while longer but maybe not. Nothing hurt, just pooped out. No juice. Around mile 15 we were running on a four-lane almost-highway, with just our lane blocked off, and the road was heavily cambered. There was no shade, no other runners, no crowd ... Barf. The only thing worth note was the Jolly Pirate Donuts store. And at that point I was pretty sure I was delirious anyway.

Miles 21-26: 7:33, 7:30, 7:49, 7:43, 7:33, 7:40, 7:20. (Goal pace 7:00)

Yikes! I was just trying to trudge home at this point. With no clocks on the race course, I actually had no idea what my time might be at the end. I had set my Garmin up to just tell me distance, current pace and lap average pace; at this point I didn't even want to know how it was going. I figured I had gone out well enough through the first 15 to still PR, but that was about all I knew and I wasn't even sure about that. But I figured if I wasn't going to PR, I didn't want to know.

Around 22 we hit the park again, going the opposite direction. On my way out of the park, going around a tight U-turn, I saw the next female runner pretty close to me. That's when the pace starts to pick back up. I remember thinking, "Damn, I have to hold her off for four miles!"

The last mile or so goes through the Marshall University campus, which I'm sure is neat for recreational runners but was kind of a pain to navigate. You had to follow arrow markers along the entire path, which veered around various plantings and statues. Sigh. Then back on to the street and down a couple blocks -- on the sidewalk, which wasn't blocked off at all and I almost trampled a few departing half-marathoners and their families. Whoops.

Into the Marshall University football stadium, where you have to run down the long side ... and then make a sharp left at the goalposts, which is much easier to do if the teenagers standing there handing out footballs would have told me to do so. I end up missing the turn (why it wasn't blocked off I have no idea) and ducking back under the caution tape.

Ta-da, a fifth marathon finish.

Matt, who ran the first 15 with me, ran 3:05 as his debut. His wife and my great friend, Diane, PR'd by 10 minutes, running a 3:28. They won their age groups!

We drank a bottle of champagne in the parking lot, showered in the rec center, checked out of the hotel and headed home.

The end. Mostly because I'm tired of typing. More thoughts later, perhaps.