I showed up to the track just before 5:00. It was raining hard. Strong, cold gusts were driving the drops horizontally. In the time it took me to walk from Tower Rd. and South St. to the SMU track, I was soaked. Really soaked.
I looked for Cliff and the other runners – nobody was there. In fact, nobody was on the track at all because there was a woman’s rugby game starting and the near side of the track was blocked with advertising stuff for the game. Damn.
Protocol states that when Cliff isn’t at the track, he’s at Point Pleasant. But I’m soaked; I’m cold; I’m miserable and grumpy. I wonder if Cliff will be there in this kind of weather. So what do I do? Walk down to Point Pleasant to see if Cliff is there, of course. Along the way I ran into Nick – he’s doing the same. Wind and rain and cold – doesn’t matter; we’re going to run.
I wander down Tower Road and into the park to the particular spot where Cliff sets up shop. Is he there? Of course. He’s there in a big red slicker. Wind and rain and cold – doesn’t matter. If there are runners, he’s there. His dedication is inspiring. But it’s nothing to him; it’s just what he does.
There’s nowhere to change, really – nowhere to sit, even. So I do the best I can to take off my jeans (shorts are underneath – no public nudity) and put on socks and shoes while standing under a tree getting soaked. Good start. Once dressed, though, it’s business as usual… almost. Everyone is grumbling a little bit more today. But grumbling is just part of the process – nobody would trade this – everyone knows that running when it’s tough, when all sane people are indoors, is exactly what they are looking for. This rainy workout is a more direct expression of our will – a will that creates and sustains meaning in an otherwise meaningless moment. (Not that anyone but me thinks like this… damn PhD.)
For me, though, this moment is about doing 4x1200 @ threshold (6:00/mile) with 3:00 rests. It’s about running around and through deep puddles, about taking the gusts of wind on the chest with a grunt, about keeping the pace despite water-logged shoes, rain-heavy clothes, and numb arms. But it’s also about complaining bitterly along with everyone else. I mean, none of us has the stoicism to gut this one out without comment. We’re still sissy runners at heart.
In the end, we all got our workouts done. This was my last one before Valley – that’s why it was lighter (only 4 repeats instead of 6 thresholds and some VO2 max work). I must admit that my legs feel like they’re full of lead, but I think that feeling will go away by Sunday. My wife and I have been painting the bedroom the last few days, and it’s been way more physically tiring than I would have imagined. With some rest, I should be good to go.
My goal for the race is simple: run 6 minute miles. I don’t care about place, although a top 3 finish would be really nice. The problem with having a place goal is that you have no real control over it; it all depends on who shows up on the day. There are lots of guys out there who can run faster – I just hope they’ve got their sights set on other races. At least I know nobody else in Cliff’s group is running it, and none of the Dal guys will run a road race mid-season. That helps. But there are a handful of others who might be there. I find it’s best simply to stick to a pace goal and leave the placing to chance.
All in all, though, I’m pretty psyched. My brother is running the race too, and he’s bringing my nephew Patrick along. My aunt Jane will be there as well – and, of course, Julie-Ann will be there: she’s still never missed a race. Her support is amazing and inspiring. She’s never once questioned the sanity of what I do – only the sanity of some of my ill-conceived training decisions!
So my Valley Thanksgiving run will be a family run. I’ve got my fingers crossed that the weather will be as spectacular as last year. Hopefully, I’ll cross the line feeling good not just about my time but also about the decisions I make during the race. I’m prepared – all I gotta do is run smart!
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