Before I get into the race report for the 2011 Lung Run, I just want to proclaim (with trumpet flourish) that my friends and family raised $500 for the run! That’s huge. Thank you all for supporting this event – I promise not to hit y’all up for cash for another year!
So. The race. Story first. Reflections second.
I was working right up until the minute I left the house to catch the ferry to Halifax. My usual routine is just to take it easy, but no such luck – deadlines are called deadlines for good reason, right? But the walk to Pier 21, where the race was taking place, was a great chance to get my head into the right space for racing. I have to talk myself into hurting – it takes some time.
Once there, I warmed up with Tyler and Erin, fellow Antiques; did some drills and strides; and then joined the pack at the start.
This race always attracts a deep field, so I seeded myself back from the front – but not too far back. People made speeches – yadda yadda – and then the start was called. I love how we all tense ourselves for the start, as if those first few steps will make the difference over 5000m. But what are ya gonna do – all of us keeners in the front take this stuff seriously.
I’d decided for this race not to wear a watch. Great decision. All I focused on as I rounded the first turn around the Garrison brewery was how my body was feeling and who was around me. The nice thing about this race is there are always a number of people running about the same pace as I do, and this year, a group of four of us fell in together after about 500m – two of whom I knew: Ray and Kenny.
The first mile was mostly into the wind out towards the container terminal. The wind was fairly brisk (20-30km/h) but nothing like last year when the gusts practically knocked me off balance. It was a nice temperature too – 8 or so. It felt great to get out under the sun in my Cliff’s Antiques singlet and expose my pasty legs and arms to the sun again!
At the first mile mark, they had a guy reading times from a stopwatch – I went through in 5:25 (3:22/k pace). This was good. This was very good. I was still feeling within myself, so I figured I could lock that pace in and stride out a sub 17. The other three guys I was with tried to step it up as we made the turn just after the mile mark. I let them go a bit, but they didn’t really open up much of a gap.
For the next couple of k, I just tried to keep the engine going. At 4k, the course veers onto the boardwalk, and there are numerous 90degree turns to be negotiated. I hate turns. Hate ‘em. I love locking in the pace and driving it home. Turns necessitate deceleration and acceleration – and when I’m hurting, acceleration does not happen without a fight. Lucky for me, I had three other guys to key off of, but I think all of us lost time over the first half of that last k.
The final 500m or so is a straight shot to the finish line – a deceptively far away finish line. With about 400m to go, there is a rise as you leave the boardwalk and enter the new market area. The other three boys were still ahead of me, but when I saw that rise, I knew I could make a move. They struggled going up while I turned on the jets. I passed two of them. It was great. But it meant I’d committed to 400m of hell. All I could think was “knees, knees, knees” as I tried to open up my stride and increase my turnover. With 200m to go, I had Kenny in my sights. At that point, one of the dudes I’d passed found another gear and passed both of us. Ray had fallen off. I was still charging at Kenny. Arms pumping. Legs screaming. Heart pounding. But dammit, Kenny held me off and finished a second ahead, while the other guy finished a second ahead of him.
So I ended in 13th with a 17:02. How I think about that time kinda depends on my mood. When I’m not feeling great, I focus on the fact that, after a year of training, I was only a few seconds faster over the same course – on a less windy day. Most of the time, though, I’m pleased with it. My legs have been feeling shot, so I’m happy to get a decent time. And I’m happy that I raced the thing – I didn’t worry about the time or the clock. And I didn’t quit coming down the final 400 – I went for it. I need some speed work to improve my finish, but I wasn’t afraid of the hurt – good sign.
So there it is. Lung Run 2011 was a success. And afterwards, a bunch of us Antiques gathered at Heather’s place near the race start/finish for beer and pizza. All in all, a perfect way to spend a Saturday evening.
