ANATOMY OF A RACE - The Big Peach Fall Five-Miler

It's 5:30am. I didn't want to wake up this early. My alarm was set for 6 but I knew Tim would wake up earlier. It takes him longer to prepare and he always wants to get there early. I lay in bed trying to stay warm while also trying to visualize what I'll do in the race. The dog is crowding me so I finally decide to get up. Clothes have been laid out the night before but I'm not sure of the weather. It's not the actual race weather I'm worried about, it's the waiting before the race starts.

Down in the kitchen it's time to consume the usual pre-race food. Once you find what you like and what agrees with your system, you stick with it. Even if it gets boring. So I dutifully fix my whole wheat mini bagel with peanut butter and drink a glass of Gatorade. I also make sure to pick out a GU energy gel to eat right before the race. As I look over the various flavors, I settle on Jet Blackberry and wonder if the extra caffeine in it will negatively affect me.

After waiting for Tim to get out of the bathroom (his third trip), we get into the car and head out. Walter Reeves is on the radio answering questions about gardening. I'm still wondering about the weather. It's about 45 degrees and I've put on a sweatshirt overtop of my race clothes. Tim and I make small talk about the race - what pace are we aiming for, what parts of the course will be hard, will he place in his age group. Last year he placed 3rd in the 45-49 group, but now he's 50. You'd think he would do better this year, especially because he's been training alot and he's faster. Nope. He's already checked results from last year's race. His time from last year wouldn't have even placed him in the 50-54 group. Go figure. Placing in my age group is not even on my radar screen. I'm not fast enough - yet. :)

The drive to the race is short. The roads haven't been closed yet and we're some of the first to arrive. The race volunteers can't find our bib numbers even though we registered in person last month. So we fill out some more forms and get new bibs. We sneak into a nearby fitness center and enjoy the warmth as we safety pin the bibs on our shirts. I realize we'll have to leave this toasty enclave and inwardly complain. This is the part I don't like - the waiting. We start to warm up by running a few laps around the parking lot. I eat the gel and think about whether I should go to the bathroom one last time. The thought quickly leaves my brain as I remember that the only option is a portajohn. Yuck. I try to avoid those things at all costs.

After warming up and stretching I've gotten relatively comfortable. We head to the start line and then I get cold again. My fingers and toes suffer the worst in the cold. They get numb very quickly and take forever to .. well .. un-numb. I rub my hands together and wonder if I've lined up too far in the front of the pack. There's a woman with a stroller behind me and a race official tells her to move to the back. She pretends like she's going to but doesn't. I don't really blame her - she looks fast. A man next to me complains about races never starting on time. My finger is on the start button of my watch as I look around for signs that this race is going to start. Finally I see a guy with a starter's pistol ahead of us.

And we're off! I can tell that I've lined up correctly because I don't have to pass anyone. Ha! The woman with the jogging stroller deftly and very quickly passes me as we run out of the parking lot. OOH, I'm cold. I clench my hands into a tight fist but it doesn't help. My toes are numb. There's nothing I can do but remind myself that it will get better after the first mile.

The first mile of a race is always tricky. How fast should you go? Will adrenaline and excitement make you go out too fast? It's always exciting to me to hear that first mile split time. I'm hoping for 8:30 or faster - preferably faster. 8:31. Not bad but not what I'd expected. I usually go out too fast the first mile. No problem. I'm still on pace for a 42:30 which is my first goal. We've turned onto a familiar road for the second mile. I run this road every week with my running partner. It's comforting to know every dip and turn that comes along. My eyes get distracted by various things. An extremely tall guy passes me. He must be at least 6'10''. A very small boy passes me with his dad pacing him. He's in a bright yellow shirt and looks like a serious runner. We pass a neighborhood and people who've come out to watch the race cheer him on calling out his race number. He's confused but realizes they're cheering for him. Pretty cool.

I race on and every once in a while I lose my focus. I can get easily distracted by other runners, my own breathing, or just wondering about another part of the race course and how I'll finish. When that happens I try to repeat an encouraging phrase like, "It's all good," or "Just relax." Today I chose a Scripture I'd read the night before, "Oh Lord, my God, You are very great." (Psalm 104) It's a beautiful morning and this verse really applies. As we turn onto the next road I focus on the hills. I don't want to go all out on the downhills because that's free speed. You naturally go faster on the downhills so I need to use those for recovery. On the uphills I pass a couple people. I remind myself that I recently did a race with a lot bigger hills. These hills aren't nearly as bad.

Mile 2 split was 17 flat so I try to push a little. My breathing is good and I feel like I can go faster. Mile 3 is 10 seconds faster and then we make our next turn. I've been dreading this turn a little. We turn onto a hill but it doesn't seem like a hill unless you're running it. It also doesn't seem to end. I push up it and try to relax but my competitive spirit takes over and I try to pass some other people. The kid in the yellow shirt had been quite a bit ahead of me but I spy him as I crest the hill. Maybe I can beat him? That sounds bad doesn't it? I'm a 38 year old mother of three. Shouldn't I be more mature? Maturity has nothing to do with it - I'm just trying to find some person to focus on as a way to challenge myself at the end of this race. The kid and his dad look winded and I pass them by.

The course has now flattened out and will be flat until the end. I remember Tim saying that when you get to the field on your right you should be picking up the pace. The four mile split is called right at the field. I'm under pace and encouraged. Maybe I can break 42. I pick it up and pass about four people. My breathing is now getting loud and labored. Suddenly I can hear a guy on a microphone calling out times at the finish. I'm close. Can I keep this pace up? I wonder if the kid is close by and I look over my shoulder. (I know, I'm bad.) With less than a quarter mile to go the guy on the microphone says, "Who's done their speedwork this summer!" I find an extra gear as I realize the kid is gaining on me. I look up at the clock and cross one step ahead of him in 41:18. My last mile was 7:28!