Sisyphus

I ran in the High Speed Pursuit half marathon last Saturday. I did end up driving down to check out the course beforehand. And I bought new shoes. I was on a mission.

The race began and ended at the Idaho State Correctional Institution, the prison south of town. The cool thing about this race, in my opinion, was that the prisoners participated as well. No, they weren't let out. They ran their laps inside the fence instead. But how awesome would that have been?

Based on prior years' results, I knew it would be safe to start near the front of the pack. Between the half marathoners and those running the 5K and 10K, there were about 400 runners total. I didn't want to get held up.

I got out fast. It wasn't really on purpose, but I did have the thought in my head beforehand that maybe I should change my slow-out-of-the-gate strategy. Well, it's less a strategy and more about self-preservation. Anyway, my subconscious and I ran the first mile in 6:16. And I was at 12:50 after two, which was also the point where the half-marathon and 10K courses split from the 5K course. Needing to average a 6:50 pace over the 13.1-mile course, I was already 50 seconds ahead. I was surprised, a tad excited, yet leery of the hill at Mile 12.

The course was great. Heading south along Pleasant Valley Road, we ran on the parallel tank track. Between running on dirt, the wide-open vistas, and the breeze, it reminded me of South Dakota. By the time I hit Mile 4 on Barker Road, my time was 26:30, still 50 seconds ahead. Turning north on Cole Road, I lost some time through the halfway point. There was a slight uphill, but it was nothing serious.

I don't know what my problem is in the middle part of these half marathons. Maybe it's losing the high of a fast start. It could also be a lack of focus. It doesn't take me long in a race to separate myself from both the frontrunners ahead of me and the pack behind. And Saturday was no different. It's possible my mind starts to think that I'm just on a regular run instead of in the middle of a race with a chance to meet a goal. Who knows.

Or, in this case, it could be that I dropped my hat on the ground as I was taking my gloves off. Silly me, I put my watch on over the glove, which made it nearly impossible to remove. So, as I'm trying to, no joke, tear the glove off with my teeth, I lost the grip on the hat I had already removed. That was about five seconds lost right there. Lessons learned: 1.) Take the gloves off first, then the hat. 2.) Don't be an idiot next time and make sure the glove isn't underneath the watchband.

There was a slight rise in the road before dropping down into the canyon. Through nine miles, I was exactly on pace. That was a bit disheartening considering how much my pace had slowed and thinking about the hill in three miles where a 6:50 pace would be impossible to maintain for close to a half mile. But I was still on pace after nine miles with a sweet downhill still to come!

It was at this point that a runner caught up to me, the first racer I had seen in six miles and the first and only one to pass me. He approached just as the downhill began, so I was able to hang with him for a bit. At the bottom of the hill, however, we turned east on 10 Mile Creek Road and I let him go. But it's not like he sped away. He remained within striking distance.

At Mile 10, I was 20 seconds ahead. I was excited! This could be the 1:30 race! Now, though, I was running into the wind. After another mile, I was 20 seconds behind. And I thought I had picked up the pace. It sucked. Plain and simple.

The hill began at Mile 12 and it was a bitch. I'm not going to complain about it because no one wants to run a completely flat, boring course. But it was brutal. I've never felt such desperation in a race before, knowing I was so close to a goal with such a huge obstacle in the way. And what a perfect place for the race photographer to station himself! (Click here for photos. Note the hill. And my face.) My legs felt like mush at the top, but, summoning my inner Lewis and Clark, I proceeded on.

I made the final turn onto the last straightaway with a time of 1:25. There were these huge yellow flags at the finish line and just five minutes to get there. I could see them from quite a distance, which just made judging how much further I had to run that much harder. I pushed and pushed, glancing down at my watch as those minutes ticked away. When I realized 1:30 wasn't going to happen, running a personal best was my new goal. And I did achieve that one at 1:30:27.

Twenty-seven seconds. I've got to say, I was pretty emotional about it. Not that I let it show. I let out a "Fuck" or two as my pilot friend, bless his heart, tried to cheer me up. I was so close. And I was ahead of schedule! After 10 miles!!! Even though I thought I was going to break down, I didn't.

The Pilot told me I came in sixth. We walked over to look at the results. Only the first four times had been posted ... and none of them were in my age group. Which meant that as long as the fifth-place runner wasn't between the ages of 30 to 39, I would take the age group, a nice consolation prize. The only problem was that he looked around my age. Then again, some runners age fast. There is such a thing as running too much. I hoped he was a hard-looking 29-year-old.

When the results were updated, I learned that Mr. Fifth Place was indeed in my age group. Figures! I just laughed and that actually made me felt better. When I looked up the results online later, I saw that the seventh- and eighth-place runners were also in the 30-39 group. We all finished within a minute of each other. That also made me feel good. About halfway through the race, I heard a couple runners talking behind me (which drives me batty). When I dropped my hat, I glanced back to see that even though they weren't right on my tail, they were still close. But they never caught me.

And let me not forget about the PR, my second this year. I shaved 12 seconds off of my Brookings time. It is an accomplishment.

There's another half marathon a week from tomorrow. Since I haven't registered, it would be $60 bucks to enter. I drove the course Tuesday afternoon and it is not PR material. Yes, it would be a pretty run. But for 60 bucks, I need more than fall colors and rolling hills. It's too bad because I think I'm at a really strong spot with my running right now. Oh well, I can start again next year.

I know I'm obsessing about this goal. How else can I describe it when I run the fastest I've ever run and I'm on the verge of tears. But I'd really like to get to this milestone.