Numbers, Numbers

Sometimes the official time is with you, and sometimes it’s agin’ you. Like, for example, the Herndon Turkey Trot, when my watch time was well below the official time, which I chalked up to lag time in approaching the start line. But here, my official time at the 2006 Reston 5k was 45:25, even though my watch time was 50:39. How did that happen?

Last year I felt unprepared for this, my first “preseason” event, because my training had been shoddy due to working overtime and extreme job pressure. This year, I didn’t have those job pressures, but still had shoddy winter training due to bar exam preparation. In fact, I didn’t train at all in February, spending every waking moment studying. I haven’t received results yet, but I sure hope it was worth it – I lost conditioning AND gained 10 pounds. Not good.

I learned my first lesson of the year: Winter training will always be a challenge, for one reason or another. Anticipate that and find a way to work around it.

So I get to the race, and I’ve got to say – this really is a fun one. I love being able to roll out of bed only an hour before a race start and walk to the start line. The route is familiar, covering part of the Reston bike and run courses (I mentally planted seeds of good karma along the way, hoping that they’ll come to fruition in September). There are always friendly faces; seeing Dave C. reminded me that triathlon season is just around the corner. I thanked the volunteers for helping, including Brian M., a SLHS student who was my neighbor for many years until his parents bought a new house nearby. That’s another reason why I like this race: supporting high school sports.

Back to the race. I stretched a little, sipped some water, and we were off. My chunka-chunka-chunka rhythm was working well until about 7:00 when my old bugaboo – high ankle pain – flared up. This year, after more experience (and expert coaching and encouragement from Coach Debi), I knew that it would be excruciatingly painful for about 13:00 more, but would then subside as my the tendons calmed down. I figured that it’s their way of protesting the lack of activity and added ballast.

I ran the first mile in just under 14:00 (which is good for me), but slowed down and stopped to stretch a time or two more. When I topped the hill on Twin Lakes, I was feeling GREAT, so I leaned into the hill, relaxed (“soft knees, soft knees”) and let it go. My BodyLink clocked doing an 8:55 mile at the fastest point. So THAT’s what running fast feels like!

At about this time, the 10-milers were looping back and offering encouragement. This made me feel even better. One of my pet peeves is when some people find out that I’m a triathlete and say “Good for you!” I translate that to mean “Oh my God, how can someone so fat call herself a triathlete – they are all so fit – think of something nice to say – think – think”. And that’s probably not fair. Perhaps they really aren’t thinking that, and that’s just my own baggage (bad pun, I know).

BUT – when runners or cyclists pass and say “Looking strong!” or “Good job!” – that makes my day and adds a spring to my step. And to the folks who said “Hey Jamie, looking good!” I’m sorry if I didn’t respond. At 8:55, the time-space continuum was stretching, and everything was a blur. ;)

Anyhow, the stretch-stops slowed me down, but I still thought that I was faster than last year, when I walked about half of the 5k. So I was stunned to see 50:39 on my watch at the finish – the same watch that told me about my “blazing speed”.

I felt good, though, and thoroughly enjoyed the race. But I rationalized that the numbers shouldn’t mean so much – that I should trust how I felt and grade my performance that way. I almost had myself believing that claptrap when I saw the official results, which had me at a few seconds slower that last year. That’s still not encouraging, but it did make me feel better.

So my next event is the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler. And numbers DO matter. Their cutoff is 2:20, which equates to a consistent 14:00 mile, even if you do have to stop and stretch. The race literature stresses the event cutoff and asks people to run the 5k if they can’t make 2:20. But then again, it also states that no headphones are allowed – while a photo on the preceding page shows four runners prominently displayed at the front of the photo running with – you guessed it – headphones.

I’m trying for the 10 miles. I’ve run this distance before and I know that I can make it. If they pull my bib at 2:20, fine. I’ll just run along on the sidewalk and look at the cherry blossoms.

Because numbers can have any meaning that we ascribe to them.