I put myself near the front, but not at the front; I didn't want to be in a huge traffic jam to start the race. From the start, I just ran, always trying to go hard, without going too hard. I didn't wear a HR, partly because I didn't want to psych myself out, and partly because I knew the cold weather would make it all wonky. The first mile was downhill, so I tried to use it to my advantage. It turned out to be my fastest mile, but that was ok, because I had energy and wanted to use the terrain. I actually tried to use the downhills to my advantage the whole race; it was free speed and a chance to let my legs loosen up some; I think it definitely helped. I warmed up after a couple miles, and then we joined up with the folks running the 10K. I liked this a lot; there's nothing better for confidence than passing hundreds of people!
The rest of the race was uneventful until about mile 8 or so, when my nemesis showed up. This was the first race I've had someone so clearly pace off me. We literally ran next to each for about 5-6 miles, right up to the finish line. We really never spoke, here was our entire conversation:
Me: "This hill is gonna be tough"
Him: "Yep"

..

Him: "Don't let me mess you up. I'm pacing off you."
Me: "No problem. I'm just going hard enough to hold"

..

Me: "Ok, here's where we get some speed." -I knew there was a long downhill at about mile 10

We were neck and neck, until he managed to out kick me at the very end, finishing a few seconds ahead. Part of me wanted to be bothered that he beat me, but I also wouldn't have gone as hard for most of the race if he hadn't been with me, so I'm ok with it. In a race, I'd always rather have someone push me.
My legs were pretty beat for the last couple miles, but I still managed to hold my pace, which I'm happy about.

Nothing. I blew even my most optimistic expectations out of the water. I wanted to beat 1:50, which I'd run on a training run. I thought that on a good day, I might be able to get around 1:45. Then, Randy, one of my BT mentors, predicted 1:43, which I didn't think I was capable of.
During the race, I decided to never look at my time; I just ran hard enough that I could hold that pace, and I figured the time would work itself out, which it did.

I was dead. My legs have never hurt that badly. I grabbed a bunch of food, and sat down and starting eating and drinking. I was freezing, of course!


Nothing I can think of.


I love this race, and the course. I'll definitely plan on doing this race far into the future!