My Track Record

Cross-country races make me nostalgic in a way that other races don't. Maybe it's because I've been running in them nearly every fall since 1985; maybe it's because ten of those seasons were spent amidst the foliage for which New England is famous. And maybe it's because cross-country stirs up emotions more effectively than, say, track races. Nothing in the world of distance running is quite as exciting or scary as galloping through the countryside in very close proximity to many, many others of similar speed.

The thrill and fear of the pack were imprinted upon me at a young age. That's partly because a lot of junior high and high school races consisted of a start across an open field followed by a long, narrow trail into the woods. In other words, you had to go out fast to avoid getting trapped behind dozens of runners. I never had much sprinting speed and considered these races cruel for penalizing me so severely right from the gun.

The old sights and sounds seemed even less distant than usual at the Bellevue Community College Invitational on October 18th. On the drive over to Lake Sammamish State Park, my "New Wave Hits of the '80s, Vol. 11" CD helped set a retrospective mood. In a big country, dreams stay with you....

A minute into the race, the course narrows to a width of about three runners. I'm behind about 15 rows of them. Yes, this is what it had been like in junior high, except that I'm now surrounded by masters runners. I start to pick them off, glad to have more time for moving up than in the old days. David White-Espin, John O'Hearn, Carl Winter. There sure are a lot of them. Paul Abdalla, Kevin McGinnis. Mike Bailey -- not a master, but older than me, I think. Why are my splits getting unrealistically fast? Finally, in the last mile, Tony Young and fellow submaster Ben Sauvage. Uh-oh, Ben is outkicking me -- another achingly familiar sensation. Well, at least I'm closer to him this time than I was last time.

I left the race feeling satisfied that I had recovered well from my slower-than-advisable start. I was patient, focused on passing one guy at a time, and maintained the fastest pace that my fitness would allow. On the whole, I suppose I've learned a thing or two since 7th grade. Now if I could just learn the words to 99 Luftballons....

The day after the race, I was at a house-warming party. A woman watching over a young daughter looked familiar. "Do I know you?" I asked. "Are you from Vermont?" she replied. It was Andrea Eells (now Korry), the #4 runner on the 1987 Rutland High School women's cross-country team. I hadn't seen her since she graduated, but, 20 years and three kids later, she looks more or less the same.

Posted by crowther at 9:35 PM | Permalink

Phil turns two years old on Monday. As an early birthday present, we got him an inflatable tee-ball set. His swing needs a lot of work, but he sure has a hell of a war cry....

Posted by crowther at 9:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Running-wise, the days from mid-August to the end of September were one of the most frustrating periods of my life.

It's bad enough to suddenly need an additional 15 to 20 seconds per mile on every run, from speed workouts to easy 6-milers. It's much worse to not know why.

Most slowdowns of this magnitude are bearable because they have an obvious cause -- illness, weight gain, too much or too little recent training, or whatever -- which in turn suggests an obvious solution. In the absence of a clear cause, though, one can drive oneself crazy with idle speculation. Is this condition permanent? Will I now be slower for the rest of my life? If so, will I still be able to derive some enjoyment from competing, or will I turn into a non-racing "fitness jogger"?

After a month of pondering the latter question, I decided that I might still try another 100-miler someday, since I could certainly improve upon my one previous attempt at the distance. Much less appealing was the thought of spending shorter races doing a poor impersonation of my former self. In between uniformly bad workouts, I wondered whether to give up my spot on the United States 100K World Cup team that will compete in Italy on November 8th.

After about seven weeks of the sudden-onset idiopathic slowness, I finally started showing some improvement. On Thursday the 2nd, I managed to complete my hilly 3.7-mile Capitol Hill time trial in 21:24 -- far off of my personal best of 20:41, but far faster than the 21:58 I had produced three weeks earlier. Then on Monday the 6th, I did 2 x 1530m in Cal Anderson Park in 5:01/4:59 -- not completely dissimilar to a 4:55/4:52 effort during happier times.

Thus I appear to be moving in the right direction. I still don't know what was afflicting me; my best guess is that I had a sneaky, lingering virus that slowed me down without causing any other major symptoms. The whole thing is weirdly reminiscent of the unexplained seven-week slumps that fellow Seattle ultramarathoners Brian Morrison, Michael Sanders, and Ralph Pooler all experienced last summer. ("If I weren't a runner, I probably wouldn't have known that anything was wrong with me," Brian recalls.)

And now it's time to cram for Italy.

Posted by crowther at 6:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)