Broad Street Run

My story (and it is long) starts on Saturday. Long-time readers of this blog will remember that last year I crashed my bike hard and, instead of getting a good night's sleep Saturday night, I woke up every 90 minutes to talk to a very sweet almost-Dr CAC (who was home in Palo Alto for the weekend, but got up through the night to call and make sure I hadn't gone unconscious from subdural bleeding.) I was still thinking of racing, and woke up at 5 to see how I felt, but with the chorus of "don't runs!" coming from friends and family ringing in my ears and the bruises puffing up overnight... for once, the Stubborn Boy listened and did not run (and then stubbornly snuck in a 7 miler later that day.)

I rehash this story (yet again) because, well, bike crashes are sort of traumatic by definition, and because this past Saturday started out as a Groundhog Day-esque replay of last year: I hopped on my bike, peddaled over to the Linc, locked my bike to the same pole, picked up my bib and shirt, went to the same market (Reading) and bought dinner supplies, and then started back. The whole ride home I kept reminding myself that lightning couldn't possibly strike twice but, even so, I was extra paranoid/careful/defensive... and, thankfully, made it home in one piece this year (last year, I literally did not come home in one piece: a large chunk of molar ended up somewhere on Spruce Street.) I cleaned the kitchen, which was still all nasty from our house party on Friday night, got dinner going, and then rushed over to Darren and Jen's excellent Derby Party. Watched the greatest/fastest two minutes in sports, hurried back home to finish cooking (vegan sausage, sauteed veggies with a light farfelle pesto, salad, and blueberry crumble) and had a nice pre-race meal with fellow first-time BSRer Jeff. Capped over the evening with a prickly pear vodka tonic, brought by our weekend houseguest from AZ, which knocked me out.

Sunday morning I was up at 5 for yogurt, banana, and coffee, then ran over to Jeff's place and caught the subway up to the start. I wanted to get a good warmup in, but figured I might as well get to the start wicked early and run around up there. Did a ~20min easy jog with Jeff down past the 1mi marker and back, got some water and stretched out, and then did another ~10 min loop with some short strides. I hadn't run in 3 days, and had managed my food prep perfectly (ate like a pig for the previous 36 hours, but emptied everything out shortly after waking up in the morning... sorry that's probably TMI, but GI stuff can be important!) Lined up in the middle of the 6-min mile pace section and waited for the start.

Mayor Nutter gave a little speech and fired off the horn and about 20 seconds later I was going over the chip mats. The race bunched up, predictably, but since we had both sides of Broad Street, and I was close-ish to the front of the pack, it wasn't too bad. The first mile is a gentle but steady downhill, so I just let it carry me down, and didn't worry about wasting any energy making silly surges. The first mile passes in 6:4x and feels easy, so I feel good. The second and third miles have some gentle rolls (can't quite call them hills) but I'm in a pack of people running at around the same pace, so we glide up over them and speed up on the downhills. I miss the second mile marker, but the split at mile 3 is 13:31, so I'm right on 6:4x pace. Mile 4 goes by Temple and I slow a bit to 6:51, but then I see City Hall through the fog and the 5th mile goes in 6:45 again, putting my halfway split at 33:57. We wind around City Hall and through the crowds in Center City. I've heard that this is often a fast mile, but my stomach is starting to feel heavy (maybe I didn't plan that eating so well after all) and it goes in 6:50. My legs feel a little heavy, and I wonder if I'll have anything left for the last three. I hook onto a father-son East African looking team. The dad is clearly an experienced runner, the son is really young (14? 15?). They are gliding along and making it look easy. The dad keeps talking about focusing on staying strong and running easy, and that the race starts at 8, and I try to follow his instructions (relax my breathing, pull my shoulders down, let my stride glide along strong). At mile 8, the dad says something about now let's do sixes, and I assume they'll take off, but after an initial surge they slow again and soon I'm with them again. My stomach worries have gone and I feel strong now, so I make a move. I'm picking people off slow but steady and the the miles between Oregon and the stadiums, which are often long and boring, don't even register. The marker for mile 9 goes by and I kick it up some more. We pass the gate to the Navy yard and I pick a guy in front of me a few dozen yards in front of me and take off in a full on kick. I pass him, he catches up, and we're the only two kicking as we zoom by what feels like a bunch of people. I actually can't remember who finished in front, but we both surged through the chute together and I click my watch stop and see 1:07:37!! (The :32 I wrote below was just me reading my watch wrong.)

This post is already getting way too long; I promise I won't drag it out much more. But I'm so happy. I haven't raced anything this short in a while (5k a few weeks ago was a tuneup for this), but also have not felt like I've been in good enough shape to really go at the distances I've been doing. My new plan (after a short break of just running whatever I feel like) is to keep focused on BQ-equivalent training. That means a 5k at sub-19m26s, a 10k at sub 40m21s, and a half at sub-1h29m48s. I'm probably just delusional after a good race, but they feel doable.

The rest of my Sunday consisted of a long trek around the hood trying to find brunch with Jeff, Heidi and the cute vet surgery residents, then taking our AZ visitor for a spin out to Conshy via Lower Merion and back by the Schuylkill River Trail, Manayunk, and Kelly Dr.

Today I just did an easy 3mi and a short upper body lift at Pottruck.