Captain's Log - November 11, 2012, Sunday
Jamestown toll booth: 5:45 A.M. It's dark here, but there's a glimmer of brightness in the east...kind of eerie.
All I see is a few volunteers telling us where to go.
Walking behind the bridge administration building to the staging area... all of a sudden, there's a seething mass of humanity... thousands of runners mingling, stretching, running and dancing to music.
It's cold, but not bad. My Salvation Army sweats are working fine.
Walking around, and seeing several friends including a former student at Salve. Everyone getting psyched. A large bunch of people are wearing shirts that say "Joe would Go" in honor of Joe Caruso, a beloved Newport runner who recently passed away.
The sky slowly brightens. A tiny crescent moon peeks through the clouds.
Show time! Tossing my Salvation sweats in a pile of discarded clothes. We line up according to expected pace. I hop in between 10 and 12 minutes. Everybody's bouncing and laughing. The sky brightens and the clouds are slowly receding.
They play the National Anthem, gun fires and we're off.
The long line of runners snakes around and up the ramp and soon we're on the bridge. The first section is the long hill.
Remember: short race, fast pace.
I'm keeping a fast pace. Just because it's a hill, you can't slack. And a 4-miler is so short that you really have to go flat out all the way. Of course "fast pace" and "flat out" are relative terms in my running world.
Huffing and puffing; stressing and straining. My iPod is cranked up, and I'm listening to "Dancin in the Streets."
Jockeying for position, trying to find a good pace in the face of the awesome hill and the enormous bridge stanchions looming way up there.
Gotta keep a good pace on this hill or I'll be too far behind. Trying different techniques...pushing off my forefront after landing, visualizing a smooth strong stride and trying to imprint my brain.
Now the fun part. I'm moving in and out and between runners. Gaining on most, and being passed by others. Feeling the pain, but flying with joy.
Lifting sun...a large orange orb. Magnificent. Looking down at the boats and out to the ocean. The higher I go, the more ocean.
Surrounded by a fascinating mix of body types, ages and outfits. Hard to tell who's in better shape as I focus on some targets to catch. At the same time runners catch me and I stay with them for a while and then let them go (no choice)...they helped me. Racing is cooperative and competitive.
The summit still seems impossibly far. Now the clouds are almost gone...basking in the rising sun.
Legs really hurting now. Icepicks in my quads. Straining. Quads not usually a problem...it's the hill.
I'm on top of the world now. Such a temptation to slow down and regroup. Can't do it. In fact, I gotta pick it up. Experimenting with downhill strides...minimize the shock-waves assaulting my leg muscles. Take advantage of gravity. Lungs aching...running through a sea of lactic acid.
Visualize the stride.
People are stopping and taking pictures with their cell phones. The newspaper reported that a couple actually got engaged at the summit.
Catching up with a friend. She's running and talking with her girlfriend and she seems relaxed. I bump her and we share a laugh and some encouraging words. I pull ahead...but she's cruising and soon catches up and passes me. She's gotta be under forty, so that's OK. Soon she's out-of-sight.
Oh no! Left shoe feels a little loose. What a nightmare if it comes untied...always one of my fears-- stopping and retying. I try to ignore it...turns out OK.
Wondering about my time. Getting weaker, but keep the pace. Music essential.
Street is flattening and the off ramp is coming up. Running down the off ramp. Off the bridge and picking up speed now. This is when I've got to go for it. Passing more people and blocking out the pain.
Looks like my old girlfriend ahead. Long blond hair and body type just like her. Gotta find out. She's pretty competitive, so if I catch her we'll probably race to the end. She's about fifty feet ahead.
Picking up even more to catch her, but she's doing the same. I finally catch up and it's not her, but she helped me anyway.
Running down America's Cup Avenue. There's the finish, people all over, cheering us to the line.
I cross the finish and stagger along the chute to water and orange slices.
Pretty good, I guess. I finished 9th out of 25 in my age group (65 to 69) and almost in the top half overall, 1,207 out of 2218. Didn't meet my goal of sub-ten minute pace, however. But I'll blame it on the hill.
Two weeks to the Pie Run on Thanksgiving morning.
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