Sunday, September 19, 2010

I'm with Bon Jovi: "I LOVE THIS TOWN!!!"

One of the signs of maturity, it seems, is that you have passed the point where very little surprises you about the world, and even less frequently do you surprise yourself. The funny thing about that kind of maturity, though, is that it's fluid; one day you feel positively ancient, and the next you may be completely reborn. (But just for the record, I am hardly "mature" by any definition.)

After yesterday's very relaxed Race for Hope 5k near my home in Albany, I felt prepared and even eager for this morning's Saratoga Palio 5k. It's actually been a while since I was genuinely excited about running a 5k. This morning was almost like the excited anticipation of my first 5k, the Freihofer's Run for Women. I prepped everything last night, since I knew it would be an early morning for me. I slept rather strangely, with dreams of repeatedly waking from weird dreams, all wrapped up in weird dreams. When the alarm went off at 0430, I hardly jumped out of bed, raring to go. Instead, I carefully picked up my sleeping Chi-mix puppy, Tessie, while I single-handedly put on a shirt and pants to take both Tessie and my seven-year-old Chi, Diva, outside for a very early morning potty-and-poop session. This actually requires a good deal of skill, considering that of Tessie's six pounds of weight, at least two-thirds of it must be comprised of bladder.

After the las perritas finished their cover of BTO's "Taking Care of Business," I ate what is probably the earliest breakfast of my life. It's nothing for me to eat half a banana and a small glass of milk before an early morning workout, but this was full-on typical morning breakfast I was eating. At 5AM.

I showered, put on my running clothes and headed out the door, going through my checklist one last time. At 5:30, I headed toward Saratoga Springs and hoped 'Toga Town would be as good to me this morning as she has been for so many 5k's this year. As I drove up the Northway in the pre-dawn darkness, the moon was nowhere to be found. In my car's CD player were five disks that I call "The Fish 98," a compilation of songs sent to my by my college friend, Dan Fisher. As I passed Clifton Park, Frank Sinatra's "In the Wee Small Hours" began to play. I've never been a big Sinatra fan (I'm more of a Tony Bennett girl, myself), but I sat back and relaxed behind the wheel while Ol' Blue Eyes honored me with a pre-race serenade.

I arrived in Saratoga around 6:15AM, when race day check-in opened. I had picked up my race packet and goodie bag the previous day (after finishing the Race for Hope 5k), but between the estimated 1,000+ race registrants who would be descending on my favorite city in New York State and said city's notorious there's-plenty-of-parking-but-all-the-spaces-are-full reputation, I relished the opportunity to relax pre-race, stroll part of the course to see what the hills were like and take some photos before starting my pre-race warm-up and stretching. (Incidentally, the Palio has the best race tee thus far, and the goodie bag--courtesy of The Meat House, one of the race sponsors--was an insulated reusable canvas shopping bag...BOTH KEEPERS!) After my own BTO cover in the ladies' rest room at the Hampton Inn & Suites (where race day check-in was held), I grabbed a course map and a cup of Earl Grey tea and headed up to Broadway with my camera.

Strolling down Broadway with its quaint shops is one of my favorite things to do in my favorite New York State city. The local businesses eventually give way to national chains as you head toward Congress Park, but even the GAP and Eddie Bauer and Banana Republic storefronts were clearly designed and built to look as though they belong in this classic city with its Victorian roots.

Daylight revealed a thick blanket of clouds overhead and I ambled over to Congress Park to share a moment with the ducks (who came right over to me as though I might dare to violate the posted park rules against feeding the waterfowl) and to scope out the section of the park where the 5k would pass through. Congress Park featured the lone significant downhill stretch of the race. There would be a few uphill climbs, none of them particularly daunting, but the last uphill came at the end of the race, ending perhaps 50 yards from the finish line, when I was going to be exhausted.

The Saratoga Palio is actually two races: a 5k and a half-marathon. The race is run in  memory of Saratoga Springs resident and mental health professional  Melanie Merola O'Donnell, and the race funds a scholarship in her name  in the mental health fieldh. They've run the race for about five years  and have gone from a couple hundred runners to about 1,100 today.

Runners amassed on Broadway as the 8AM start time approached. The half marathon would start at the top of the hour, with the 5k starting after that. I had already waited in line at the Hampton Inn for my second (mostly preemptive) potty stop of the morning; good thing, too. There were two pee-pee teepees on Broadway, right next to the starting line. The line stretched almost all the way down the block. I almost wanted to mumble, "suckers..." but the better angels of my nature won out. As the final call was made for the half marathon, the announcer reminded those who were gathered at the start line that this was for the half marathon, not the 5k. "If you're at the starting line, you'll be running more than 13 miles..." We 5k'ers on the sidelines appreciated the reminder.

Once the last of the half marathon runners left the starting line, we mere 5k runners gathered around to begin our own race. I looked around and found it interesting that there seemed to be more half marathoners than 5k'ers today. A thought both interesting and daunting to me.

At the sound of the airhorn, we headed up Broadway, past Congress Park, up a slight incline and, after passing Dunkin Donuts (complete with donut-baking aroma, which seemed rather cruel, even though I'm not a huge fan of donuts in general), we turned left onto Lincoln Avenue. Even though I had reviewed the course pre-race, I have to admit that if someone had quizzed me on it, the best I would have been able to come up with was the final mile of the route through Congress Park, past Ben and Jerry's (far more cruel, that) and up two hills that were, for me at least, significant but thankfully rather brief, before finishing back on Broadway just behind where this all began.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. It seems that the more 5k's I run, the less distinct the details become during the race. So once again, my memories are snapshots of the race. There were a lot of young kids doing their typical "bottle rocket/leisurely stroll" interval racing, a few parents pushing jogging strollers, and a lot of people who slowed to a walk as if to encourage me to pass them. Once again, as with the Dunkin Run, I was running with an "attitude of gratitude" (thank you, Tiffany!) and thanked everyone along the race route. Anywhere there was a spectator with a cowbell, I shouted, "MORE COWBELLLLLLL!!!" and they heeded my call every time.

A 5k typically has one water stop, but since part of our race route was also used for the half marathon, we actually passed two water stops. I suspected that the second water stop was a generous local citizen who had set up the water stop in front of his house. As we approached, just after the two-mile mark, someone's child(ren) had written in chalk on the road, "WELCOME, RUNNERS!" Even though I didn't stop for water at either location, I shouted, "Thank you for the cool chalk signs!"

We headed down toward Circular Street, where we would enter Congress Park. When I thanked the cop at the corner as I ran by, he seemed almost surprised and said, "Have a great day." I shouted back, "Thanks! BE SAFE!" and trotted into the park, where the cinder path and steep downhill awaited me. The runner ahead of me was a woman pushing two children in a jogging stroller. For their safety and hers, she had to slow to a walk, since she might have weighed 130 pounds soaking wet and was at the helm of a heavy-looking stroller with what appeared to be preschoolers in the seats.

As we emerged from the park and headed down Putnam Street, I could feel my legs start to feel genuinely fatigued. I just kept telling myself there was less than a mile to go. I did my best to avert my gaze as we passed Ben & Jerry's, especially since they had the unmitigated gall not to be open at 8:30AM. I realized that I was retracing (in reverse) some of the route I'd run during the Read Run 5k, which was the first 5k in which I actually ran the entire distance. We headed up a slight incline and turned onto Caroline Street for a block, then turned down High Rock Avenue before turning left again onto Lake Avenue. At the High Rock/Lake intersection were two signs: the first read "1/2 M" and pointed straight ahead; the second read "5K" and pointed to the left. I had made note of these signs earlier during my pre-race recon. It's one thing to go off-course; it's something else entirely to go TEN MILES off-course.

Lake Avenue represented the second-to-last incline I would have to run and, for me, it was sufficiently daunting, especially at the tail end of the race. At the time, I rather thought that both of the final hills would be the death of me. I was thrilled when I made the turn onto Maple and kissed the Lake Avenue hill goodbye. One more turn onto Grove Street (although on the hard-copy map, this was listed as something like Edward Jones Street), one last uphill for my tired-ass legs. I was chugging so slowly uphill, I figured any hope of a good time result was pretty much out the window, but there was no way I was going to slow to a walk this close to the finish. Pardon my French, but FUCK NO.

Considering my recent race results, I had set what I thought was a rather ambitious goal for today's race: 35:45. I barely dared to hope to hit 35:15, which would represent a PR. As I got to the top of Grove/E-whatever Jones Street and turned into the finish lane, I saw the clock: 34 minutes. I actually asked someone (no one in particular), "Is that clock right???" (As if someone was going to respond, "Uh, no, it's running a few minutes fast, but just for you.") At this point, even if I had tripped and rolled ass-over-teakettle across the finish line, I would have a PR.

I crossed the finish line around 34:20 (as of this posting, I'm still waiting for Albany Running Exchange to post the results). As I stopped to allow the volunteer to remove the timing chip from my shoe, my legs felt like overcooked linguine and I managed to drop the water bottle being handed to me by a young volunteer. I also got to hear my name announced, which, admittedly, is always kewl.

I wandered along Broadway in dazed disbelief before heading back to the final turn to cheer on the runners behind me. Although all I typically want after a race is a nosh and a nap (in that order), today I was high on the adrenaline buzz and ran a couple of errands on the way home, then changed into my coolio Saratoga Palio long-sleeved technical tee to take the dogs on a nearly two-mile walk and then, of course, to start writing this blog post. Still no nap; not to fear, the Chi's are more than making up for my napping deficit. I'll sing at Mass this evening, then join my dad and sister for our typical Sunday dinner. As usual, I will have salmon and asparagus. And tonight, there will be brie (unless there are Oysters Rockefeller). And there will be wine. Oh, yes. There will be wine. And around 9PM, I'll cuddle with a combined 14 pounds of Chi warmth and sleep the sleep of the just.

By breaking under :35, I have now gone from snail to turtle to opossum to SLOTH!!! Woo-HOOOOOOO!!! I haven't even begun to contemplate what less-pokey mammal will represent sub-:34...

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