I cannot tell you the last time I was nervous before a race, legitimately and horrifyingly nervous. You know what I’m talking about, the good kind where you’re standing there in the thick of your corral looking at everyone stretching, putting on their game faces and sizing up all of the competition. During my soccering (proper footballing) years, I was notorious for being substituted briefly, going to the sideline just out of sight, and puking from sheer nerves. So, as my stomach gnomes broke out the glow sticks, bumped the industrial techno, and began raving on in “The Core” (the baddest club in the land) I was toeing the line of the 34th Cow Harbor 10K in Northport, Long Island hoping to keep my modest breakfast in its appropriate location. If only everyone at the start line knew that was going on I think most people would’ve stood a little further away from me.

A little background and perspective to this morning’s race, number one, this is the first time I’ve raced a 10k in two years, a fact that I had to look up to be certain it was even true. Yep, two years, and the last time I did it was this very same race. Secondly, my 10k PR time was set on this course three years ago with a mark of 38:44 (6:15/mile), which put me 6th in my age group and 74/4183. Thirdly, the course has two notable hills that kinda knock the stuffing out of you a little bit, one leading into mile two and the other right around mile 5, but the finish is fast (Check the course out below). Lastly, having discussed the race with the White She-Devil and reviewing her expectations, aka “our plan”, for the race I got a wee bit intimidated by it all. With all that being said, I felt a considerable amount of pressure given the intensity and volume of the training I’ve been hammering out, my previous finish time, and the expectations of a diminutive and dominating divinity foreseeing furiously fast furry feet the likes of which I have not experienced in some time … so yah, this had all the earmarks of a fantastical and epic panic attack … or, stress induced regurgitation … either way pretty exciting!

As we return to the starting line, the bulk of my energy was being spent trying to ignore those goddamn party monster stomach gnomes and focus on the task at hand. During the week I debated the pros and cons of wearing my Garmin for the race and decided that Lil’ Bastard (yes, that’s its name) had no place on this course and bailed on it. I honestly would not have been able to deal with the 1-mile auto-lap beeping randomly before or after the course mile markers I’d likely pitch a curse-laden tantrum amidst a troop of Boyscout volunteers if it auto-lapped before or after the course mile markers. I wanted a clear head focused on the task at hand without any watch obsession or obnoxious jingling. In correlation with this maneuver I also decided to simplify the race plan to one my brother and I mastered after years of flawless execution during our ridiculous soccering days … the plan, simple: JUST GO! Stop thinking, stop questioning, stop fearing, and JUST GO!!!

When the starting gun fired sending out my wave, just a minute behind the elites, I let myself drift into the middle and then the back of the pack as everyone just gunned it. After the first turn my legs loosened up a little more and then it was go time. We went a small incline, which dipped right into a nice steep, long down hill that far too many of the other runners were hitting the breaks on. After a brief section of flats we reached my favorite part of the race, the hill!!! Now, there are two of them on this course that are just mean and nasty, but the first one is the creme de la creme, big, bold, and beautiful! This thing usually takes the stuffing out of everyone and it almost had me this time as I tried to almost sprint up it. Right at the apex I could feel myself start to cave, but I pumped my arms out, crested, and kept pumping away to maintain my pace and recover. After that, the rest of the race was pretty much a blur where I simply listened to the clock watchers at the mile markers, subtracted my 1-minute, and just kept cranking … that is until the hill that Squatch forgot!

In the last mile and a half or so there is one more hill that is short and a kinda, sorta steep, but not too bad. What makes this hill such a pain is its placement, because you have been hammering out those middle miles and then all of a sudden hit this stunner. It kinda sucked, but it did provide me with the opportunity to catch a few more guys. After we crested these three fine gentlemen and myself went back and forth pushing the pace and coasting, battling for position into the home stretch. Only problem with that was I couldn’t quite remember how far out we were, how fast we were going, or how soon we would get there. I was completely flummoxed. The fact that I hadn’t run that distance as hard as I was at the moment made it seemingly impossible for me to determine what was left. Yep, I may be developmentally disabled … believe it.

Anyway, as I continued to push along with these three gents I finally see the finish line and start to push the pack, one by one watching them fade. Not gonna lie, kind of awesome when it actually happens. About 400m from the finish one of them makes a last ditch effort to pass me, but the second I hear his feet hammering just behind me on my left I put the hammer down and finish it. Fears un-realized. Demons exorcised. PR verified. I clocked in at 37:07 (5:59 pace), 6th in my AG, and 47th overall. I think I achieved the White She-Devil’s seal of approval with that performance, but who can really say, she is quite small. There was one truly interesting moment, a little chest puffing moment if you will, where I was talking to this guy just passed the finish line and he started getting on me that I was definitely in the wrong corral and should’ve started with him and the other elites. Admittedly, I kinda dug that stern talking to. Regardless, I officially broke a barrier I had yet to at a race with that sub-6 paced finish and felt like I still had some speed to burn. Enough reveling in this success, back to the mines and the training plan … I swear, some of the stuff on this thing is designed so White She-Devil can just watch me die slowly. Lots more to come as this quest for the elusive sub-3-hour marathon continues.