Some of the goals that I put on my top 10 list for 2017 were ones that don't sound particularly Crossfit-related. I have a goal of rowing 2,000 meters in 7:15 or less. And I have a goal of running a 5K in 25 minutes or less. If I was finding life in the gym frustrating, that didn't mean I had to stop pursuing some of these small benchmarks that I had set for myself. I could easily go after them outside of KOP. So when I got home on Thursday night, I started looking through some of the e-mails that the Bryn Mawr Racing Company had sent me. I'm on their mailing list because I've participated in the Midsummer Night 5K series in years past. As I looked at the upcoming races they had listed, I saw that there was one in Malvern on Saturday morning called the Good Samaritan 5K. I wasn't all that familiar with where the run was taking place, but it wasn't too long of a drive from my house. I decided to sign up for it and see if I could improve on the 5K I did at the end of April.
I didn't know that this was the inaugural running of the Good Samaritan 5K, but I have to say that they did a really excellent job with this event. It was very well organized. When I arrived at the race location, I saw a bunch of smiling faces. There was lots of upbeat music playing. Everyone looked like they were having fun. I walked over to the registration table and gave my name to one of the volunteers. Usually you have a number assigned to you already, but the lady at the table simply picked up the next numbered bib in the pile (9602), scanned the bar code with a device, and told me I was all set. I also received a pretty nice t-shirt. Sometimes you'll get the t-shirt for these local 5K's and think "when will I ever wear this again?", but I've had good luck with the t-shirts I've gotten at my two races this year. Two for two in the clothing department.
When I showed up for the 5K in April, my back was sore and I had spent a good portion of the day before consuming alcoholic beverages. Somehow I still managed a respectable time and ended up with a medal. There was no sore back to deal with this time around and I had laid off the booze the day before. The only thing not in my favor on this day was that it was considerably warmer, but all other signs were pointing towards an improved time. If I was really lucky, I might just end up with another medal. I was quickly becoming the Michael Phelps of neighborhood fun runs.
After the national anthem was played, it was time to line up for the race. I took my customary position towards the back of the field. I had no idea how fast any of these people were, but I didn't want to be blocking the path of someone who could run much faster than me. We received some final directions about the course and then a horn was blown. A bunch of weekend warriors began to slowly chase the police car in front of them.
Only 4,998 meters to go!
At my last 5K, it felt like I went out too fast because the last mile (or what I assume was the last mile given that there were no checkpoints indicating the end of miles 1 and 2) was agonizing. I was sluggishly trotting along, hoping that I'd see the finish line around the next corner, only to find out that I was trapped in some cruel suburban labyrinth. My plan was to be a little more conservative at the beginning of this run. There were more middle school/high school aged runners in this field and it would have been easy to chase after them as they tore off on the first half mile or so of this race, but I tried to focus on the pace that felt most comfortable to me.
There were no mile markers on this course either, so I didn't have clarity on how far we had gone when I started to reel in those who had pushed a little too hard at the beginning, but I assumed it was right around the mile mark. When you are that far into the race, you start to get an idea of who you will be running with for the next 2 miles or so. There was a gentleman dressed in black who appeared to be around my age that I locked on to. He had been up ahead of me, but I was slowly catching up to him as we ran through the streets of Malvern. Eventually I caught up to him, but he didn't seem keen on letting me go by. We ended up running next to each other for a while before he slowed down to hydrate at a water station on the side of the road.
Right as we passed the water station, a lady yelled out that we were about halfway done. That was helpful, assuming that it was accurate. (I don't think it was accurate.) Up ahead, I could see a right turn and then a prolonged downhill section. Downhills are supposed to be the fun part of these runs, but really they are the areas where everyone goes screaming by me. Then on the uphills, people love to walk and I slowly go by them like The Little Engine That Could. As I hit the long downhill, I tried to lean forward and let gravity do all the work. It didn't seem to help all that much. I could hear the stampede coming. A group of teenagers went sprinting by me. Then the guy in black left me in the dust. Maybe I should have stopped for that water.
The only thing I knew about the course was that there was some ominous hill awaiting us at the 2 mile mark. Someone posted online that you knew there was about a mile left when you got to "the big hill". After completing that downhill, we ran about a quarter-mile and then headed back in the direction we had come from. This was the big hill (or so I thought). I had run two miles in increasingly warm conditions and now I had to deal with this ascent ahead of me. I kept my arms and legs pumping. One by one, I slowly plodded by all those folks who had zipped on by me during the downhill. Yes, they were walking, but I caught them. Let me enjoy my small victories!
As I got to the top of the hill, I saw the guy in black walking. He was wearing earphones, but it sure didn't look like the tunes he was listening to were easing the pain of this hill any. As I passed him, I patted his left shoulder to get his attention. He looked at me and I gave the universal sign for "come on, start running again". The two of us went over the crest of the hill together.
Or did we? After going over what I thought was the top of the hill, we ran along a small curved road before coming to another hill. Another hill??? Or was this the same hill? Why hadn't the guy who left the comment on Facebook been more specific about the big hill at the end? My new pal had opened up a small lead on me during that brief flat portion, but I passed him again as I took on that last incline. When I hit the top of that hill, I began searching for the finish line in earnest. I must have gone another half-mile before I turned on to the road where the finish line was located. I could see it off in the distance, but it looked really far away. The hills and the heat had taken a lot out of me and now it was my turn to consider walking. As I started to slow down, I got a pat on my right shoulder. "Come on, let's finish strong!" The guy I helped get up the hill was returning the favor. It certainly wasn't speedy, but the two of us picked up the pace and passed a few runners as we closed in on the finish line. We crossed the line at basically the same time. 5K chip time: 27:49.
Based on how brutal that last mile was, I knew that I wasn't breaking 25 minutes. I didn't realize I was so far off of my goal, but as I chugged a couple bottles of water while sitting in the grass, it occurred to me that I probably didn't appreciate the effect the heat had on me during the run. In the end, I wasn't bummed about my performance. I kinda liked the fact that two old guys were able to push each other through some tough spots on the course. That made the experience worthwhile.
(Another medal would also have made this experience worthwhile, but I wasn't even close this time. I think I might have to wait two decades again before I win another medal.)
I took rest days on Sunday and Monday. My streak of laziness ended on Tuesday. Was it time for Dudes After Dark? Well no. A buddy of mine was getting married in a couple weeks and the two of us had agreed to attend a mutual friend's spin class before he got hitched. We thought she taught classes a few nights per week, but then we heard her schedule changed and she was only doing Tuesdays. I was headed on vacation at the end of the week, so 6/13 was the last Tuesday before the wedding where I could go to her spin class. I signed up. Did the groom go? Of course not. I will get my revenge on him by making him flip tires one day.
I drove out to Northeast Philly and found the gym where my friend Diana's spin class was taking place. While I was checking in at the front desk, they informed me that I needed to buy a seat cover for the class. (If they only knew what awaited, they would have made me buy a cover for the entire bike.) One of the ladies then escorted me back to the room where the class was. When she brought me in, she said the following to Diana: "Hi Diana, this is Dave, he says he knows you?" The hell? Apparently I looked creepy enough that she was concerned I had made up a story about being friends with the spin coach. Diana laughed and confirmed that she knew me.
The class took place in a small room with about 10-12 bikes in it. In the middle of the room were two bikes that everyone else seemed to be avoiding, so I did as well. I asked if anyone was using the middle bike along the left wall and I was told that it was free. I was the only guy in the group, although one more would show up right before class started. (Okay, I get it. Some guy randomly drops in for a nearly all-female class. The front desk lady was probably right to check on me.)
I was nervous as we got ready to begin. I had only taken one spin class before in my life and that was back in college. The coach of that class was this extremely high energy lady who kept shouting things like "position 1!", "position 2!", and "position 3!". I had no idea what those positions were and because we kept transitioning so fast, I was always one step behind everyone else. I had told Diana in advance about my fears and she assured me that I wouldn't experience the same trauma in her class.
The best part about this spin class? It was taking place in an air-conditioned room. Hell yeah! I had suffered through the ever-present thick humidity within the KOP gym for the last few weeks and this was a welcome reprieve. Diana told us to start pedaling as she darkened the room and uploaded the pop playlist we'd be riding along to over the next 45 minutes. Diana's directions made way more sense than the ones barked at me by that lady from my college days. She would tell us when to ride seated and when to ride standing. She would tell us when to turn the blue knob in front of us to either increase or decrease tension. She also let us know that we would be doing a series of sprints and climbs lasting 30 seconds each initially, before increasing to 45 seconds in the middle of the workout, and topping off at 60 seconds apiece in the last segment.
We pedaled our way through those 30 second segments while Ed Sheeran crooned to us about the Castle On The Hill. As that was happening, a weird thought entered my mind. What if I didn't sweat during this workout? I had warned Diana about how sweaty I was, but she gave me the standard response that it was normal and that she (as well as others in class) would also sweat during these workouts. But maybe I wouldn't have to worry about being so sweaty for once. I had no idea that I'd be getting the benefit of A/C. I began to dream of the end of class, thinking that I'd simply tell everyone thanks for letting me drop in and heading on my way instead of hanging around for 10 minutes to clean up some mess that I'd made. Why couldn't KOP have air conditioning? This was perfect!
Turns out that the air conditioning only delayed the inevitable. By the end of the 30 second section, I could feel droplets falling from my head. As I pedaled like crazy during the 45 second section, the sweating became more constant. When I went all-out during the 60 second section, I was the equivalent of a dog who had just gotten out of the pool. The class ended and the lights came back on. I looked down to see sweat all over the floor and all over my bike. Apparently it ended up on other people's bikes as well. The lady who was on the bike to my right informed me that I should really have shields surrounding me if I was going to take this class again. Thank you for that.
The reason why shields were requested
When I try to explain the level of spiciness that Jenn enjoys in her meals, I always hear people say "I like spicy food too". Then we'll go out and people realize that the inside of Jenn's mouth must be covered with that material that allows the space shuttle to re-enter the atmosphere safely. There's "spicy" and then there is "Jenn spicy". I'm starting to think there is "sweaty" and then there is "Dave sweaty". Diana's spin class understands this phenomenon now.
Wednesday preview: I sneak in one more class at KOP before heading to St. Lucia for a week. Just when I thought I was out, rope climbs pull me back in.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.