Pequot Runners 5 Mile Turkey Trot

It could be that this was almost an official first anniversary that kept me awake. Or it could be that I still just have not learned how to sleep the night before a race. Before the Indy Half Marathon, I woke up in cold sweats numerous times in a friends spare bedroom and felt as though I owed them new sheets afterward. Before the Philly Distance Run, in the bed I slept in growing up, I barely slept three hours. And before the 31st Annual Pequot Runners 5 mile Turkey Trot, 3 hours was the max I slept as well.

This was the first "repeat" race that I have done in the 14 months that I've actually been running races. And I knew I would beat last years time. Last year, the 5 miles took me 39:43 to finish, as I succumbed to a nasty side stitch in the final quarter mile and walked 100 meters. This year, as if to prove to myself that wouldn't happen again I ran a 4 mile tempo run the afternoon before with a recurring side stitch in under 28. Fantastic. There was no doubt, barring a travesty that I would beat last years time. Still, I was aiming higher as I wanted sub 35.

I got to the race a good 75 minutes before hand. I knew from last year that this was a race that was very congested in the first mile to mile and a half. 3000 Runners down a narrow Southport CT street would do that to ya. As I got to the start line a 1/2 hour before hand I looked around and noticed at the start there would still be at least 200 runners to weave through and around the first mile. This was before the bagpipes came through the crowd. A Pequot Turkey trot tradition. The pipers part the crowd like the red sea, and the opening allows more people to elbow there way forward closer to the start. No matter, this was all expected.

As the gun went off the crowd moved even slower than expected though. It took me close to 20 seconds to get the 10-15 yards to the start line. And after that we were at a walking pace. Suddenly I found myself irritated. I found myself elbowing my way into and through conversating runners, clipping on heels, and running up onto sidewalks and through perfectly manicured yards just to get around a few people. My lateral movement in and around crowds may have added a tenth of a mile. I looked like Frogger, maybe a drunk frogger.

Coming up on one mile I knew I was slower than I wanted to be, but I wasn't sure how slow. I had a watch on, but I couldn't remember if I hit start before the start, or at the start, so I didn't even bother looking. When the lady shouted out 7:4x as I passed I thought, "Shit, that leaves some work to do."

I also thought I could still go sub 35, it would just really hurt the whole way. I thought about my 4 mile tempo run on Wed, and attempted to convince myself I had it in me. At one mile was the largest hill of the course, and I wasn't affected at all. I found this encouraging. What I wasn't encouraged. by was another side stitch. Screw it, I was prepared for this to hurt anyway.

Between miles 1-3 I found myself tracking behind, and periodically ahead of some ridiculously fit early college cross country running girl. There would be times I would surge around a group and then glance to my side and she wasn't there. 10 seconds later, I'd see her back in front of me. I was guessing we were both running sub 7 splits and was sure that I didn't want to let her beat me. Any time I saw a slight surge from her to pass me, I would attempt to surge back not wanting to let her get ahead. This cat and mouse game had me pass a water stop without seeking a cup, but I figured I would choke on it anyway or it would bring a side stich so no big loss.

Somewhere between miles 3-4 I lost my cross country sweetheart and was now back along long island sound just before heading into the final mile of the race. In the back of my mind briefly was last year when I stopped to walk off a side stitch. But only briefly. As we passed by mile marker 4 I heard the person shout out 28:2x. Not knowing exactly how long it took me to get to the start, I still thought sub 35 was in my reach. I definitely was tiring as I had run three straight sub 7's to get to that position, but was telling myself, "just 2 more intervals and you are done..." trying to break down this last mile.

Again I found myself side by side with some one about 10 years younger than me with some XC singlet on. Again I found myself trading surges on and off with this person. As we passed by the start line, about 1/4 mile from the finish, he laid down a surge I couldn't match. Within seconds he was 15-20 meters clear. Fuckin a.

Still I found myself thinking just get through the next 200 meters, then a slight left turn into a downhill finish the final 150-200 meters. And as I was approaching that turn, the girl I was trading surges with in miles 1-3 passed me. No way was I gonna let that happen. Between the anger about that and the want to be sub 35, I was letting anything I had left out in that final 200. As I moved towards the finish, I didn't even glance at the clock, not wanting to break momentum. Once over the timing pad and into the chute, I stopped my watch and looked down. 35:18. I knew my time was quicker, I just didn't know how much.

When I finally saw the official results, 35:06 I was honestly a bit disappointed. Disappointed, because I know I had sub 35 in me. Possible sub 34:30 on that day. But as the disappointment faded I have become a little happier with the race. I didn't allow myself to be discouraged or frustrated by the first mile. I found myself more attacking the course rather than I was reacting to the pace of those around me. And the small sort of comical thought of being over 4 minutes quicker than last year.

More though I found myself oddly encouraged by my disappointment. That though I set a PR for myself in 5 mile race, I know I can do better and wasn't only satisfied with that PR. Regardless, I am looking forward to racing it again next thanksgiving, perhaps even taking another 4 minutes off my time!