St. Peter's Fiesta 5K - June 2011

My second race fell on an off day from work for me; it was to begin at 6:30pm on a Thursday meaning I had all day to think about whether it would be my last or not.  For those of you not wanting to relive the entire story obviously it was not my last as I am still running to this day, but for dramatic effect let’s keep the suspense going.

I had all day to think about the pain in my right knee and left Achilles.  Why did I worry about it being my last race?  Sure, rest would probably have done the trick.  It might have been 6 weeks of rest.  It is easy to keep running, or keep exercising when you get into a pattern; however once you stop for any extended period of time it becomes so much easier to stick to that pattern as well.  I feared that 6 weeks off from running when it was still so new to me would take away my new found passion so I threw caution to the wind.

I began to get myself psyched up for the race before starting the nearly 2 hour drive from Cape Cod up to Gloucester.  The drive and the music I played got my mind off of running and allowed me to enjoy the summer afternoon.  Unfortunately as I got closer to Gloucester the clouds and fog began to roll in.  By the time I parked near the YMCA on Middle Street there was a light drizzle in the air.  I figured this could only hurt my chances of a pain-free run.

I got my bib and shirt from the kind folks at the YMCA.  They allowed me to change down in the locker room.  It was deserted and silent, alone with my thoughts, how fitting.  As I changed I stretched my legs and could feel the pain still there, somehow I thought that maybe race day would provide a miracle.  It did not.  I returned to drop my gym bag at my car and felt sober about my running career.  Before I left to head to the race area I posted a message on my Facebook page thanking my 3 running mentors, my Uncle Steve, Deanna, and Emily, and of course my mother.  I felt as if I was getting ready to retire from running before I even got started.  

The St. Peter’s Fiesta was going on, a celebration of Italian heritage which struck home with me thanks to my heavy Italian descent on my mother’s side of the family.  The crowds were sparse at best thanks to the cool and raw weather.  I tried my best to avoid the carts of sausages, fried dough, and the like, there were a few stationed right at the starting line which seemed more than a coincidence.    

There was a light rain at race time and such a crowd at the starting line; unfortunately it was not organized.  What I mean is that I have since learned at half marathons they have the pace times along the side of the starting line, meaning if you plan on running a 9 minute mile you line up behind that sign.  Here it was everyone for themselves, slow people in front and all.

When the race began it was hard to get going.  I was trotting, trying in vain to get around slower runners and even some with strollers.  The slick road only made things slower.  Finally I was able to break free and turn my engine on.  All I could do was give it my all and hope for the best.  Luckily there was only one hill during the race, which was a plus.  We ended up heading down to the State Fish Pier, around a barrel and back into town.

The cheering crowds along the streets helped me stay focused.  I kept my legs churning but paid attention, like I was waiting for the ‘other shoe’ to drop.  Then through the mist and fog I saw the finish line and more importantly I saw my time.  22:48, 7:22/mi.  I crossed and caught my breath.  I grabbed a pair of bananas and a bottle of water before sitting on the sidewalk and taking stock of my body and how I felt.  Sure my legs were tired from running all out but there didn’t seem to be any new damage which was what I had been dreading.

I smiled and people watched as I recovered.  With all of the pain and uncertainty going into the race I had shaved a minute and a half off of my previous 5K time.  To top it off I had no injured myself worse so I knew that my running career was not over after 2 races.  I did not stick around very long after finishing.  I had to work the next morning and still had a 2 hour drive home, plus I was hungry too.

I returned to the YMCA to shower and encountered a bit of a problem.  There was a line of guys waiting to use the showers.  I had been in the locker room and counted only 3 showers, using some rough math I was looking at probably an hour wait for a shower.  Yeah, I decided that I would drive home in my running clothes since I was alone I would not be offending anybody with my old gym socks scent!

I made sure to send a follow up post to Facebook letting everyone know that not only had I survived the St. Peter’s Fiesta 5K, I had run a great race.  I was still on my runner’s high all the way down the North Shore.  I remember having to stop and get gas before I hit Boston.  I was so hungry that I bought a big back of Jack’s Links Beef Jerky and ate it one-handed while I drove. 

I knew that I was going to have to rest up my injuries after the race but it was comforting knowing that rest would solve my problems.  I had been so close to having to give up my new found passion, but I was lucky.

Have any of you come close to having to quit running?  Have any of you gone into a race expecting it to be your last, or even expecting to aggravate injuries?  Or would you have been smarter and postponed your next race until you healed?  Maybe I just enjoy the dramatic moments.      

I used the arrow to point me out in the crowd.

That was how I prepared before the race.

Looking to The Man at the Wheel for inspiration.

Impossible Is Nothing - St. Peter's Fiesta 5K, Gloucester, Mass.

            Impossible Is Nothing Part 2: St. Peter's Fiesta 5K  by Christopher Setterlund

     For my second 5K in my racing career I decided to take a trip to my favorite town, Gloucester.  Getting the chance to continue my running adventure in the place that I have enjoyed more than any other thus far made it an opportunity I could not pass up.  My first race was for CapeAbilities, this one was for the North Shore YMCA.  The fact that the St. Peter’s Fiesta was going on at the same time only made it more appealing for me.  I had been asked to cover the yearly festival last year but was unable to find the time on short notice.  This year I had at least one day to check it out.

            Unfortunately the weather was overcast and rainy for the race day which made exploring the Fiesta not as appealing.  I did get to see a lot of rides and food booths when I visited the starting line some four hours before race time.  The food was tempting but I know now what I can and cannot eat before a race and that included pretty much everything the carnival atmosphere offered.  I was able to fully enjoy the afternoon in Gloucester despite the weather by visiting a few of my favorite spots.  They include The Man at the Wheel, Stage Fort Park, Hammond Castle, and Eastern Point Light, but those can be found in my In My Footsteps articles featuring Gloucester.

This became more than just another run for me as the time went on.  I had to face my own demons about whether it might be my last race already thanks to a few nagging injuries.  I had begun running in the end of March and had taken to it much better than I had expected.  My mileage continued to increase but I kept in mind that I only needed to be able to do about 5-6 miles to complete a 5K which is 3.1 miles.  That kept my head in the game as far as training went. 

This time I became much more cavalier about how I trained as the runner’s high seemed to be calling the shots.  I went from a high of 7 miles at the time of the first 5K May 14^th to a high of 13.1(half marathon distance) on June 1^st.  That rapid increase in distance, coupled with not giving myself enough time to recover, and a lack of leg training made my legs feel weak and tired all the time.  My runs became more labored but I did not want to turn back after making it so far so I kept these problems to myself.

I had and still have some pain today in my left knee and right Achilles tendon but this became more than just a 5K for me because of my mother.  She fought so hard to quit smoking and wanted to be a part of the running ‘tradition’ that our family has been starting to build.  She got hurt and has had to be sidelined since and I wanted to make sure that I at least made this race to honor her for what she has done and is doing.

As the day of the race arrived I had this feeling in my gut that maybe it was going to be my final race.  I felt like maybe the injuries I had were going to break me as I ran and it was going to be too much.  I made sure as I stretched feverishly in the drizzle near the starting line that I made a note of where the First Aid station was just in case.  I stood by myself and soaked in the scene, wanting to remember as many faces and events if this was to be my last real run of my burgeoning career.

I made the mistake of soaking in too much of the atmosphere when the race began as I started not on the road but against an iron fence behind several walkers, strollers, and slow people.  Not a good start as I had to dodge up onto the sidewalk to avoid them.  I began my run with my usual song, ‘The Game’ which is the entrance music for WWE wrestler Triple-H, it always gets me pumped.  I admit that I held back some, fearing a tear in my Achilles or a knee ligament, plus the rain began falling too and the course had a few good hills.  I was prepared to have a slower time than the 24:28 I did in my initial run for CapeAbilities. 

The run was awesome, the scenery was amazing despite the rain.  Gloucester is a place I could visit every weekend if I possibly could, so getting to run there was an experience all its own.  I started to sense the end coming and pushed as best I could.  I put on ‘Cowboys From Hell’ by Pantera, a song used by my running mentor to get her going, it was as if suddenly she was pushing me toward the Finish Line, the pain and soreness in my legs vanished and I let it all hang out.  Once I saw the official time in the distance I knew that I had beaten my first race time by nearly two whole minutes and my legs after running, while still hurting, would heal if I gave them time and my running career would continue.

In the end my belief in myself was tested but I came out a bigger believer after.  My confidence was shaken but my resolve to never quit, to show everyone that my running career is not a fad, helped push me through.  Finally, I may have been alone up in Gloucester but I was buoyed by the knowledge that I had the support of so many friends and loved ones.  I wanted to make them all proud and I believe I did.  This is not the end, but only the beginning!  Cheers!

47 - 3/29/11 - Marshside Storytime X

Initial Impressions

Christopher Setterlund

47 – 3/29/11

Marshside Storytime X – Two Odd Couples

            It is with a bit of a heavy heart that I share the latest installment of Marsh Storytime.  Today’s story has to do with a pair of odd couples.  They were two sets of old men that made for some of the funniest reality television before there was reality television.  Joe and Joe, and Bill and Jay, their relationships and interactions helped make the old Marsh such a great place to work.

            Jay and Bill were the early morning guys, Bill sat at the counter and jay was part of the famous Table 13 crew of old men.  Jay was always there by 7am to fill all of the bird feeders.  He would come inside and we would chat about baseball, his preference was always the Brewster White Caps of the Cape League.  Jay was very soft spoken he also enjoyed starting the coffee for the waitresses before they came in.  He was a class guy.

            Bill was also a class guy, but his personality was quite a bit different.  He would come in loud and proud like a hurricane.  I think he worked in construction in his younger days because he was still a big guy in his early 70’s.  It always made me laugh to hear him come in through the back door to the kitchen before we opened cussing and swearing about whatever was going on.  I’d be putting bacon in the old pizza over and Bill and Jay would be on the other side of the line talking.  Jay speaking softly, Bill yelling about how the girls didn’t need his help with the coffee, it is making me smile right now thinking about it.

            The other odd couple, Joe and Joe, Mahoney and Capachione.  They would both sit at the end of the counter usually between 9:30 and 10:30 everyday.  I always remembered Joey Cap sitting right in the perfect spot where I could see him through the window of the door.  He would wave and motion for me to come out and say hi even when it was so busy that I barely had time to think.

            Of course I always found time to go out and Joey Cap would greet me with his usual ‘Hey boy!’  It made me smile, but then Joe Mahoney would start in to make the whole scene better.  He would yell at Joey Cap ‘He’s got a name, it’s not boy!’  Joey Cap would ask me ‘You don’t mind if I call you boy, do you boy?’  I always said I didn’t mind.  He’d then ask about my Dad, Jack, how he was doing.  Joe Mahoney would rag on Joey Cap for being Italian which would get me to mention that I was Italian as well.  He would then say ‘Yeah but it’s different with this guy,’ pointing at Joey Cap.

            The best part of the morning reality shows would be the time when Joey Cap would start to get up from the counter saying he had to go check his mail at the post office.  Mahoney would yell at him to sit down, that he really didn’t have anywhere to go.  His classic line was always ‘Sit down, I have to talk to you.’

            As I am writing this I realize just how much I enjoyed those times and those people.  Only now as it actually hurts to think of those who have passed on do I understand.  Each day it was the same thing and looking back I am so glad that I got to be a part of it.  I got more than ten years of knowing these regular morning folks that created the atmosphere of family that the old Marsh had.  I still remember after the old Marsh closed going to Grumpy’s with Meg to visit the old counter crew one last time.  It was a fitting curtain call on a time that most restaurants wish they could produce.

            So tonight I will raise a glass in memory of Jay Gordon.  You were a good man, a gentle man.  And I will raise a glass again in memory of Joey Cap.  You always made me laugh and made rough mornings fun with your personality.  As we Italians would say ‘Riposi in Pace.’  I was blessed to know you both, thank you for the memories.