Good Weather and Good Health Does Not Always Make For A Good Race

The 2012 St. Peter’s Fiesta Road Race was the first event that I had done for a second year.  For those of you not familiar with my 2011 race in Gloucester, Massachusetts I can sum it up pretty quickly.  I went into it with a painful right Achilles and Runner’s Knee in my left knee.  It was also cloudy, rainy, and raw in late-June.  I ran the 5K in 22:48 and was happy with the time all things considered.

This year was to be totally different.  Another full year of running under my belt, no injuries, and a sunny evening to run the race.  It all set up for a great time, or so I thought.

I arrived in Gloucester a few hours early as I did last year.  I love the historic fishing village and enjoy taking in my favorite sites as a way to keep my mind clear before running.  I visited The Man at the Wheel statue, Stage Fort Park, and Hammond Castle.  There was a farmer’s market at Stage Fort Park and I was tempted to buy some veggies and wine but then realized that there would be several hours where my purchases sat in my hot car so I decided against it.  After sight-seeing I hit the YMCA.  There I got my number and t-shirt and changed in the locker room.  I was all by myself after the last man left the pool and vacated the locker room.  It gave me time to think about where I came from and where I was going as a runner.  I tend to get philosophical before and after races.

I got down to the starting line nearly an hour early as I like to do.  I enjoy easing my way through my stretches while getting amped up with my music.  The St. Peter’s Fiesta, celebrating Italian Heritage, was in full swing.  Last year with the rain the carnival was pretty much closed so I wandered around empty food stands and rides.  This year people were everywhere and the smell of sausages and fried dough made it difficult at times to focus. 

I stretched up on the bleachers and then down by the water.  As I tend to do before races I needed to thank my best friend Emily, since it was she who finally convinced me to start running in March 2011.  She was actually running outside at the same time back on Cape Cod, it was sort of fitting.

I got set at the starting line, I chose the 8 minute mile marker to plant myself.  With hundreds of people lined up on the road you’d think that drivers would avoid the road, well you’d be mistaken.  One car full of complete idiots decided to drive straight through all of us, beeping their horn to get people to move.  They ended up being lucky that all of us didn’t decide to just tip their car over. 

Back to the actual race and the minute markers.  You’d think other people would pay attention to those and choose their starting point accordingly but no.  The horn sounds and there’s a gaggle of slow pokes clogging up the road in front of me.  I was walking, bouncing, trotting, and finally busting out in an angry sprint up onto the sidewalk and past those folks.

I was using my Uncle Steve’s Garmin GPS watch which I kept checking my pace on.  Through 2 miles I was consistently 6:45-6:50.  Then I began to notice that the sun made this race hotter and more humid than last year.  I was gassing out and having difficulty catching my breath which naturally made me slow down.  In the sun, heat, and humidity I noticed the hills that the course held.  It was a beautiful run in my favorite town but as far as the overall result it was not there.

Despite being tired I managed to finish in 22:57.  Not quite where I wanted to be, I had hoped the weather and my good health would result in a sub-22 minute run.  I was pouring sweat and chugged a pair of Gatorades and a few bananas.  My only saving grace was that despite my less than stellar time I did not come out of the race with any injuries.  As with the year before I didn’t stick around too long after the race.  I didn’t win any awards and had a 2-hour drive home with work early the next morning so I got a jump on any other people leaving.

As I gazed upon the incredible sunset driving home along Rt. 128 I barely had time to think of what I could have done better in this race.  I had scheduled a second race 5 days later and had to prepare for that one.  I may not have set a personal best at the 2012 St. Peter’s Fiesta Road Race but there’s always 2013, I will be back for my 3^rd try then.
Have any of you runners ever had a race with perfect weather where you felt great but the results just didn't happen?

The t-shirt logo

The Man at the Wheel Statue

One of the views at Hammond Castle

Not too happy with the sea of slow people who planted themselves ahead of me.

When the Worst Week Becomes the Best Week

After the St. Peter’s Fiesta 5K I began the task of recovering from my Jumper’s Knee and sore left Achilles.  It was the heat of summer but I tended to run inside more.  My reasoning was that if any sort of re-injury happened I was at the gym and could simply step off the treadmill and leave. 

I had found a way to ‘cheat’ my way back to training while also healing.  It was by using a very slow ‘burn.’  I began with a very slow 5mph jog, upping the speed .1 every minute or so.  Once I got to 6mph I upped it .1 every 2 minutes.  By the time I hit 7mph, right about where I liked to run I had been on the treadmill usually about 20 minutes and my legs were warmed up.  It worked and I noticed the pain lessening despite still running.

Gradually I worked my way back outside, which included a 5 mile run in 90 degree heat and humidity.  I got home and thought I might have gotten some color when in reality I was a deep shade of purple from being close to heat exhaustion.  I survived that run and with my confidence returning I was asked to run the Irish Pub Race in Harwich, a 5.2-mile race.  Of course I accepted.

There was not a lot of time to do any sort of specific training for the race.  There were a lot of people crammed in the area along the Herring River on race day but I was still able to find a spot to stretch and think by myself.  I knew that my friend James, known as Tuna then, J-Bone now, was running the race as well but I did not go out of my way to find him.  Once I get in my zone before a race I hate to be bothered.  Is anyone else like that?

The early-August morning was overcast, temps in the upper-70’s, and humid.  Not wanting to sweat in my eyes I wore a thin white skull cap to keep the sweat at bay.  I started the 5-mile race fast, a problem I am still having trouble overcoming.  It can be difficult to pace yourself when the rush of the starting gun takes over.

I took off and was enjoying a good run through some hilly roads.  About 2 miles in I began to get hot.  The skull cap keeping the sweat from my eyes also kept the heat from escaping.  I began to overheat and found myself slowed almost to a stop nearly 3 miles in.  Now, not having the proper equipment I had no idea as to what my time was at that moment.  My goal had been to finish the 5.2 miles in 40 minutes. 

Despite being overheated and gassed from starting so quickly I continued onto the finish.  I completed the race in 42 minutes, a good time no doubt, but disappointing for my harshest critic: myself.  I felt like I had sabotaged myself by wearing the skull cap and starting the race so fast.   I shared a beer with my friend James inside the Irish Pub once he finished the race but in the back of my mind all I could think about was the dreaded ‘what if’s.’  I hate ‘what if’s.’

Once I got home I put the Irish Pub Race to bed and looked for another race to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.  Everyone kept telling me that I ran a good race but it was of no consequence.  Luckily I found another race only 5 days later.  I signed up and prepared for what I hoped would be a sort of redemption.  The Old Home Week Race in Centerville was only a 3-mile run, I did not run in between the races so that my legs would be as fresh as possible.

This race was the first time that my mother got to see me run.  She came along with my Aunt Kelly and cousin Keith who had already become the prodigy as far as running in the family before finishing high school.  I had hoped that my good friend, and running mentor, Emily could have been there to run with me but she did wish me good luck in a text.  I politely said my goodbyes to my mom and aunt and went off to the end of the beach parking lot where the race started and finished.  I needed to get into my Beast Mode.  I began to stretch using the sand dunes to my advantage.  It was during this time that I noticed for the first time in nearly 2 months I had no pain at all in either leg.  My Jumper’s Knee was healed finally.  This coupled with my own desire to get ‘redemption’ for my self-proclaimed ‘poor race’ made me realize this was going to be a hell of a race.

I could barely contain myself at the starting line and when the gun sounded I let it all hang out.  My cousin Keith was gone out of sight pretty fast, but this was not about winning for me.  This was about beating myself, putting to bed the Irish Pub Race, and leaving every ounce of energy on those roads.

It was lucky for me that the race was in the late afternoon, I was pouring sweat but the wind off the ocean kept me from overheating.  It was all falling into place.  Has anyone had a race where every single thing goes right?  That was what the Old Home Week Race was for me.  I approached the home stretch, my legs were tired but not in pain.  I kept chugging along waving to my mother and aunt as I approached the finish line.

I laid it all out there as I made my final push.  Much to my surprise, and to put a capper on an almost perfect race, there was Emily at the finish line.  She had made the 15 minute drive from Yarmouth to Centerville and cheered as I crossed the finish line.  I had finished in 21:34, 7:11/mi. 

First I dropped in exhaustion then I let out a nice profanity-laced rant expressing my happiness at my redemption.  Needless to say my mother was not thrilled with my ‘colorful’ language, but it was a primal release for me.  I had never felt as good as I did at that moment after feeling so low only a few days before.  There was no pain after running, only the complete exhilarating exhaustion that comes from knowing you did your absolute best.  For the record my cousin Keith finished 2^nd overall, finishing in a sparkling 17:14, 5:45/mi.

I had done what I had set out to do and with my 3^rd and 4^th races down I knew that there was only one thing for me to do.  I needed to step it up and try my hand at my first Half Marathon.  Have any of you ever run what you feel to be a ‘perfect race?’  Have any of you been motivated to sign up for another race quickly after running a poor one?

Off in the dunes at Covell Beach where I got into Beast Mode

Waiting at the starting line in Centerville.

In the midst of my profanity-laced celebration, mom was so proud of the race, not my language.

Getting ready to go.

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!