A Virtual 3K

I missed my second Tidal Basin 3K in a row this month, due to a meeting I was summoned to at 11:30 a week ago last Wednesday. The race, run the 3rd Wednesday of every month, starts at noon over two miles from my workplace. Before last month, I had run in 98 out of the last 108 races.

The race has changed for me though, as some people who regularly run it blame me, as president, for my club ending its sponsorship this year of the forty five year old race. A new association was formed to run the race, which is problematic because it's run on Park Service land and it is unpermitted. There are problems when the wrong Park Ranger shows up and wants to take names and lay down the law about groups over 25 persons gathering for any purpose there (I don't know how tour buses get away with letting their passengers out for a short hike). This is infrequent, however. I don't feel welcome running the race, even though I personally contributed $50 to the association to help it get started.

Anyway, the next morning I decided to do a fast short run by doing what used to be my staple run, a 2.5 mile run to the schoolhouse up the street and back. In olden times I did this run at breakneck speed five mornings a week, 12.5 miles every week. I'd be done with my daily exercise before the coffee finished brewing. It kept me sleek and fast, but I didn't have much base.

Now I run in groups and do around 25 miles each week. I have a base but I'm much less sleek and far slower. Hmmm.

Outbound there's a hill that's a third of a mile long. I can tell I'm on track if I get to the turnaround a mile and a quarter out in under ten minutes, which is an 8:00 m/m pace.

This particular morning I labored going up the hill and I passed the mile marker at 8:20. I hit the turnaround at 10:20 and wondered if I could return in 9:19. I couldn't. I ran up to my driveway at 20:12 (8:05), for a return trip of 9:52. If I had been doing a virtual 3K race, my time for 1.86 miles would have been 15:04.

The coffee was ready by the time I got back.

Thwarted

I felt betrayed. The display on the bike rack read, "Temporarily closed for system servicing. Please come back later."

I didn't have "later." The monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K Run, held the third Wednesday of every month, was going to start in 10 minutes. And it was two miles away.

I wasn't going to make it. This was going to be only the tenth one that I have missed in the last hundred months.

I have a new system for attending this run which is two and a half miles from my work, to cut down the time I am away from the office when it is held. I used to jog there, run the race, and jog back. It was time consuming.

Lately I have been jogging over to Judiciary Square and picking up a SmartBike (100 bikes scattered about the city at 10 bike racks that members can use for free anytime during the day). Then I bicycle the rest of the way, and bicycle back after the race. It saves a lot of time. I have come to depend upon this method of getting there, and now leave my office for the race at a quarter to noon instead of at 11:30.

But the SmartBike.DC system was down, and I was stuck. I couldn't get a bike out of the locked rack, although there were seven candy-colored beauties there tantalizing me. Just when you start to count on something . . . . .

Runners are resilient though, right? I figured out a 3K route in my head that travelled up Capitol Hill for a little hillwork thrown in and took off at noon for a virtual 3K race. I wound up 14:54 (8:02) later at Union Station where I bought lunch and walked with it the two blocks back to my office, arriving back at work at 12:20.

Later when I plotted out the route I had run on g-maps, I saw it was a little short of 3K, 1.8 miles instead of 1.86 miles. But the real race doesn't have a big hill like Capitol Hill in it.

A slow Tidal Basin 3K run.

Yesterday was a special running of the monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K run, a July 4th holiday version that featured a 9 a.m. start, a 3K run, a 6K run and a 10K run, all in the same race. I was one of two officials at the finish line and it was confusing with people coming and going. The start was strange too, with racers lined up facing three different directions, all to accommodate the varying distances and enable everyone to finish in the same place.

If I had started with everyone else I would have placed in the 3K and gotten my name in the Washington Post as one of the top three finishers. I normally come in around 14:00 and the third place runner in the 3K was over 20 minutes. As it was, my official time for the 3K was 1:49:29 (58:44). That’s pretty slow. I was tied for DFL, three quarters of an hour behind the last 10K finisher.

The race director and I didn’t start running, though, until after the last of the other runners came in. Then we all had cake to celebrate a participant's 60th birthday, and after all the party-goers finally left, the RD and I ran the 3K course. We had left the race clock on so we’d get an “official” time.

We made our loop together in 14:44 (7:54) and punched the race clock out at 1:49. The race director was being nice to finish with me as he could have beaten me handily. But hey, we broke 1:50. I love breaking 1:50 in the 3K.

It was fun. And no, Dan didn’t show up for lunch today. The meal at the Lost Dog Café in North Arlington was delicious though, try the Polynesian Pizza if you ever go there. Hey Dan, let's do Labor Day!

Race Politics

You might know that I am president of my running club. I have been on the job for four weeks now and I am exhausted.

Last night I attended a 2-hour meeting with our ten-mile training group committee. And fielded a call at 10 p.m. from a director informing me that the scheduled club race next week doesn't have a race director yet, so no work has been done on it like getting any permits or volunteers. That will be today's fire-dousing.

Wednesday night I attended a 90-minute meeting with a local race director and our training program director. And spent an hour composing a letter I sent to another club president decrying his club's arbitrary large increase in racing fees which some of our club members have complained about.

Tuesday night I attended a two-hour meeting of our club's 20-mile race committee. And spoke for 30 minutes with a club director about a club member's request for expenses in attending a race championship event in another state.

In this conversation I found myself explaining why I had used red headings to embolden the important points in a president's message I had posted on our website, which in itself took me 45 minutes to compose. Some computer savvy persons in the club, whom I am finding to be hyper critical and very intolerant of (older) persons who are not facile with technology, were lighting up their email chains with how stupid they thought this looked. I think the more polite comments went something like, Is he gonna use pink bolding the next time? The "problem" was resolved by some unknown computer savvy person just going in and removing the colored font when I didn't act upon their stinging criticism. What are you gonna do?

Sunday and Monday, aside from some light email checking and replies, I had two days off from club business.

Saturday I met with a couple of club VPs after the Saturday Long Run for a 90 minute strategy session. And so it goes. (Right: Having SmartBiked to a running store in the District early one morning last week for a scheduled meeting involving club business, I waited with club official Sasha (on the right) for a locally prominent businessman to arrive. Frequent meetings have taken up a lot of my time since I became club president on May 1st.)

Wednesday of last week I ran in the monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K Race, normally an event I enjoy doing. You know, the race I have run practically every month since May, 2001, the monthly race that has been run unabated since the early 70s.

There was nothing much different in my effort, 13:43 (7:22), nor the outcome, bottom 30%, except that a woman beat me who had never beaten me before. For the first time, I rode the 2.5 miles to the race's starting point from my workplace on a SmartBike, saving lots of transit time.

The race has been directed for the past decade by a friend of mine who is a club member very active in running affairs. This fellow is prominent within my club, and many people have an opinion about him. Issues relating at least tangentially to him have consumed a significant portion of my time as club president. I think it's true that a club official can spend 90% of his time dealing with issues impacting 10% of the persons in the club.

At the interminably long and fractious board meeting I "ran" in the very first week of my tenure (what an eye-opener and learning experience that was!), the Board voted to terminate the club's long-standing sponsorship of this very old and venerable race, for some very good reasons that I won't get into here. It fell upon me to inform the race director, my friend, of this. He took it well and came up with several creative approaches to keep the race going in it's current form. It chilled our friendship though.

The race director held a pow-wow with the assembled runners minutes before the race to discuss the recent events and possible solutions. I found myself speaking in an impromptu manner to a group of angry 3K racers when the race director thrust a microphone into my hand and said I'd explain the club's position. For a couple of minutes I got to practice the art of political speaking as I understand it, Speak but say absolutely nothing.

I think I did that part okay, because I haven't heard any attributions or lingering recriminations about the club's action since then. This being president is not as much fun as you might think.

No, no, no.

I recently ran the monthly running of the noontime Tidal Basin 3K. I've done over 90 of these races and this one was the most interesting by far.

You might know that I was recently elected president of my running club. Suddenly people come up to talk to me now, who never seemed to notice me before. Usually they want something. A president of another club I spoke with recently advised me to learn how to say "No." No, no, no.

This 3K race kicked off in the rain. I set off and as usual, another club member, a friend of mine who is faster than me, came up on me at about the quarter mile mark. But he didn't sweep by and steadily get ahead of me, as usual. No, no, no.

He fell in beside me and started talking to me. Now, I like to be social when I run. I talk to lots of people (except for those antisocial types wearing headphones).

But this friend wanted something from me, or rather, from the club. I won't get into what it was but there was nothing improper about his request (you can always ask). It's just that he wasn't going to get it. But he had plenty of time to make his case. Did I mention that he's faster than me?

As we ran side by side for long minutes while he went on about how the club could benefit from the synergies he could bring to it through this or that skill that he possessed, I ratcheted up my pace to my top speed, hoping that I could run away from him and save the conversation for later when I could concentrate. No dice, he just loped along, chatting me up easily.

I answered in one word gasps. I listened carefully, to make sure I didn't reflexively say, "Uh-huh" at an inauspicious moment. This was very taxing, both physically and mentally. I couldn't let this old familiar race just flow, as usual.

Whenever I took a straight line through the curves I had to dip behind him or else bang into him because he took the curves without cutting the corners. Once I left the sidewalk to cut across the roadway towards a far curve and we did collide and almost fell. It was nerve wracking.

With a quarter mile to go he lit out and finished many seconds ahead of me as usual. I breathed, or rather gasped, a sigh of relief as he left me behind.

Later when he said that he took my non-committal reticence to be a "No," I didn't dispute his perception. He imparted some wisdom then, saying, "I always say that you didn't ask a question if you won't accept no for the answer." No, no, no.

13:56 (7:29), 21/32, bottom third, a terrible race. It felt like I was a prisoner being escorted.

"Tidal Basin 3K."

First mile:

[Heavy footfalls.]

"Hey."

"Hey."

"The race director said you're the volunteer coordinator for Saturday's National Marathon?"

"Yes."

What's your name?"

"Gail."

"I'm Peter. You must have a lot to do, with the race being in three days."

"The secret is to get other people to do the work."

"You done a 3K before?"

"No. I've been training to do a marathon, and everyone is going so fast in this race."

"It's a fast race alright. Good luck to you. I'll see you at the finish."

"Good luck to you too."

Second mile:

[Steady footfalls.]

"Hey again."

"Hi Peter. Finish just up ahead?"

"Yes, about a quarter mile. Your endurance training is showing. I thought I left you behind, but I heard you come up on me nice and steady this last straightaway. You're looking good."

"I got my wind."

"I've lost mine. There's two women further up ahead, but they're way up there. Good luck."

[More footfalls.]

"Well hello again. I thought you said you lost your wind, Peter."

"Gotta try. You're about my age. You can do it, I can do it."

"All right then. Good luck to you."

[Footfalls again.]

"Hey again. No good, I'm all done."

"You're doing fine, Peter. Just bring it in. "

Finish area:

"Congratulations, Gail. I did a 13:55. Thanks for pulling me in. How'd you do?"

"I was just ahead of you. About four seconds, I guess. Third woman."

"This is a humbling race. 7:28 pace, and 32nd out of 38 men. Now it's two and a half miles back to work. See ya."

"Bye."

Wednesday's Race

I jogged down to yesterday’s downtown noontime 3K race around the Tidal Basin in the rain. At least it had stopped snowing.

A small band of hardy runners was there. A Parks Policewoman stopped by in her cruiser to hurry us along in our dispersal so that a gathering which didn’t have a permit didn’t tarry too long on federal parks land. The Race Director hurried over to speak with her, and made sure that nobody left any sweatshirts or fanny packs lying about for the quarter hour we’d be gone while we ran around the Tidal Basin. Suspicious packages, you know.

Off we set in the gloom. Peter, who is about my speed and age, got away from me quickly at the start and I didn’t expect to see him again. Running along the Tidal Basin, the water was gray and choppy. The Jefferson Memorial across the way was partially obscured in the cold mist.

Although he is faster than me, I stayed ahead of the Race Director this race, as he had run a 3:25 marathon only three days earlier. He was never far behind though.

I tried to sprint down the 100 meter highway bridge over a northern arm of the water. I tried to power up the short hill just beyond, which runs past the Tulip Library at the 1K mark. I imagined the bulbs sleeping underground, just starting to stir with the end of winter beckoning. Both attempts at shaking up my race effort midway through were only moderately successful.

There was none of the usual jockeying for position around me in this particular race, which would count only 23 finishers. Normally a steady stream of half a dozen familiar runners goes by me after the starting line crowd has sorted itself out.

I set my sights on the runner ahead and gradually pulled close. He surged. I pulled close again and passed him at the 2K mark, behind the Jefferson Memorial.

Up ahead was Peter, coming back to me slightly. On the last uphill, the bridge over the Potomac inlet, I drew to within ten yards of him. That was as good as it was going to get. Peter increased the distance between us steadily on the long finishing straightaway and finished eight seconds ahead.

I pushed hard at the end to beat 14 minutes, finishing in 13:50 (7:25). I was 13th overall, and the thirteenth male out of twenty.

It was the 421st monthly running of this race, of which I have done 93.

Wednesday was Ugly!

Wednesday was a hard day. After not running for a week due to frigid temperatures, travel and Inauguration restrictions and closures, Wednesday was the day of the 420th running of the monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K race. It was my 92nd running of it (out of the last 102).

My agency’s rock star, G, ran the two and a half miles to the race’s start with me, at a 7:45 pace. So at the start, I was already dying, with my glasses so steamed from my perspiration that I had to put them in my pocket.

Off we went. My legs were feeling tired so I hoped that if I went out fast, the speed might come. I caught up with my doppelganger Peter early in the race and ran by him, elbowing him out of the way as he tried to pinch me off into a curbside bus as I passed him on the inside. A quarter mile later I heard his familiar shuffle coming up behind me and he ran by me, for good.

I entertained my familiar I-should-just-walk-now thoughts as I passed over the inlet bridge across the water from the Jefferson Memorial. The septuagenarian who always beats me passed me there.

I passed the mile mark in 7:28, well off the pace of most of last year’s runs, which tended to be around 7:00 or better at the mile mark. Running along the serpentine walkway by the Memorial, I felt sluggish and slow. I knew the only two women in the race, a sexagenarian and a septuagenarian, were behind me but I wondered how close. I successfully fought off the urge to turn and look because that is a sure sign of a struggling runner.

I passed the 2K mark at 9:08, a 7:21 pace, so I had picked it up a bit. That didn’t last long. Coming down the long last quarter mile straightaway, the wind hit me just as I was having a fantasy that I was making up time on the runner 30 meters ahead of me. All I had to do was summon a burst–from where?–and pass him, I thought. What are you, weak? I asked myself. And 10 yards further up was Peter. I could pass them both!

We finished in the same order. The strong arctic wind blowing in off the Potomac on the straightaway stayed our speed. My normal goal in this race is to break 13 minutes, something I did twice last year, but I had to hustle to break 14 minutes this race. I finished in 13:58 (7:29), my slowest time in well over a year, 51 seconds slower than last month.

I was 19/24, finishing just ahead of the first woman, and ahead of only two other men who were younger than me. A nice 79% showing for the race, or 86% for my gender. This race can suck.

My booby prize for being so slow was running the two and a half miles back to work with G, who finished fifth in 11:14 (6:01). He had mercy on me though, and trotted back alongside me at a leisurely 8:58 pace.

And then at 7 pm I went off to lead the weekly track workout for my Half Marathon Training Group. We did 5X1000 at 1:51 laps (7:27 pace), with 200M recovery jogs. Yeah, Wednesdays can really suck alright.

I accept full responsibility...

I accept full responsibility for local blogging legend DC Rainmaker winning a three decade old race outright at the end of his 2008 training season.

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I always run the free, monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K which is held on the third Wednesday of every month. The race dates back to the early 70s so it’s venerable. I think it’s older than Rainmaker.

All the old reliables showed up today. A former winner of the MCM was there. I was there. My doppelganger Peter was there. My agency’s rock star, G, was there. And Rainmaker showed up and came over and introduced himself to me.

He had been saying that he was going to run this fast and furious 1.8 mile sprint around the body of water that fronts both the Jefferson and FDR Memorials. I emailed him last night and told him to put up or shut up. Oh, he came alright!

I follow his outstanding blog, overlooking the fact that a lot of it is about biking because he runs really well. I knew that he was coming off a 37:21 (6:01) 10K at which he PRed on Sunday, and I figured that he might be in peak form.

I carefully described the course to him so he wouldn’t get lost. It’s pretty simple actually, get on the sidewalk by the road, always keep the road to your left and the water to your right and stop when you pass the clock back by the start line. It’s a big circle.

This month’s race was in memory of long-time local runner Ray Blue, an octogenarian who passed on recently. Another World War II vet gone. Everyone was wearing blue. After a few nice words in his honor, off we started. Rainmaker had asked me who the fast runners were but how did I know? After the first few seconds of any race, I never see them again. I had referred him to G the rock star, who usually comes in between fourth and eighth. Ten seconds after the start, Rainmaker was gone, along with G and many others. They were all way up there, receding rapidly.

I ran my typical race, good for a finish in the bottom quartile. I passed Peter early, as usual, but then surprisingly, he passed me back soon afterwards. I hung on him for awhile, then passed him back on the narrow bridge part, glancing him with an elbow as I went by. "Oh ho!" he cried, and the battle was joined. (We’re good friends.)

I ran the rest of the race wondering where Peter was behind me, dreading his famous finishing kick. But he didn’t have it today and I came in just ahead at 13:13 (7:06). I stood by the finish line with my hands on my knees and my head down, chest heaving. You’d have thought that I had just run a long ways really fast or something.

Rainmaker came up to me, completely relaxed and composed, and congratulated me on my finish. Umm, my finish way back in the pack.

I thanked him and asked him how he did. "About 10:30," he said.

"No," I said, "how’d you do?"

"Uh, I won?"

Yep, thanks to my good directions, Rainmaker had been able to bolt away from the lead pack just past the midway point and bring it home alone without going off course. Because after all, it’s pretty tricky to follow an unending sidewalk. He won the race. I suppose he’ll retire from 3K competition now as one and done, been there, won that.

G came in seventh in 11:10. Congrats to him, and also to a local biking and blogging phenom.

Last Wednesday was a big day

Last Wednesday sat on my monthly calendar like an albatross. It was the November noontime Tidal Basin 3K Race. I hadn’t run this furious little race since September. I’ve been busy at work so I haven’t been running. I didn’t race at all in October. My base, and speed, are shot.

It is a 2.6 mile run from my place of work to the race. I was late and showed up just as the other runners set off. No rest for the weary I thought as I launched right into the race. The race itself was nondescript, just a fast 1.86 mile run around the Tidal Basin, much like the almost 100 other ones I have done. I was almost a minute slower than in September, finishing in 13:52 (7:26). I couldn’t catch my alter-ego Peter in this race. The only good thing was that I hit the milepost at 7:27, and maintained that pace to the end without falling off.

My agency’s rock star, G, was also late to the race, doing 6:15s to get there just as the runners set off, he said. Since he didn’t arrive in time to get a blow himself before the race, he did an 11:27 (6:09) instead of his typical 11:17 or so. Too bad. We were both counting on the race starting five minutes late per usual, but since it was cold out, they set off right at noon.

But what was worse, I had to run the 2.6 miles back with G. He mercifully slowed down for me and we did mere sub-eights going back. I was dying. So by 1 pm I had seven miles in, with most of them fast.

But my day wasn’t through. Oh no. Wednesday evening was week two of track workouts for the half-marathon training group I direct. I’m pretty much expected to show up since my training group is sponsored by Reebok. A light workout of 5X800 at 10K race pace was scheduled. That would be 1:55 laps for me. Me and two other runners huffed and puffed our way around the track for five double laps, burning 1:50s or 1:52s. There were two other coaches there, conducting the slower runners in 2:20s or 2:30s. I eyed them covetously every time we passed by them. I was glad when the day was finally over.

However, it’s all good.

I missed!

I didn't run in this month's noontime Tidal Basin 3K race for the first time since September 2006. Back then I was out in California to run the Inaugural Disneyland Half-Marathon and see baseball games in three different baseball parks (Padres, Dodgers and A's). This month I had to file a case in Tampa for my agency. Sometimes work intrudes upon running. Don't you just hate it when that happens?

When I returned I jogged down to the Tidal Basin and lined up. 14:05 (7:33) later I was back, having completed my virtual race. Heh, heh, I beat my doppelganger Peter, who ran in the actual race, and he doesn't even know it.

Before I missed this month's actual race, I had run in 89 of the last 98 of these monthly races. So, how do I count this virtual race? Runners aren't obsessive, oh no.

Yawn, yet another 3K.

A week ago yesterday I ran a special edition of the free noontime Tidal Basin 3K Race. The RRCA had a Run To Work Day for its 50th Anniversary, as I understand it, and the DC representative set up a Friday running of this monthly 3K race, normally sponsored by my running club, the DC Road Runners.

It was a sparse turnout. At noon, the sponsor was begging people jogging by on noontime runs to participate in the race. A workmate of mine ran by, halfway through a six-mile monument run, and I waved him over. He was game, although he had never run a 3K race before. I told him not to start too fast and then to kick it up as he felt comfortable.

Secretly I was pleased. I knew I was faster than this workmate. I have been remiss so far because I have only been successful in persuading workmates to run this race who are faster than me.

My doppelganger Peter was there and I gave him the disinformation that I felt really bad that day. He laughed me off knowingly and then told me he felt bad.

Off we went at noon, eleven of us. The runners froze into place a quarter mile down the road when I ran by Peter, as customary (he often runs by me again the last quarter mile) and Gary ran by me a short while later, as usual. After that, no one changed places anywhere in the race, it just gradually widened out.

I ran well. The guy in front of me steadily stretched out his lead over me, a process repeated all up and down the food chain ahead of me and behind me. I finished sixth in 12:52 (6:55). Woo hoo! I broke 13 minutes for only the second time this year (12:59 in April was the other time). My mile mark was 6:49, and my 2K mark was 8:37, exactly the same as two days earlier. But somehow on Friday I ran the last 1K eight seconds faster than on Wednesday. Go figure.

My workmate ran an excellent 14:04 (7:33) and he came in DFL among the men. Is this a tough race or what?

Afterwards there was trouble. A Parks Policewoman in a plain wrapper spotted us, a small knot of emaciated men and women in short clothes gathered around a plain folding table holding a water jug and cups set on the grass by street's edge at the intersection of Ohio Drive and FDR Drive, 3/4 mile from the Jefferson Memorial and 1/4 mile from the FDR Memorial. She parked alongside us, got out of her sneaker and strutted over to ask for our "permit" to "gather" on Park Service land. The race sponsor said he thought that as long as the "gathering" was under 25 persons, no permit was needed.

"That's just for demonstrations," she said, "not gatherings. And no permit has ever been issued for here. Well?"

I didn't help matters when I blurted out, "Free Tibet!"

She lectured us and told us to read the "regulations" (sure, we'll get right on it) because "it's all in there." Grandly saying she'd "let it go this time," she contemptuously surveyed our pathetic, sweating skinny little group standing there in abbreviated clothes acting as respectful as possible. Then she parked her fat ass in her unit and left. Bah!

Yawn, another 3K.

A week ago Wednesday was the monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K race. Several people I knew from running were there.

Such as Jose, who is faster than me. He asked me what time I was going to get, because he likes my pace and he always runs a little ways behind me until the two-thirds point, when he effortlessly moves way up, always speaking encouragement to everyone he passes. I like Jose a lot, and he is a good guy, but it’s irritating to hear him coming and know you’re next. I told Jose I was shooting for 13:10, because that’s what I ran last month.

I ran by Peter early, as usual, and settled into a steady pace behind the fourth woman, who was running at a pace I liked. Yeah, this is the ticket, I told myself as I fell in 10 meters behind this pretty blonde thirty-something with the nice stride and the nicer lines.

I missed the 1K and one mile markers but passed by the 2K mark at 8:37 (6:56). Jose passed me around here, speaking encouragingly to me as he did so, telling me how great I looked and how smooth I was running. I hope he didn't see my thought bubble which was screaming, Liar! Jose rapidly drew off and went past the woman I was chasing, finishing well ahead of us both.

Soon, despite my desire, I couldn’t keep up with the woman anymore and she started to draw ahead too. Then two men passed me. With three hundred meters I passed one of them back. He passed me again. I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t see Peter back there. I could see the finish clock now, in the high 12s. I didn’t think I could get there in time to break 13, always my objective in this race, but I did make a push and passed the second man one last time. I finished one second ahead of him in 13:03 (7:00).

I was 31/61, six seconds behind the woman I had been pursuing all race and four seconds behind the man who passed me late. Peter, the caboose in our busy little bunch, finished ten seconds behind me, one second in back of the fifth woman. I regretted not going with the first man who passed me late because then I might have broken 13 minutes, as he finished in 12:59. But I was happy I found the energy to engage in a duel with the second man who passed me late because I have been working on finishing more strongly.

This, my 88th Tidal Basin race, was yet another fun short race.

Disruptions

At noon today I ran in the monthly Tidal Basin 3K race. There were about 60 of us mad dogs and Englishmen out there running in the midday August heat.

I haven’t been running too well this year so I have started doing track workouts. Last night I ran 8X600 at 2:50s (7:36 pace) with a 200M recovery jog. Those intervals about killed me so I wasn’t expecting to do well today.

I was thinking about the track workout as I passed by the half-mile mark in the 1.86 mile race. I was busy formulating in my mind how the prior evening’s routine had doomed today’s race so I could mentally quit and "walk it in" at an easy pace.

This monthly race has its own immutable rhythm. All of the regular males were ahead of me, along with at least one woman. Another woman, perhaps the second female, was practically on my hip. Suddenly my doppelganger, Peter, cruised by me.

Peter, who is about my age and about my speed, keeps me honest in this race. He is my conscience.

Usually he doesn’t pass me until late, after a mile and a half have been run. Then he puts me away with his finishing speed. Whenever I beat him, it’s always because I have built up too large a lead during the first mile and a half for him to overcome.

Today his pass was early. I passed him back. He passed me again. I passed him once more. Again he passed me. I returned the favor again.

This could seem to be a riveting battle if it didn’t merely involve a couple of middle-aged mid-packers in an obscure (but venerable–dating back to 1974) little noontime downtown race.

I passed by the mile marker in 6:55, about 10 seconds faster than usual.

I started casting covetous looks at the back of the septuagenarian who always goes by me early and beats me by a few seconds. Maybe today I would overtake the 71-year old and it would induce me to a sub-13 minute finish, a rarity for me.

This month’s race, unlike most months, didn’t stretch out interminably. It passed by swiftly and I was able to take deep breaths during its latter stages. Maybe the track work was helping, not hindering, me.

Two or three younger men passed me late, but the second woman didn’t, nor did Peter. The 71-year old finished five seconds ahead of me. I finished in 13:09 (7:03), a fifteen second improvement over last month.

Peter came in a few seconds later. I jokingly accused him of trying to disrupt the natural flow of this monthly race by passing me too early. He said he was trying something different, pushing it early so he could pass me sooner rather than later. It left him with nothing for the final stretch, he said. I told him his uncharacteristic appearance beside me so early in the race had induced me to run an extra-fast first mile.

He said earnestly, "You’re welcome," and we both laughed.

Noontime Weekday Race

A week ago I ran in the monthly free noontime Tidal Basin 3K race, my 24th consecutive one. It’s my monthly speedwork, running this short furious race around the Jefferson Memorial Tidal Basin with scores of other dedicated runners. I always finish in the bottom half, usually in the lowest quartile. This month I was 37/67, 55%. Among men I was 34/48, 71%. My time was 13:24 (7:11). The only other relevant number was the temperature, 92 degrees.

But there are other interesting numbers, at least to me. Someone made marks on the course to indicate 1K, one mile and 2K.

I passed 1K at 4:16 (6:52). I passed one mile at 7:01. That meant from 0.6 mile to one mile my pace was 7:14. I forgot to note 2K. I ran the last 0.86 miles from the mile marker to the finish line at a 7:25 pace.

I was obviously running myself straight into the ground. No negative splits for this guy. (Above: The "hill" on the 3K course, around the 1K mark. The Tidal Basin is 200M to the right.)

So long.

On Wednesday I ran my monthly noontime 3K race around the Tidal Basin in 13:28 (7:17). My hamstring was tender from where I strained it last weekend at the Lake Tahoe Relay but it held up well enough. I was pleased with my time since I was still a little jet-lagged. I flew out of LAX on Sunday night at 10:30 pm, arrived at IAD at 6:30 am on Monday and went straight to work.

But here’s some real news. I’m going on another trip, the trip of a lifetime. I’m flying to Las Vegas today to hook up with my college freshman roommate and ten other freshman dormmates for a rafting trip down the Grand Canyon. Eight days and seven nights on the Colorado River. Most of us are divorced (surprise! In America?), and the wife of the one guy that I can think of who never got divorced isn’t coming. No girls allowed. Or ROTC guys either.

Here’s a picture, circa 1971, of part of the gang. I’m on the far right. Yes, we seem to be on somebody’s lawn. No wonder we all were handed our divorces.

The Sewell Hall Rafters. Sewell Hall was the first coed dorm there at CU-Boulder, a freshman dorm at that. Swell Hall, we called it. In 1970 it was a wild and crazy place.

Those were different times. I could tell you some stories, but I won’t because our society has become so intolerant. But I will tell you that Guy could tell a whale of a sea story. He would stand and make Steve’s waterbed rock with his foot while the rest of us lay atop the mattress being buffeted by the mountainous waves that Guy caused, as the strobe light created a stormy effect and Jimi’s guitar clashed and crashed on the stereo in tune with the rise and fall of Guy's tale about gales and shipwrecks and monstrous ocean dwellers.

Steve got to have a waterbed in the dormitory because he had a bad back supposedly. It was prescribed, by a doctor. I’m not sure that Steve ever got to actually sleep on it.

No laptops on the rafts in the Grand Canyon. I’ll see y’all next month.

Another Wednesday, Another Run

Today was the third Wednesday of the month. Time for the monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K run, which dates back to 1974.

I consider this fast and furious 1.86 mile race to be my speed work. I usually run a low 7-minute pace for the near two mile distance. This is after a 2.6 mile warmup run getting there from my office. After the race I have a 2.6 mile cooldown run back to work. Lately I have been throwing a third-of-a-mile charge up Capitol Hill into the cooldown run so I can get a little hillwork in. This is because I am getting ready for the hilly Lake Tahoe Relay Race in three and a half weeks, where I'm going to run on Bex's team. I have been assigned a leg that goes over a mountain pass, topping out at 6800 feet after climbing 500 feet in two miles. (Left: The "hill" on the course, running on the sidewalk up past the Tulip Library.)

This staple on my race calendar (I have done 83 of these hummers in the last 92 months) is my great strategical laboratory. I have a shadow in this race named Peter who is always nearby and usually beats me. He beat me by nine seconds in the 3K race on Sunday, after we had both run a race during the previous hour.

Peter is only three years younger and near my speed, although he has a different style than me. He utilizes a powerful finish whereas I prefer to go out strong and hold on.

I view him in my binary view of the world as faster than me. However, because I am capable of beating him, I can’t shrug his usual success away to the work of the gods.

Today was a nice day for running although there was a slight breeze. When the race started, Peter took off as usual. Today I decided to match his early charge. Usually I let him go and catch him mid-race, hoping I can put enough distance on him from there that I won’t succumb to his signature final furious finish. (Right: Here's another view of the "hill," looking back at the where the runners come from as they run up the sidewalk on the left. Notice the Tidal Basin off to the left beyond the trees.)

I pressed at the start and passed him at the quarter mile mark. He fell away behind me as I uncharacteristically hung with the back-of-the-front-packers for awhile. Soon I was really laboring though and I fell away from that group.

I passed the mile marker at 6:59. Although I felt like I was definitely slowing down, Peter was still behind me, too far back for me glimpse when I glanced back.

In the final leg, two men ran by me and I could hear two more closing in. This last stretch is interminably long, a slog down a flat straightway that just goes on forever for a runner like me who typically doesn’t do negative splits. I feel like a fly in amber on it, running numbly while getting caught by fast finishers.

I started swivelling to locate Peter. I spotted him back there but thought I was too far ahead for him to catch me. I had some payback in mind for last Sunday.

The finish clock was reading in the 12:50s as I approached. I like to break 13 minutes but I was too far away for that. I finished in 13:01 (6:59), two seconds faster than the time I had on Sunday. Peter finished fourteen seconds later. I was 29th out of 66 runners.

I had evolved a strategy in this race of starting fast in order to beat Peter, but I didn’t break 13:00 which always used to be my goal. My fast start robbed me of the endurance I needed for a stronger push during the last half of the race and a surge at the end.

When I go by Peter late, as I usually do, he hangs onto me then, and kills me with his finishing charge. This time I got away from him and he couldn't run me down. I wonder if I am focusing on the wrong thing in this race. What do you think?

2008 Capitol Hill Classic 3K

An hour after I finished the Capitol Hill Classic 10K on Sunday morning, I lined up for the Capitol Hill Classic 3K. This is supposedly a fun run, although it is chip timed. Plus they have a fun run for the kids after this fun run. Even though this race is loaded with kids, it’s competitive.

Two years ago I finished 19th in 13:20 (7:09) and took my age group. Last year I added the challenge of running a double and finished 13th in 13:40 (7:20), again winning my age group. (Right: The 2007 Capitol Hill Classic 10K/3K course.)

This year the usual gaggle of kids crowded to the front at the start line. At the Go command, they all burst off down the road, receding rapidly. It looked like someone had thrown open the door to a dark dank basement and a multitude of bugs were scurrying away to keep ahead of the advancing sunlight.

A quarter mile into the race the street became really congested with pint-sized runners flaming out and veering unpredictably all over the roadway. This is the dangerous point in this race that calls for the exercise of caution.

I safely picked my way through the flame-outs and the real race started. There were a half-dozen little kids still ahead who never came back to me. They relentlessly ran to the finish line and I never saw any of them again. There were also five women up there and not a one of them ever came back to me either, including an eight-year old girl. And a 51-year old woman. Oh well. (Left: Last year in the 3K, I couldn't get away from all the street urchins.)

Also ahead was my doppelganger, Peter. A 3K specialist about my age with the same first name, he’s about my speed except that he’s slightly faster.

He runs every monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K race, just as I do. We’re like the Odd Couple with our familiar routine. He breaks off the start line, I pass him mid-way through the race and then he goes postal in the last quarter mile and puts me away. Occasionally, though, I put enough distance on him first that he can't catch me.

We’re good competitors and good friends. Back in 2001 in my third race ever, I won my age group and received a medal in a small 5K on a hot, humid day on a hilly course in the Shenandoah Valley. I didn’t win another medal for four more years. The person I beat out for that medal, by a mere four seconds, was Peter, although I didn’t know him at the time. Ours are special battles.

We had spoken before the 3K race, and I let him know that I had already run a 10K race that morning and he let me know that he had already run a 3K race that morning. Let the true games begin! (Right: The 2008 Capitol Hill Classic 10K/3K course.)

As I approached Peter late in the race, I got picked off by a very polite 12-year old who greeted me by name as he went by. He beat me by 22 seconds. Last year I beat him by 22 seconds. What a difference a year makes.

This youth’s adult running buddy, another regular at the monthly Tidal Basin 3K, also came by then. He went on to finish ahead of Peter also. The exact routine that was unfolding is scripted in almost all of the 3Ks the three of us run in.

I passed Peter. A minute later he passed me back but then he didn’t put me away. He merely settled in directly in front of me. So I passed him again, and tried to run it in the last quarter mile. Nope, Peter went postal.

I can hear this coming. I have come to recognize the sound of Peter's breathing and footfalls as he approaches, and the change in his breathing when he really revs it up. He flew by and finished nine seconds ahead of me. I strained to bring it home in 13:03 (7:00) in 15th place, first in my age group again. I felt good about my effort, even though five pre-teenage boys did beat me.

When the results were posted, on a whim I searched the 10K results for everyone who finished ahead of me in the 3K, to see if any of them had run the 10K. I thought that I might be the first Capitol Hill Classic doubler to finish the 3K.

Nope, there was T, nine places ahead of me in 12:16. But he had run his 10K in 1:11:07 whereas I had run my 10K in 47:31 (7:39) so my total time was way better than his total time.

The real problem with being smug about this factoid? T is eight years old.

Tidal Basin 3K

On Wednesday I went down to the Tidal Basin at noon to run in the free, monthly 3K race held the third Wednesday of every month. This race has been run consecutively since April 1974.

It's a short, furious sprint around the small body of water that is the Tidal Basin, with the FDR Memorial on one side and the Jefferson Memorial on the other. Soon a small park in memory of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. will be added to it. (Right: The "hill" on the 3K course.)

The run is very scenic. Best of all is when this horde of dashing men and women suddenly descends upon strolling tourists, especially in the beginning when the pack of runners is still tight. Their eyes tend to get big and they invariably freeze in place, usually with their arms wrapped protectively around their torsos, until the mad pack is past.

I have run this race in 72 of the last 81 months. This month I ran a 12:59 (6:58) for the 1.86 mile distance, which is pleasing since breaking 13 minutes is my benchmark of a good race. I hadn't done that in a year. My co-worker M was complaining about feeling sick and saying he might have to drop out but he threw down an 11:48 (6:20). I should be so sick.

This is the 3-mile race we're getting ready for later this month.

Another Wednesday, another race.

Last Wednesday was the monthly running of the noontime Tidal Basin 3K. It's a 2.6 mile warmup run down there from my building for the 1.86 mile race, then a 2.6 mile cooldown run back to work. It's a full midday workout alright.

I ran into our agency's rock star G on the way down there. He is nice enough to run slower when he falls in with us mere mortals, so we hoofed it down there at a slow 7:40 pace. Some warmup! My tongue was already hanging out when we lined up at the start.

The race was much like the other 77 I have done. I chased my doppelganger Peter the entire way and never caught him. I was overtaken in the last quarter mile by a charging man and then a woman. I let them go by because I was used up. I finished in 13:38 (7:19), a six second improvement over last month but still a far cry from my gold standard of sub-13 minutes. This race had technical difficulties that were kind of funny though.

For starters, a tour bus was trying to drive through as we were lining up in the roadway at the start. Usually we clear the roadway to let them by but this time someone yelled the G word and half the crowd broke. Then the rest of the pack followed. Meanwhile the starter hadn't started the clock yet, so it was 10 seconds off the real time. It was windy too. By the Jefferson Memorial the wind hit the runners full blast and actually slowed us down. The wind blew the finishers' cards, which designated the runners' places, out of the hand of the official handing them out and they got all scrambled up. With the finisher cards so out of order, and the time off by so much, the race result was chaotic. I just know how fast I went and who I finished immediately behind. You know, same old same old. (Above: The wind hit us hard on the homestretch. There's Peter, my doppelganger in the white shirt wearing gloves.)

G finished in his usual 11:00 (5:54). He relented on the way back to our agency and dawdled along with me at an 8:40 pace.