Two years ago, I set a "pie-in-the-sky" goal of 45 minutes for a 10K. I never really trained for it, and I never really achieved it.
This year, I opened the "season" with back-to-back 10K Races. One, the MS Run, in lousy conditions and the next in Brockville, under better conditions. Truth is, I wasn't really "healed" from my bad foot, and wasn't anywhere in shape - although they were both pleasant experiences.
At the Cornwall Triathlon, I completely bonked on the last 5K of the 10K run, and since then, I had pretty much given up on training.
We had planned to do the Glengarry Run, if nothing else than to support a good local race, and a good cause. But it wasn't until this morning that I decided to go for the 10K. Partly out of some morbid curiosity to see how out-of-shape I really was after a good two months of personally stimulating the economies of the beer-producers of both North America and Europe.
I let it slip out in pre-race chatter that I'd like to go for 45 minutes. (What the heck was I thinking?) Deep down inside, I hoped for at least sub 50. We lined up and I seeded relatively far back; and then, we were off.
As usual, I took off with some kind of unreserved fury. I caught myself after 100 meters, and tried to "settle-in". The sub-40 guys were out far enough. I hit the 500 meter mark at 2:02 and I thought, "uh-oh". 1K was 4:06, and so I said to myself... "well, we've got a bit of time in the bank if we are going sub-45 today" (4:30 splits would give me the magical 45 minute time).
But then, things started to get hard. And I was breathing like a rabid dog. 2K came at 4:28. This was nuts, I couldn't keep that up. 2.5K and the turn around appeared for the '5': it was all I could do to not turn around and declare myself a 5K participant.
3K, 4K... things were on track. In fact, the race course was marked out in 500 meter increments, and every 500 meters was showing me that I was on target... and I still had some time in the bank. There was NO way I could keep this up though. I told myself to hold it until the turnaround; I'd toast myself for a fast 5K, and then jog it home. Somehow, my legs had another agenda...
6K and still on track.
6.5K and the wheels fell off! "Aha!" I knew it. "I'll just coast home from here". But darn it, if the heavy breathing of a fellow competitor behind me didn't keep me going. I was able to do something I'm never able to do - I found a small fibre of mental strength, and held on. 7K - Rik catches me. 7.5K and my splits are back on target. I was starting to get excited - 45 was a possibility.
9K at 40:23. I was dead tired, but still able to compute that a 5 minute last kilometer would give me 45:
something. 9.5K and I was still on target for sub-45. I poured it on. I could see the clock. I was 20 meters away. 44:40 - no problem, I slowed down. I'll coast into the finish line with time to spare... but then somehow the seconds started going by FASTER than usual (so it seemed). At 7 meters to go, I had to sprint for it..... BEEP... I stopped my watch just shy of 45 minutes. Official gun time...
44:59.6.Can I get a Hallelujah!I even got a medal for 2nd in my age group.
Les SplitsAll in all, a great day for the Barnes family. Andrew first boy in the 1K (5:05). Laura 3rd girl and 5th overall in the 1K (5:45). Guylaine a PB of 53:39 - for 2nd female overall - and a tough lesson on Chip time vs Gun Time. Lots of good times and medals for the CMC family too.
