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SRRC Race Reports
Army 10 Miler, Arlington, VA--Sunday, Oct. 2, 2005
by
Phil Holt
What if they held a race, and everyone showed up? What if everyone showed up, and it was a beautiful day, and they ran, but no one could prove it?
That was the 2005 Army 10 Miler, the best race that never was. It was a picture perfect morning for running. The race area at the Pentagon was absolutely the best organized it’s ever been, with brisk security lines, a bag check that was brilliantly simple and un-congested, and porta-johns with short lines. With 20,000 runners, this sort of organization is a race-day dream come true.
Apart from the excellent organization, two other differences stand out. First, the howitzers were located right on the highway next to the starting corrals, so you could watch them fire. For the sake of the large crowd, they fired the starting gun repeatedly as waves of runners surged past. The other difference was that the course was re-routed early in the race because of a major security concern at the 14th Street Bridge.* So the 10 miler was really 11.4 miles, had no timing at the finish, and was declared unofficial. From the point of view of the record books, it never happened.
So here’s the story of the race that Maria and I can’t prove we ran, both of us exceeding expectations we can’t document. We left the South Riding Starbucks at about 5:55 VCT—everyone in the club knows what that is by now—after confirming that we were the only ones. (Kathleen left separately to pick up another runner at another spot.) We were able to make the trip to the Pentagon without my having to touch the brakes more than two or three times. Parking was a breeze. As we walked through the tunnel between the mall and the Pentagon, hundreds of runners chattered nervously, filling the tunnel with such a din that we could barely hear.
We ambled over to the main staging area where we impersonated members of a team to gain access to a couple of bottles of water. We didn’t actually mislead anyone. We just walked into a tent looking like we belonged, picked up the water, and said thank-you to the smiling volunteers. Don’t try this at the Giant. We didn’t have to stand in line, so the next part needs no comment. After walking around a bit, we wandered toward the starting area, looking up the whole time at the spectacular aerobatics of the U.S. Army Golden Knights Skydiving team. (More on that later.) They spiraled wildly toward the ground trailing plumes of red smoke while the announcer waxed poetic about their skills. He wasn’t kidding. It’s hard to believe you can move like that under a parachute.
At this point, Maria and I split up. She had a few more minutes to stand in line. I was anxious to get into the starting area, stretch a little, and get going. The announcer sounded just like an enthusiastic 60’s DJ, and the crowd extended back from the start for as far as I could see—20,000 runners take up a lot of space. This year, two howitzers were positioned to the left of the start where we could see them being fired. The soldiers manning the guns were clearly observing a rigorous routine to make sure that everything was done safely, their movements so precise they almost looked mechanical. When the start was called, the ground shook with a resounding thump as the gun spewed smoke in the direction we were all going to run.
Maria was going to meet me up at the start. I didn’t see her, so I started running. I was using a bell-curve plan, expecting to warm up for a mile or two at the start and fade for a mile or two at the end. The rest of the distance I wanted to run as fast as I could for as long as I could, keeping the top of the curve as wide as possible. The race went just as planned, and I was at or ahead of my target pace the whole way.
As I passed mile seven, I began preparing for the trip down Independence Ave. (downhill!) and the turn toward the 14th Street Bridge and, not far beyond that, the finish. We ran, and we ran. I kept thinking, “The turn is here. . . . I guess not. It must be the next street. . . . No? Maybe further? Further? That would be a new course. . . . Okay, it’s a new course. . . . Shame on me for not checking the course on the web.” I kept running hard. I knew that the finish would be soon. As we passed under the Memorial Bridge, I began to get a strange feeling. I thought I was better prepared than this. I didn’t think I should feel this tired. The finish shouldn’t feel this far away. We crossed the bridge and passed the last clock: 1:16. Assuming it was mile nine, I resigned myself to missing my sub-80-minute goal. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. I told myself to get over it and enjoy the rest of the run.
As we approached the finish, I noticed that it was in the same spot as the start. This didn’t strike me as particularly odd until one of the spectators shouted, “11.4 miles! 100 yards to go.” Excuse me? 11.4?** That’s more than I expected. The clock back there wasn't measuring anything useful--it was just the mile one clock facing backwards. I ran under the arc of balloons looking for the mat that would log my time from my chip. No mats. No clocks. I’d run the 11.4 in 84 minutes . . . wait . . . that’s faster than I thought. After doing the math, I realized that I’d averaged 7:30’s the whole way and run a personal best. When Maria and I met after the race, she had not only run farther than she planned but 30 sec./mile faster than she expected.
Unfortunately, this was the one that got away. With no official time, my personal best will remain about two minutes slower according to the Army 10 race records. All I will be able to do is hold my hands in the air, palms facing each other about two feet apart and say, “I once ran a race this fast!” As I lingered in the staging area, one of the Army Golden Knights came by. Forget any stereotypes about macho hot-dogging among the boys on the skydiving team. This woman was beautiful, an officer, smart, and pure Army spit & polish while she smiled for photos and signed autographs. I didn’t get one. I should have asked. At least I could have proven I was at the Pentagon on 10/2 for the best race that never happened.
October 2005.
The SRRC would love to hear about your running, racing, or crewing experiences! If you would like to submit a race report, to be posted on the SRRC website, please email srrunner@srrunners.org.
October 2, 2005
21st Army Ten-Miler Announcement
Based on recommendations from DC Metro Police the race route was changed due
to security concerns.
At 8:02AM DC Metro identifies a suspicious package on the 14th Street Bridge
under the HOV lanes. Race officials decided to re-route runners at Mile
Marker 7 (Independence and 14th Street area). The DC Metro Explosive
Ordnance Unit investigated the package and cleared the package at 8:55AM.
Race Officials made this course change so runners could complete the race
and spectators could participate in a safe and secure manner.
Runners were redirected back down Independence Avenue across Memorial Bridge
and finished at the Start Point.
This route change afforded everyone involved proper recovery to include:
security, water, food, and medical support.
Racers were directed as they concluded the course to turn in their chips and
report to race village for refreshments and join up with their families.
Because the course was modified this is no longer an official race.
Awards will be given for: HOOAH Tent.
We are very proud of our interagency partners as we were successful in making the 21st Army Ten-Miler a safe and secure race. We applaud everyone's adaptability this morning.
According to the Race Director, "Because the course was modified the official race was declared a recreational run and was not scored. We estimate that the recreational run distance was 11.2 miles." The distance we ran, however, was verified by multiple GPS readings as 11.39 - 11.4 miles.