Questions? Comments?
Contact us:
srrunner@srrunners.org

SRRC Race Reports

Cherry Blossom 10 Miler , Washington, DC—Sunday, April 5, 2009
by Adam Borbidge

The CUCB, more beautifully pronounced "Cherry Blossom", was my first race of 2009. So, in hindsight, it's not surprising that I re-learned a few basic lessons from this race. Lessons that are lost on a runner who doesn't specifically "train" (Choo! Choo! Watch out for the "train") but maintains some running fitness to bandit the Shan-gri-la race that isn't on any race calendar but may one day show up like the fleeting glimpse of a mirage, complete with chip timing and fee free online registration.

It's a beautiful time of year for a race . . .

Use Metro

I/we live in the 'burbs and it makes sense to follow the advice of the Capital savvy WMATA. I found Metro parking at the second station I went to. My in-laws found plentiful onstreet parking downtown on Saturday. So to everyone else, I say, "Use Metro". I'll be glad you did.

U2 concert or packet pickup?

Packet pick-up and race expo was hosted in the National Building Museum. It is a metro stop, and it is right there when you ride the escalator to street level. Snaking to your right is the line down the block and almost around the corner that will lead you to the line to the left snaking fully around the opposite corner of the city block sized museum.

But hey, 'No worries'. I had no schedule for my Saturday. The sun was shining. The line was moving. When I moved indoors it was a museum I had never visited where the line continued, surrounding the entire race expo being held in the museum's atrium. Its a double faux pas to misname a piece of the Building Museum architecture, so let me recall "atrium" and say the center area with the skylight overhead.

I handled the task of collecting three race packets in short order, and I took a little time to browse the expo, noting the museum cafe booth had a total lock on the appetite and wallets of thousands of carbivores waiting in the packet pickup line over lunchtime.

Race morning

6:15AM Starbucks, South Riding. I hopped in my ride to the race start. No problems getting down to the starting area. I didn't even have to assume the traditional navigation duties of riding in the front seat. Thank you Team Z!

The staging area was divided into two camps by the starting corrals—food and porta-potties on one side of the street and baggage drop on the other side. I couldn't see the start line from that vantage point, but the voice protruding out of the loudspeaker would proclaim how we really should get to our corrals. So, first memorable experience of that Palm Sunday was the incessant voice protruding out of the PA system right into my medullah ablongata.

T-minus 50 minutes - Its time you all start heading over to your race corral. (I could still be in the SR and still make the start line).

T-minus 42 minutes - Its seriously time. (To stay in my warm-ups and continue observing all the funny manners in how the runner sapiens interacts with the herd.)

T-minus 15 mnutes - This is REALLY the final call. (Okay, now I can check my bag and walk, not run, over to my corral.)

But after the fourth sound off I was acutely aware that I had let some sense of urgency manifiest inside me via the early warning system. It certainly threw off my trumped up sense of semi-pro serenity. So I dashed in and out of the corrals searching for the absolute start line and my corral situated behind the elites.

The urgency traveled through my spine across the helper brain relay and into my left foot. One shoe was tied too tight but not tight enough. Too tight. Too loose. Just right. SHUT UP!

I did recall that passing 10 minutes in a corral is pretty easy. A local high school vocalist belted out the anthem. The course grand marshals said their bit and waved. The mayor waved and gave his city a "God Bless You All" (and apparently hustled down the staircase and blended into the mass).

I heard the word "Go!" No pistol. No speakerphone. There was a slight pause after what I assume was the elite wave shuffling across the mat and then corral 1 was moving. I knew I wouldn't get too much of a gun time / net time delta. In other words, each mile marker split would be pretty much right on, so unlike 95% of my running I started using my stopwatch. I made a decent pace without getting too hyperventiated at the outset. I was amazed to see so many out in front - it looked like hundreds were already in front of me.

After a few minutes I saw a tall runner dead ahead. He was wearing a Fleet Feet Sports jersey. (Who knows where this is going?) He was sporting a pretty good tan and that he had a pretty high RPM stride. It was a quick turnover but he wasn't legging it out. And I wondered if he was pacing himself like everyone should be doing at the half mile point. Since he was just pacing I should definitely pass him. Fleet Feet Sports, eh? I was playing a hunch.

I passed the runner on the right and took a glance back. Yep. The gaze of DC Mayor Adrian Fenty was fixed on a point some distance ahead. It was my first celebrity sighting at a race. The novelty of seeing the Fenty clan's political star carried me for a while.

I was pleased to see the first mile marker come up at 6:10. A little fast but not unsustainable. For the next mile I tried with some ingenuity to maintain the exact same pace. And I did for the most part. Mile 3 gave us runners an uphill, and I knew my time was just a few seconds off. Up to Mile 5 I felt like I was gradually fading. Several runners passed me but I wanted to rediscover the game of saving something for the end. Over the next couple of miles more runners passed, but I initiated the conscious effort of speeding up. By mile 7, the effort was starting to pay off and I was speeding up—just enough, I hoped, to make up for mile 3 and 4.

At about 7.5 miles I officially moved into fifth gear. Maybe high fourth gear. After mile nine, there was a sign reading 1200 meters to go. That sign must have been measured for the track because it really was like running around a loop. I picked it up with a vague notion of less than a mile, just three laps, but that next 800 seemed long. Some rational part of me was saying, "Yeah, it will take at least five minutes to go that distance (~3/4 mile)." The engine was running for a two minute effort, calibrated on a 67 second lap, but the mental calculation was 90. Anyway, that 800 ended at the "400 meters to go" sign. That one's harder to rationalize. You can hear the finish line crowd and after that corner has to be visual proof. So, there's a bit of uphill. Its a gear change, a shift in tilt, arm piston, and attitiude.* I roared out a warning to the last lady to pass me, "Sprrrriint!!!" Fair warning from the chauvinist just before I overtook her and pounded down the home stretch.

The finish area wasn't too crowded allowing for a leisurely jaunt past a row of seats and into a loose group of finishers. Plenty of room to catch my breath, fight down the urge to yak, then congratulate the young lady who pushed me so hard in the final stretch. It didn't seem but a minute before the announcer was proclaiming the Mayoral sprint down the homestretch.

Post-race

After a little cool-down jog and some serious stretching, I collected my bag of street clothes. Then I did my best impersonation of a DC tourist, elated to see the cherry blossoms at their peak without the aid of an umbrella and other Deadliest Catch weather gear. I was fortunate to run this wonderful race in some of the best conditions in a long time. Lovely weekend.

Lovely weekend . . .

April 2009

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.