Terri Roemer Paramus Run - Marty Roemer Memorial 10K Run - Oct. 16, 2022

Maybe the 5K win gave me a boost of confidence.  Maybe I was thinking about how I had not done a 10K in a while.  Maybe I plain lost my mind, but for some reason, I signed up for a 10K that took place exactly one week after my 5K.

During the week in between, I repeated the previous week's pre-race training, but with a 40-minute tempo run on Wednesday, instead of a 30.  I rested on Friday and Saturday and showed up at Paramus Park Mall bright and early in the mild, sunny morning.  I had written down turn-by-turn directions, but as the parking lot got more and more crowded, it seemed I would not need it.  This was a much bigger race than the previous week, I felt ill-prepared, and I was not comfortable with the size of the field.  

After doing a mile warmup and walking around trying to find somewhere to put my car key (finally settling on my back pocket), it was time to line up.  I went up front but stayed to the side a bit, sizing up the other runners and putting myself near the first bunch of ladies because my race is usually comparable to theirs.  We were given the signal and we were off.

I had given myself a reasonable goal - finish this thing in the 40-minute range and be happy with it.

If for no other reason than to escape the crowd, I pushed off as quickly as possible, running south along Ring Road, with the mall to my right and the Garden State Parkway to my left.  Crossing under the parkway onto Midland Avenue, I hit a 5:57 - my first sub-6 mile in a year.  Off to a good start, but I knew there was no way to sustain that.  And that was OK because a sub-40 suddenly seemed quite doable.  

The leader pulled away and there was a cluster of guys behind him, then another small cluster, a couple of stragglers, then me.  From what I could tell, I was maybe around 10th place.  There were so many turns, it was hard to tell - two rights, and then a left on Elmwood, where there was enough of a straightaway that I could push the speed into a 6:06 second mile.  

More turns - left, right, then a loop around a block.  Thank goodness the turns were clearly marked and there were people ahead of me to chase.  Unfortunately, there was also one person right next to me.  Every time I tried to move away from him, he moved with me.  I would try to drift away and he would drift right with me.  He would not pass, he just stayed glued to me.  Is this guy drafting me?  Is that even a thing at the amateur speed we are going? 

Look, I just started dipping my toes into public road racing again.  My personal space boundaries since covid started have gotten huge.  I started freaking out inside.  And then, outside...

"Get away from me!" I yelled.

"What?  It's a race," said the guy.

Realizing my outburst probably seemed insane, I tried to apologize through the huffing and puffing that came with the combination of my weird rage and trying to sustain this difficult pace.  

"Just keep running," said the guy.

So I did.  And on the next straightaway on Wedgewood Drive, I passed him, never looking back.  I was angry at both him and myself and I was now determined to use that energy because my third mile was 6:34 and I was losing that cushion I built up.

Halfway through...math time.  If I did the first three miles in 18:37, that means that if I can do the second three, plus the extra two-tenths, in 21:22 and get in under 40.  Buuuuuuut, if I were to do it in 20:22, that would get me in under 39!  When was the last time I did that??  Is that actually possible today???

After four more turns there was another straightaway, then two more turns around another block and another straightaway.  I used those to pick up the pace to a 6:17 fourth mile.  That is 24:54 for four miles.  I would need about 75 seconds at the end for the last two-tenths of a mile, so I had just shy of 13 minutes to do two miles in order to finish under 39.  In less than 25 minutes, my crazy brain radically shifted my goal downward by more than a minute.

After going back up Elmwood, I was in a solid ninth place.  A couple more turns led to a small but significant enough hill to feel jarring after all the previous flat terrain.  Just as I was thinking how rough that was in the fifth mile of a 10K, a female voice from behind me said it out loud, "Well, that's just rude!"

I had already known that the first-place woman was trailing me because I heard people cheering for her behind me.  And, I expected she would pass me because she was coming in hot.  What I did not expect was that as she came up to do so, she said, "Dan?!"

I turned my head to see the one and only Sarah Schillaci, an old co-worker with whom I ran many races in the late '00s and early '10s.  Well, I did not so much run races with her as much as I ran races chasing her.  And after hitting mile five with a 6:22, here I was again, like old times, trailing Sarah and eating her dust.

Most importantly, though, all I had to do was get around the last few turns and onto that straightaway home stretch on Ring Road, and I needed to hit that sixth mile with no more than a 6:20 if I had any chance of busting that 39 barrier.  Time to make like it was 2011 and try to catch Sarah.

With a 6:19 at the six-mile marker, I had around 80 seconds to get to that finish line, which was already in sight, if I wanted a 38 on that clock.  

I pushed hard as I watched Sarah cross the finish line, breaking the tape they set up for her as the first female finisher.  And then, I could see the clock ticking away the last few seconds of the 38th minute. Somehow, I managed to cross the line at 38:59, making it my fastest 10K in seven years, and my third sub-39 ever.  Unreal.

Of the 245 total runners, I came in 10th, taking 9th among the 138 men and finishing first of the 21 guys age 45 to 49.  For that, I received a lovely medal in addition to the nice long-sleeve t-shirt.

Oh, and that guy I yelled at - I found him after the race and apologized again.  We chatted for a while and he turned out to be a really nice guy.  This is truly the sport with the best people.

My own personal 10K - Pompton Plains, NJ - May 17, 2020

The way things have been going, who knows if the hypothetical half-marathon for which I have been training will be anything more than that.  But in the meantime, the schedule for Hal Higdon's Advanced half-marathon training program said I have to run a 10K, so it was time to select another old race to re-run.

For this one, I chose the Apple Chase 10K in Pompton Plains, which I ran on May 4, 2013.  I remember it being notable because it was the first time I met North Jersey's greatest runner, Rob Albano (who, of course, won the race), and also because it was where I achieved my PR, thanks to the super flat course that had nothing even resembling a hill.

There was no illusion that I would come even close to that 38:19 record, nor did I even think I could match the 39:34 result from the Grand Prairie, Texas, race from only five months ago.  No, my speed game has gone quickly downhill this year, so there was no expectation that even a sub-40 was in the cards.

I studied the course map from CertifiedRoadRaces.com and set about to run the race late Sunday morning.  It was a pleasant 63 degrees and sunny, though a little breezy.  Starting with a first mile of 6:10 northbound along West End Avenue was encouraging, but my stamina quickly dropped in the second mile along Mountain Avenue and southbound along the Boulevard, with a 6:18.

Continuing into the wind, it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain even that pace, so my third mile was 6:36.  Even after turning onto Slingerland Avenue (now in the borough of Lincoln Park) and doing the quick out-and-back on Frances Road, things were not getting any better with a 6:38.

Ouch.  It was not that long ago - just a few years - when those splits were slow for a half-marathon, let alone a 10K.  I had to push with all my might along West Parkway to try to make some kind of improvement in the last two miles, especially since I was now heading north with the wind at my back.  All I could do in miles five and six, though, was maintain status quo with 6:37 and 6:32, respectively.

The last few tenths of a mile for the Apple Chase race are supposed to be on the grounds of Pequannock Township High School on Sunset Road, through the field gate and onto the track for a big finish (I love track finishes!).  Unfortunately, the gates were closed, so I had to turn around and finish the last quarter mile on the road, with a finish time of 40:10, which was around what I expected. 

I can only imagine what it would have been like if there were hills involved, but that is something to find out another day.  On this day, I ran the best race I could, as a 45-year-old in the early stages of post-PR life.  At this point, what matters most is that I keep putting in the effort.  I will keep training, I will keep racing, and I will keep posting times, official or not.

Chocoholic Frolic Dallas 10K - Dec. 8, 2019

"On your left!"

I honestly lost count of how many times I had to shout that during the second loop of this otherwise hassle-free 10K race, because by the time I was in the fifth mile, the walkers were on their second mile and the relatively narrow walkway did not allow for more than two or three across (and walkers seem to love to walk in great horizontal numbers).

But let us start at the start.

My wife, Gloria, and I had planned an early-December trip to Grand Prairie, Texas, to visit her dad and brother and I figured it would be fun to run a race there.  I found out about the Dallas Chocoholic Frolic 5K and 10K (which was actually in Grand Prairie) and decided that after doing five 5Ks in a row, it was time for my first 10K in two years.  

With its tremendous amount of speed work, Hal Higdon's difficult Advanced 10K program conditioned my body to be the best it could be on race day, which was a cool, breezy morning at the horse-racing venue, Lone Star Park, in Grand Prairie.  I looked around before the start of the race and saw some folks whom I was certain would be in the front of the pack - a couple of track kids, a long-legged lean woman, and a few other competitive-looking folks. So when the race started, I was surprised to find myself in front of the entire field.  

That is me in the blue-green shirt and black shorts, trying to open up my stride and push to the front at the start of the race when I realized the competition would be pretty soft. (Photo by Gloria Galioto)

Along the main driveway, up a ramp, and around a corner onto a pedestrian walkway on the outskirts of the park, I remained in first place through the first mile (6:06), following the lead bicycle and waiting for someone to eventually pass me.  

That someone never came.  I worked my way along the course to the sidewalk of the main road, on a narrow pedestrian walkway over a small bridge and hit mile two (6:26) before turning into the parking lot, heading back to the main building by the race track.  Still, no one was coming up from behind me.  I heard no footfalls or heavy breathing.  Nothing.  And I was about to finish the first loop.  I was ahead of everybody, including the 5K racers.

Coming into the finish area after mile three (6:22), I saw Gloria, who confirmed that there was no one even close to me, as well as her dad and brother, cheering me on.  

Damn, I essentially won the 5K and I was about to run the loop again.

The next mile (6:16) was in complete solitude.  No one behind me, no one in front of me. 

But then I hit the crowd of walkers in their second mile.  They were walking three or four across, as they tend to do, and that is when the constant shouting of "on your left" began.  It was tough enough to breathe while trying to keep up my race pace; having to yell at people to move did not help.  Surely, these folks knew that some people were doing the loop twice, but I think I startled them with how quickly I had come around.  And so...

"On your left!" - and then the person moved left and I almost crashed into him.

"On your left!" - and then people pushing strollers next to each other awkwardly tried to get the strollers out my path, probably in fear of me plowing them right over.

"On your left!" - and no one moved.  "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Thus it went, over and over, for my fifth mile (6:38) until finally getting to the open parking lot, where some joggers were making their way through the last mile of the 5K.  I blew past them, too, hitting mile six (6:20) and pushing with all my might through the last two-tenths of a mile for the finish, where, once again, the family was there to cheer me into the finish line.  

Rallying to the finish, with no one behind me, to win the 10K. (Photo by Gloria Galioto)

The course may have ended up a little short - around 6.14 miles according to my GPS watch, which usually calculates most courses to be a bit long, so I knew something had to be up - and I finished with 38:54 on the clock, but I think it should probably be more like 39:34, still very much in line with my past few 10Ks.  I was hoping to squeak in under 41 minutes, and I handily came in under 40.

Indeed, I won the whole darn thing, with the next three folks neck-and-neck among each other, but almost a full two minutes behind me.  So, you know, this was not exactly the most competitive race.  Still, I find it funny that this is the third 10K that I have won overall.  I never felt like 10K was my best distance, but I must be doing something right.  In addition to lots of chocolatey goodies and a sweet Hershey Kiss-shaped medal, I received a $50 gift card to the local running store, to which we immediately went as soon as it opened.  I bought some light-up and reflective gear to bring home for my upcoming early morning in-the-dark training runs.

I went to Grand Prairie for a family visit and won a race.  Now, that is a vacation.  

However, while "this has all been wonderful, now I'm on my way" to start marathon training again.  

Storm King 10K

The race website for the Storm King Run in Highlands, N.Y., organized by the West Point - Highland Falls Rotary, has a link to the course description.  It reads "Hilly Contour Medium Difficulty". 

Friends, I have now run 86 races, so believe me when I tell you, this is a very loose definition of "medium difficulty".  It certainly was not the insane challenge of the Red Rock Canyon Marathon in Las Vegas or the Park City Marathon in Utah.  But as 10K races go, this was pretty rough.  

I am certain that the elevation chart on that webpage is incorrect, too, because it has the lowest point in the middle of the race. but that is thoroughly impossible because at the turnaround point of this out-and-back course, we were on top of an enormous hill with a breathtaking view of the Hudson River below us.  I know I did not imagine pushing with all my strength to get up that hill during that entire third mile.

Let me back up for a minute.  This was, in fact, a lovely and well-organized race.  It was also a small race, with only 93 runners in the 10K, 114 participants in the 5K, and a one-mile fun run for the kids.  There was also a contingency of West Point cadets running the race, which served as a reminder that we were, in fact, standing near the entrance gates to the prestigious military academy as the national anthem played before the beginning of the race. 

This being my first competitive race since February, I was a unsure of where I should place myself at the start. There were some dudes, young and older (meaning, my age), that looked pretty darn fit and ready, and here I was in the middle of half-marathon training coming off an injury.  So I planted myself two or three people deep.  Besides, a slower, steadier start would probably be good for me, especially if it was to be hilly.

The entire first half of the 5K was downhill.  As several people surged ahead on the decline, I hung back and let gravity do the work. After all, we had to do this mile and a half uphill on the back end.  To my surprise, most of the pack broke off at the 5K turnaround point and I suddenly realized I was in fourth place. The next half of the "out" portion of the route was rolling hills.  On one of the uphills, I made a move (as I tend to do) and overtook third place runner (44-year-old Phil Dacunto), and I even had the top two in my sight.  

That third mile uphill to the overlook, though, was a challenge.  I do believe it had to be around a 400-foot elevation gain, and as we climbed, I inched ever so much more closely to the second place runner (Logan Brady, 25).  As we rounded the top and made the turnaround, I passed him.  But he must have saved up a little more than I had for the downhill and he passed me again.

My brief moments in second place

Still, I remembered that confidence that I always had about making my moves on the uphills, though I wondered if I could keep doing it this time, having not done any real hill training. So things remained status quo as I simply tried to keep pace and not fall back from the fatigue I was definitely feeling. 

Passing by Gloria as she started to make her way up the big hill was a great pick-me-up, as always, but I warned her, "That hill is brutal!"

When it came time to tackle that last mile-and-a-half of upgrade, I had caught up to Logan, and said, "Well, this is going to suck."

I chugged up past him and never looked back.  I was in second place again and though I could see Dalton Martin (age 25) almost the entire time, I never had the slightest expectation that I could catch up to him.  Judging from his form, he seemed to be expending a lot less energy than I was.  I was at maximum effort; he still seemed like he had plenty of gas in the tank.

10K winner Dalton Martin, in charge and in control

I was practically running on empty as we approached the final mile, so not only was I slowing down, another contender was speeding up from behind both Logan and me.  As 32-year-old Matthew Lensing blew past me, I was jealous of how much he had managed to save up.  I was dying out there and he was cruising.  Look at the two photos below, taken a few seconds apart.  Matthew's form is perfect and he seems in complete control, whereas I am falling apart and my leg is swinging wildly.

Matthew Lensing - great form, strong finish

Me - gasping for air, dying inside, flailing about

Despite the agony of trying to charge up this punishing hill, I was extremely happy knowing that on my first race back from a too-long hiatus, I had not only tackled this course that was definitely more than "medium difficulty" at a competitive pace, but I would also be coming back strong with a brand new trophy.  

That was just what I needed to get my confidence level back up, and my finish time of 39:31, only mere seconds away from Matthew (39:07) and Dalton (38:57), is something of which I can be truly proud. 

As I said to Gloria (who finished with a respectable 1:04:19 for her first 10K!) when I collected my trophy, immediately she took this picture...

"I'm back, baby!"


Full results posted here: http://results.active.com/events/storm-king-run--6/10k-results

My first 10K - the SOCH Great Causeway Challenge

One could say I got bitten by the race bug rather quickly after my first race - so much so, that I was eager to not only run another race, but run a longer race.  Somehow, I landed upon the Southern Ocean County Hospital Great Causeway Challenge, a mere three weeks after my first race outing, 10 years ago today, April 22, 2006.

A decade hence, I have absolutely no idea what possessed me to drive 100 miles from Parsippany to Manahawkin by myself on a Friday night after work for a small 6.2-mile race early Saturday morning, with no plan whatsoever other than to run the race.  I drove around the area late Friday night looking for a place to stay because I had not even bothered to set that up in advance, finally happening upon the Barnegat Motel after swinging by the high school where the race would start the next morning.

Because I did almost no research, I found out that the event also included a 30-mile bicycle race.  There were about 60 people in the event, a third of which ran the 10K, with a third biking the 30 miles and the other third doing a biathlon.

I remember the start at the school and a turnaround point in the middle, but honestly, I do not have much of a recollection of the race itself. I recall enjoying the surroundings despite the lack of supporters, volunteers, or even other runners.  I remember thinking that it was downright funny that I came in second place overall, simply due to lack of competition. But hey, I got my first medal as a result!

But most of all, I had accomplished a new feat. Sure, I was already doing eight-mile training runs, but increasing the race distance soon was a big deal. In the coming months, I would do some more 5Ks and up the distance yet again. And by the summer, I would also start writing a blog about it.

Sprint for Soldiers 10K

I won this race.

I wanted to get that out of the way first because it was one of the many things that did not go the way I had hoped or planned. That was just a happy accident. Not much else went well for me during this race in Tarrytown, N.Y., on the grounds of the beautiful Lyndhurst Mansion. 

I know what you are thinking - "Daniel, are you really going to complain about a race that you won?  What more do you want??"  (That is pretty much what my mother said.)

Truth be told, what I wanted was to run the race for which I trained (that old mantra again).  I wanted to run hard, give it maximum effort and be proudly spent at the end.  I wanted to feel confident and triumphant as I increase my race distances post-injury.  No PR necessary, just a positive feeling that I got something good out of the hard training I put into it.

Instead, on this hot, sunny Aug. 2, I was faced with a challenging course (mostly trail with four big hills), a small field, minimal course markings, and bare-bones staffing. 

Because there were so few runners, I planted myself at the front of the start line.  The beginning was too easy - downhill on a paved path...but then, what was that turnoff with the cones to my left? Was that where the course went?  Did I already blow it? 

The guy behind me saw my hesitation and shouted, "Keep going straight!"  Knowing I was going too fast down the hill, I pulled back a bit and let the kid pass me.  Figuring he knew where he was going, I followed his lead.  After a steep, crushing uphill, the kid led us off the paved path and behind a building to the dirt trail. 

Prior to the race, I jogged part of the course, so the one thing I knew was location of the first mile marker at the start of the trail, and somehow, we had missed it - we entered the trail too far into it.  I knew something was wrong, but what could I do at that point?  I continued along the rocky, uneven trail toward the turnaround point and hoofed it back along the trail and past that first mile marker we missed earlier, followed by an uphill that led back to the paved path. 

The kid and the other guy near us all continued to the finish - they were doing the 5K.  I had no idea of my pace (there were no other mile markers), I was alone in the lead for the second loop, my spirit was crushed by the wrong turn that would provide an inaccurate result, my legs were burning from those two big hills, my mind was psyched out at the prospect of having to do those hills a second time, and the fatigue I felt was more like the 20th mile of a marathon rather than the usual muscle-shredding feeling of short races.

Going much slower on the second loop, I was at least able to appreciate the view of the Hudson River on this clear day and followed the paved path up the hill, in *front* of the building, around to the dirt turn-off that led to that first mile marker and back on the trail.

Pushing through miles five and six along the trail, I was fading quickly. I knew I should go faster. I thought I COULD go faster. Instead, I grunted and groaned as my back ached and my legs refused to increase their turnover up the last hill and into the finish, where the clock said 38:15.

Knowing that was wrong, I found the second place 5K guy - he had a GPS watch and said we accidentally sliced off 3/10 of a mile with that wrong turn. So with some extrapolation, I'd say my time was around 40 minutes, which is about a 6:30 pace. That is far, far off from 6:17 for which I had trained.

So yes, I won. But it felt hollow because sometimes the only person with whom I compete is myself; and in that race, I lost.

But I am not disappointed. I gave it my all, continuing to push past my injury. Plus, with the money going to the Wounded Warrior charity, it was for a good cause.

I guess my mom inadvqrtently had a point. What more could I want?