Great Swamp Spring Distance Classic 15K – Basking Ridge, NJ - June 7, 2020

The official race date was a week or two prior, but I ran this official course as part of my coronavirus-era series of “races” to keep myself training hard and racing regularly.  Almost as sad as the fact that these terrible times call for such a strategy is the fact that my abilities continue to decline.  If 2019 began the slide from peak performance, 2020 has sealed the deal with an exponential decrease.

This is a stone cold fact that you never read in any running book or article: When it comes to speed and stamina, you lose it much more quickly than you attain it.

I have been running for 15 years.  It took me 11 years to get to peak speed.  I maintained it, with some minor fluctuations, for about two years.  And in the last two years, I have already dropped to almost the levels at which I started.  That is a brutal blow to the psyche; a bruise on the ego.

But let us get to the matter at hand – the 15K in Basking Ridge (where Phish's Page McConnell spent his childhood!).  My last 15K was on the hills of Block Island in 2016, where I inexplicably, unbelievably achieved a PR of 58:22.  Less than four years hence, on a mostly flat course, I could not even come close.

Starting at the official line, spray-painted on the pavement, I headed east on Lord Stirling Road. The first mile was great (6:18) thanks to an early downhill.  Having rested the day before, my legs felt fresh.  I was glad I had studied the course map, because the first turn was on Carlton Road which has no street sign.  Thankfully, though, the turnaround point on that road was spray-painted on the pavement.  

I hit mile two with a more realistic (though slightly disappointing) 6:33.  But I figured that was a good place to be this early on in the race, knowing that for a 15K, it is important to keep some gas in the tank.

Before turning onto Lord Stirling again to continue eastbound and hitting the mile 3 mark (6:30), a fellow on a bicycle (there were a lot of those out there that morning) passed me and said, “That’s quite an aggressive pace you’ve got going.”

I wanted to be able to explain that I was trying my best to run races while there were no actual races happening and that this was one of the courses, all I could muster was, “Thanks.”

Still, if I could have stayed in that 6:30 range, I would have been happy, all things considered.  But by the time I made it to the mile 4 mark (6:44) on Pleasant Plains Road, I could feel it all unraveling.  It was getting warmer – sunny and approaching 70F – and I was getting fatigued already.  I was not even halfway finished.  I had to press on, though.  I had no choice – this was a race, after all.

After another well-marked turnaround I hit mile 5 (6:47) before turning eastward again on Lord Stirling.  With each successively slower mile, I was calculating in my head how much slower my overall pace was, and it was not making me happy.  I simply had to push harder.

For a little while, it worked.  I hit the mile 6 mark with a 6:40 before the final turnaround that would send me back west on Lord Stirling with a straight stretch to the finish line for the final 5K.  I just had to keep pushing.

There was almost nothing left, though.  I gave it whatever I could - using every ounce of energy, trying to extend my legs as far as they would go – and I still came up with only 6:54 in both mile 7 and mile 8.  With a little more than a mile to go, I let it out whatever was left and managed a 6:39 in mile 9.

If that was the end of the race, my average pace would have been 6:39.  Nothing about which to write home, but understandable with the way things have been going.  But in that extra third of a mile at the end, I had to run up that hill that I went down at the beginning of the race.  It took me 2:42 to go that last three-tenths of a mile.  That is a 9:00 pace.  It was excruciating.

With a 1:02:23 final time, it was my slowest 15K with the exception of my first one in 2006 (1:09:38).  Since my second one was in 2009, with a 1:00:46, this means my ability has dropped to that of more than 11 years ago.  That is 11 years of improvement lost in only four years time – and not for lack of training, either.  I have been training exactly as much and as hard, only to see myself deteriorate rapidly.

It is frustrating and, like I said, it is something you never hear about.  Even with no major injury and no change in training, it all just falls apart when you get old enough.  

But does this mean I am giving up?  Not a chance.  July is half-marathon time.

My first 15K - Sept. 9, 2006 - Run Around the Block, New Shoreham, RI

Ten years ago, I participated in the Run Around the Block for my first 15K ever and my third time on Block Island.  Here is my report from that 2006 race:

The 31st Annual Block Island 15K, known as the "Run Around the Block", took place on Saturday. I had some doubts about running it -- I suffered yet another injury in my left leg only 8 days before (I think I pulled a muscle) -- but I was determined. This would be my longest race yet, and it would be the first time running more than nine miles since April.

I'd done a 10K, but wasn't ready for a half-marathon, so 9.3 miles was nicely in between. Plus, Block Island is a beautiful place. What runner wouldn't enjoy its scenery? This race was the perfect end-of-summer goal.

After three hours of sleep, three hours of driving to the ferry, and a nap on the hour-long ferry ride, I landed on Block Island and hiked to the starting line.

Yawning as I walked, it was not lost on me that the enormous hill I was climbing was part of the race course. This made me nervous, but I've done hill training; I felt ready.

What I did not expect was the entire course to be a series of hills. For 9.3 miles, the 424 runners were either trudging up inclines or hitting the brakes on sharp declines. We huffed, we puffed, some walked, some soldiered on. I refused to walk or even slow down. But at the 7.5 mile marker, when it was painfully clear that I had to either slow down or throw up, I relented and eased my pace a little, letting a few people pass me by and trying not to be discouraged.

I pushed hard up what I thought was the last hill, and knowing I had less than a mile to go, I let loose. The sadistic organizers of the run, however, made sure that after nine miles of painful, hilly torture, B.I.'s runners would face one last ridiculously steep incline before seeing the finish line. 

I don't how I gathered the strength to climb it, but once over the crest, I sprinted with all my might to the finish, to clock in with a result of just under 70 minutes.

Elated, relieved and nauseated, I rejoiced in having conquered something new. I received no medals or special recognition (and I don't expect I ever will, not even for my age group); those are for the elite athletes. I'm an everyday runner who finished his first 15K, proud of myself for setting a goal and beating it. 

That's the best prize of all. There are still more hills to climb in my journey, but today, I can rest, and bask in the glow of that achievement.

Run Around the Block 15K, New Shoreham, R.I., Sept. 10

Set on an island accessible only by boat or plane, with an uncommon distance and an afternoon start time, a more unique race than Run Around the Block 15K would be tough to find.

Block Island is still New England's best kept secret, though you would not think so when throngs of summer vacationers descend upon its shores. Off-season, though, it is a whole different vibe. I prefer to go in mid-May and mid-September, to take advantage of warm temperatures while avoiding the Memorial-Day-to-Labor-Day crowd.

September 10 brought sunny skies, temperatures in the mid-70s and lots of humidity - not exactly great racing conditions. Gloria and I took the shuttle bus from Water Street to the starting area near Fresh Pond, at the convergence of Center Street, Cooneymus Road and Lakeside Drive.  

Gloria, pre-race

We got there plenty early, not realizing that we would have to sit in the hot sun for an hour and a half before the start (our friends Tim and Mary Jane wisely took a cab and got there much later). Some runners found some shade under trees on the lawn of a resident who, thankfully, did not mind.


Shirtless and sweaty before the race even started, I did a mile warm-up jog before we headed to the start line. Considering the weather and the hilly course, I had my work cut out for me to get in under an hour (6:26 pace, despite my training to run 6:15s), so when the race began, I bolted out quickly.


The 15K and half-marathon are difficult distances. They are too long to spend time hanging back and plotting moves while the seconds tick away, but too long to start in high gear and keep the throttle up. And with an uphill in the first mile, I figured I would give it some gas and then lay off on the down hill. The top three leaders flew ahead and I was with a small group by the end of the Mile 1 which I surprisingly finished in 5:57.

I thought I was hanging back in Mile 2, yet I shocked myself further with a 6:03. But the Block Island course is nothing but hills - you are either going up or down, almost never on flat land - and Mile 3 was mostly uphill (though more gentle) along West Side Road. Still, the 6:21 was another pleasant surprise.

Also surprising was that I had pulled into fifth place, passing a young guy who looked fit for the event, but had gone off to the side, panting and hunched over. By the end of Mile 4 (6:20),  I was in fourth; and once I hit Mile 5 with a 6:04, the idea of not only finishing under an hour, but getting a PR on this ridiculous course seemed truly plausible.

I was on a 6:09 average pace, but I also knew the giant hill up Center Road near the airport in Mile 6 might be the deal breaker. Sure enough, 6:34. But with every uphill comes a downhill, so I quickly recovered and pushed myself into a 6:08 for Mile 7 as I came back to the Cooneymus Road intersection, bringing my average to 6:12 - still in PR territory (6:15).

Hitting those hills from the first three miles again, I was losing steam. I was overheating and my legs were getting fatigued. The same stretch that I had run at a 6:00 pace just a half-hour prior seemed like mountains now as I huffed and puffed my way through my slowest mile (6:36 for Mile 8).

Still in my fourth place position, I hit Mile 9 at 6:22. With an elapsed time of 56:25, I had just over two minutes to do almost a third of a mile. This was going to be close.


I had to get the last 1.3 miles closer to PR pace. If I was not so tired, I would probably have laughed at myself - an hour before, I was merely hoping for 59:59.  By Mile 9, I absolutely needed a 58:27.

The end of the course features an short, steep, crushing uphill toward Champlin's Marina, which gives way to an equal downhill into the finish line.  I mustered every last bit of energy I had to get up that hill - and it hurt - and then sprinted down with all my might, crossing the line at 58:22, five seconds faster than my previous 15K personal record.

My legs were in agony from the hills, but I was a happy camper and there was nothing left to do but cheer in Gloria and Tim to their triumphant finishes, and enjoy a nice, cold can of America...

America

Tim and me at the finish

Gloria and me, hoisting one more before leaving Block Island on Sunday - she prefers the Narragansett Lager, I like the Mohegan Cafe's home brews.

The standings

Back to the Block

Sometimes the racing schedule dictates the vacation. This time was the opposite. 

When I had settled on September for my annual sojourn to Block Island, and with Gloria to come with me for her first time there, it was obvious that a third go at the Run Around the Block 15K (I did it in 2006 and 2009) was in order. And Gloria, too, decided it would be a great way for her to end her summer of running.

Considering I had been crushing my short races all summer long, going back to truly conquer the hills of the very challenging course made sense. There was no way I could expect a PR on such a course, but I was dead set on doing it in under an hour, for it may very well be my last opportunity to do so. At 41, how much longer can this short-race hot streak last?

That meant continuing the intense speed training into a fourth month, and by the time September rolled around, I was spent.  My weekly 40-minute tempo runs and 400-meter and 800-meter intervals were taking their tolls on my body.  Never again, I thought. I can not do all this speed work anymore. It is is time to draw the line, appreciate what I have accomplished, and run for fun after this race is over.

Enduring rough seas that turned Gloria's stomach, we arrived on Block Island Thursday morning, Sept. 8, to overcast and dreary weather. 

After breakfast at the Topside Cafe, the sun was finally out, and the weather improved so greatly that we spent the early afternoon relaxing on the beach. 

Then, we rented bicycles, rode the four miles up to the end of Corn Neck Road and hiked to North Lighthouse, and the very tip of the island.  

It was probably not the best way to rest before a race, but it made for excellent cross-training and was a scenic treat for Gloria. It brought me tremendous joy to see her having such an wonderful experience at my special getaway place.  We had a big lunch at Los Gatitos and passed out for the rest of the afternoon, waking only in time to grab a quick drink at the Mohegan Cafe before it closed at 9:30 p.m. (It was a Thursday on the off-season, after all).

Friday was gorgeous as we ate breakfast on Crescent Beach and I swam in the cool but comfortable water. 

After exchanging the bikes for mopeds, so we could tool around the island without having to expend as much energy, we drove the race course to familiarize ourselves with the terrain. 

The memories of running all those hills came flooding back, and it freaked me out a bit. For the first time, I was nervous about this race. Could I maintain the 6:26 pace it would take to clock in under an hour? Sure, I did a half-marathon last year at 6:16, but that was pancake-flat. This, however, was a hilly beast with which to be reckoned.

Gloria assured me that I should trust my training and so there was nothing left to do but have a huge carb-filled dinner at the Poor People's Pub, where I devoured a skillet-full of delicious macaroni and cheese, and watch the sun set from Old Harbor.

With race time at 1:30 p.m. Saturday, at least we did not have to worry about early bedtimes and alarm-setting. That (and the mac and cheese) made for a much more rested pre-race sleep.

<up next...race day!>