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!>

My fourth 5K - Hoboken, N.J., July 31, 2006

Ten years ago this summer - July 31, 2006, to be exact - I ran my fourth 5K.  Here is my report from that race, as posted on my old blog:

The start of the 5K race in Hoboken on July 31 came unexpectedly. I heard no starting gun, no air horn. I didn’t even hear a “Go,” let alone an “On your mark” or a “Get set.”

I had finished my second trip to one of the four port-a-johns provided for the 600-plus runners (do a little math and you’ll find that if each person used the john once, that’s more 150 uses per john...ewww), when I noticed everyone ambling toward the starting line; I had no idea where that line was, but at some point the throng stopped, so I guess that was it.

While the fearless Herald News trio (Tim, Carolina and me) discussed our strategies, we suddenly realized everyone started moving. “Oh! We’re running!” was the last thing I said before I took off.

Figuring I had to make up a few seconds to get to my desired part of the pack, I started faster than usual. My iPod’s refusal to work meant I had only my breathing and the sound of sneakers on blacktop to set my rhythm. I settled into a decent pace, noticing I was still passing people.

There were no mile markers and no pace clocks. The only guide we had was the halfway turnaround, and even then, there was nothing indicating how long it had taken us to get there. I was wearing no watch, and I had no music by which I could even estimate how fast I was going. I felt okay, but what if I came out too quickly and had nothing for the end?

This probably happens to many a novice. In my first few races, I got used to having clocks at each mile; a big help in knowing if I needed to pick up the pace or ease back a bit. Without it, I felt lost, wondering if I was going too fast or too slow.

The articles I read about training for races often refer to running at “your 5K race pace.” Well, I’m new to this, and I have no idea what my 5K race pace is, especially if I’ve got no form of chronometer measuring it for me. So, I kept going, still passing people up, thinking “This is the pace I’m running. It’s a 5K. So, this must be my 5K race pace.”

By the third mile, still making my way past more runners, I wasn’t feeling as good. Breathing the hot July air felt more like breathing sand. Maybe I was running too fast, after all, and I’d peter out soon. But the third mile is not the time to slow down so I pushed on, and by the time the finish line was in sight, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was still a “20” on the clock! As in “minutes”! As in “Wow, I’m going to set a personal record!”

With the last of my energy I mustered up a sprint that took me into the finish line at 21:01, 52 seconds faster than my last PR, which was only three weeks before. Despite the pain from having to stop short after a big sprint (why don’t they allow for a longer space to slow down?), there’s nothing like that kind of thrill. Later, I looked at the results sheets to find that my pace was 6:48. So that's my race pace.

However, I learned a few things from the experience:

1. It’s probably better to know how fast your pace is before running the race, even without clocks. If you train properly (which I don’t), you’ll probably feel your pace (thus, I don’t).

2. Don’t assume you’ll be provided with any markers or clocks. If actual pace times are important, wear a watch. Or, use the music. Despite the malfunctioning of my nine-month-old iPod Shuffle, I still recommend it because it’s lightweight, easy to use and cheap.

3. If it feels good, do it, but be prepared to pay for it later with aches and pains. At least you’ll have that PR of which to feel proud!

Post-race triumph

Tim and Carolina