Because I had been steadily building my strength back up from injury and Gloria was interested in doing more running, we decided to register for the Bolt 4 Ben Franklin Lakes Scenic Half Marathon taking place on Sept. 24 in Bergen County. This would be her third half-marathon and my 10th, but it had been years since either of us had run this distance.
In July, it seemed like a great idea on a far-off date. But as race day got closer, I did not feel ready.
It was a good thing the race was only about 20 miles away because the 8 a.m. start time and the logistics of parking in a separate location (an office complex with a big parking lot) and taking a bus to the start (the community center, with a tiny lot) meant getting up before the crack of dawn.
I tried to do my stretches and do a warmup jog on this cool, beautiful early autumn morning. But my tummy was in a knot and my mindset was leaning far toward the negative. Gloria tried to calm my nerves, saying that I did all the training - and did it well - and that I should trust that. After 11 years and 86 races, I should know that, but lately, each time it feels like this is the one that is going to break me.
As we lined up at the community center on Vichiconti Way, I saw Rob Albano, with whom I have crossed paths at many races, all of which he won (this one included), and placed myself near the front of the pack. At the go signal, we were off and running, making a right turn on Pulis Avenue and another quick turn onto Old Mill Road, with gently rolling hills into the first and second mile markers, where I clocked 6:16 and 6:15.
[course map: http://files.constantcontact.com/52274958001/dfea1856-741e-4c46-8156-d2bb25c5509a.pdf]
My old mantra used to be "run the race for which you trained," but this time around, it was "run the race you are running today."
In other words, even though I did my training runs as if I was gunning for a 6:15 PR pace, I knew there was no chance for that on the hills of Franklin Lakes, and still recovering from an injury. So I ran what felt right; and if at any time that meant taking it down a notch, then I would readjust my goal...which is exactly what I did in the third mile, as we turned left onto Franklin Avenue and right onto Ewing Avenue, where the inclines got a little longer and tougher, causing me to hang back to a 6:37.
That was a little too slow for what I wanted to accomplish, so I picked it back up for a 6:20 and 6:24 around a couple of side streets and back onto Ewing and into the right turn onto High Mountain Avenue. "High" and "Mountain" are two words you do not want on the name of a street in a race. But I motored up the inevitable hill before turning left onto Scioto for more rolling hills and a 6:27 in the sixth mile.
By this point, Mr. Albano and the second and third place runners (Cole Dailey and Atilla Sabahoglu, respectively) were long gone and I was in fifth place behind Michael Miano.
The strangest part of the course came next - a short jaunt on a rocky, downhill bit of trail that was unnerving enough to slow me down to a 6:31 for the seventh mile as we turned right onto the pavement of Indian Trail, but by the time we turned left on Franklin Lake Road, I had overtaken Mr. Miano and secured a fourth place position, where I figured I would stay since the other guys were at least two minutes in front of me.
Clocking in Mile 8 with a 6:21, I was averaging a 6:24 pace and that seemed like a good place to stay, so my goal from there was to come as close to that average as possible for each successive mile - no slower, no faster.
Zig-zagging through a few residential side-streets (Walder, Farmdale, Oldwoods, Briarwoods, Bayberry, Woodfield and McCoy), I hit a 6:33 going uphill in Mile 9. I thought I would make up the difference in the downhill to the 10th mile marker, but a 6:27 was all I could muster, and I knew that meant I was losing steam. The old pain returning to my glutes was a pretty good indicator too, so with a 6:31 in the 11th mile on Colonial Road, I needed this race to be over soon.
I was down to a 6:26 average, and that was still pretty darn good, so it was time to readjust again and shoot to keep the last two miles in that ballpark.
But the turn from Colonial Road to a severe uphill on Franklin Avenue was soul-crushing, leg-destroying, pace-killing and race-ruining. I pushed with all my might, feeling like I might not even make it. The 6:48 mile felt like a slow crawl into despair. The terrain leveled off as we turned back onto Old Mill Road, but the damage was done. I was drained, gassed and completely kaput, and Mr. Miano seized that opportunity to pass me in the last mile, just before we turned on to a bit of paved trail that would lead us back to the community center and the finish line.
The trail had too many twists and turns. Winding around through the woods on a narrow trail is not conducive to anyone trying to pass the runner ahead or preparing to sprint to the finish. Of course, I was in no condition to do either of those things. Pushing as hard as I could, I checked in with a 6:56 in the 13th mile, feeling utterly miserable.
I finished only 10 seconds behind Mr. Miano for a fifth place standing and first in my age group - a genuine age group win, by the way, as all five guys in front of me were in their 20s and 30s. Not bad for a guy about to turn 43.
In the end, my pace averaged to 6:29, and my 1:24:56 resulted in the third best half-marathon of my life. Add to that a lovely metal water bottle emblazoned with the race logo as my age group prize and I would say it was a pretty successful day at a race that was well-organized with great signage (no getting lost!), excellent volunteers, and nifty swag (everyone got a medal!).
