The truth of the matter is this: speed training works.
Even now, at a point when I am on the downswing and dealing with the reality that there will be no more PRs, doing the speed work still yields results.
Case in point: This fourth and final race of the PCTI series ended up being my best of the bunch, likely because I have been hammering out 400s, 200s, tempo runs and 5Ks for the past three months.
While I was immediately ready for it to be over as soon as this fourth installment started, I felt good about keeping my leg turnover consistent after the initial downhill. Even the first big uphill did not feel like it took the wind out my sails the way it had in the previous races, so I was able to cruise into the first mile at 5:50, as I pushed from fifth to fourth place, passing Walter Hass (who quietly exclaimed, "Shit!" as I did so. Sorry young Walter, the old guy passed you again.).
The steady incline before the second big descent slowed me down, but the downhill gave me a boost. The grunting and moaning started just before I hit the second mile marker at a 5:58, finally passing Anthony Bertollo and reclaiming my third place position once again.
I was more than ready for this nonsense to end, yet somehow, my legs managed to push up the last big hill. I knew I needed to gut it out for only five more minutes. It hurt, but it was almost over.
Digging into any reserve I could tap and extending my legs as much as possible, I hit mile three with an even 6:00, and mustered the best sprint I could. I finally hit the finish with an 18:53 (which would have been 18:27 if the course was not too long at 3.17 miles).
At this point, I will take any race with a sub-6 average pace, so in addition to the beautiful trophy I took home for winning my age group, I consider this a personal win for my first and last 5K series.
"Never again," I told Rob Albano, the perennial and inevitable winner of this (and every) race. He told me he said the same thing after his first series.
We runners are gluttons for punishment, so I guess might, against my better judgment, end up doing this again next year.
I was more than ready for this nonsense to end, yet somehow, my legs managed to push up the last big hill. I knew I needed to gut it out for only five more minutes. It hurt, but it was almost over.
Digging into any reserve I could tap and extending my legs as much as possible, I hit mile three with an even 6:00, and mustered the best sprint I could. I finally hit the finish with an 18:53 (which would have been 18:27 if the course was not too long at 3.17 miles).
At this point, I will take any race with a sub-6 average pace, so in addition to the beautiful trophy I took home for winning my age group, I consider this a personal win for my first and last 5K series.
"Never again," I told Rob Albano, the perennial and inevitable winner of this (and every) race. He told me he said the same thing after his first series.
We runners are gluttons for punishment, so I guess might, against my better judgment, end up doing this again next year.
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