The TRRC 25K, again

The Toledo Road Runners Club 25K at Oak Openings was yesterday. I ran it last year in preparation for Glass City and this year it aligned almost perfectly with my CLE training plan. I needed to do 14 miles yesterday, so I figured, "What the hey?" to an additional 1.5.

The race is only available to Toledo Road Runners. I joined the TRRC last year because someone convinced me that it was worth it for the discounted and free races, the 25K being one of the latter. Last year I ended up never using the club discount at any races, and the only free race that I ran was the 25K. Would it be worth it to renew my membership for $20 just to run the 25K again? My brain said "no," but I planned to get in at least 14 miles yesterday and if I were to choose to race, I'd get a shirt out of it.

To prepare to race on Sunday morning, I was well-behaved on Saturday night. I made a delicious, light pasta dish at home for me and Joe--shrimp sauteed in a spicy infused olive oil with chopped basil and chives, tossed with angel hair pasta and topped with freshly shaved parmesan, served with a salad of red romaine in a homemade balsamic vinaigrette. We split a bottle of Savignon Blanc, watched Evil Dead (true love is what we have), and then I was asleep on the couch by 10:00 (while Joe watched Evil Dead again, this time with the audio commentary on).

I woke up around 7:15, bundled up for the 16° air, and was out the door around 8:10 for the 30-minute drive to Oak Openings. It seemed like there were significantly fewer runners than last year's race, but I saw a lot of familiar TRRC faces--the self-proclaimed "Nerd Herd"; the floozies who wear Newtons and always have new, matching outfits for every race; the tall, lanky, dudes who race for the local running stores and are so hardcore that they wear the short shorts even when it's 16° outside. I renewed my membership, registered, and got my shirt. I thought it couldn't get worse than last year's.

2012: Puke green.

2013: I never make copies in this color.

Same creative unique Microsoft Paint design. Same practical normal old man sweatshirt (but the interior is so soft!). Worse color? Still up for debate. Joe says that last year's puke green is way worse than this year's goldenrod. I think he just prefers this year's color because it tugs at his heart strings like the gold and blue of the Toledo Rockets.

Anywho, after throwing my shirt into my car and pacing about trying to warm up, the race was underway at 9:05. No bibs, no mats, and no timing chips for this little race. Just we runners and some old dude yelling "Go!" I had a plan to run smarter than last year. Instead of going out doing sub-8s, this year I intended to stick around 8:30 for the entire race. After all, I wasn't chasing any award (do you think they'd give any kind of award when the race budget only allows for that gem of a shirt up there?). I just needed to run my 14 miles for training. A PR would be a bonus.

I went out about 25 second faster per mile than I had planned. The first mile follows the road out of the metropark and takes runners past a couple of horse farms, and my gaiter couldn't protect me from a solid whiff of horse poop straight to the face. The pack thinned out quickly and once we were out of the park and onto route 295 (boring, straight, windy country road), we were running pretty much single-file in the shoulder of the road. I passed a few people in the next couple of miles before turning onto another boring, straight, windy country road and making it to some water. Rinse and repeat. The route isn't terribly interesting. Actually it borderlines on terribly boring. It's pretty much a figure-8 that you run twice. Running past that Mile 10 sign when you're really only at about 2.5 sucks, but it feels awesome when you've only got 5.5 miles to go.

Mile 10 was where I started to feel really good; I was almost certain that I'd PR, as long as I didn't crap out. That last 5.5 kinda flew by and I didn't find myself doing my usual countdown to pass the time. When I turned onto the final straight-away, which is about a mile, I felt unusually positive. Instead of thinking, "I am so glad that I am almost finished," I was thinking more along the lines of, "I could do a few more." I finished in 2:09 to PR, some old dude handed me a popsicle stick with the number 36, I handed it off to another old person who recorded my number, and I turned the corner to walk to my car.

Here's the comparison between last year and this year:

Oh, AND Joe surprised me. He just missed my finish, because he was busy running 10 miles at home, but he did meet me halfway to my car with a bagel from Barry's and a chocolate milk. What a dude, right? I like him.

As it turns out, I was the 32nd finisher, despite getting popsicle stick number 36. Official time: 2:09:30.