Last year's Turkey Burnoff was one of the best days of my life. Not only had I never run 5 miles before that day, I had never even finished a 5K (3.1 miles) without walking. When I arrived at that race, I had no idea whether or not I could run the whole thing. I remember suffering through the first 3 miles, and then reaching a point where I knew I had run further than ever before. That realization pushed me to the 4-mile marker, where I decided that I had come way too far to give up. The last mile was brutal, particularly since more than half of it was up a steep hill, but I was determined. When I crossed the finish line in under an hour, I was absolutely elated. I called friends (who were probably still asleep) and left jubilant messages. Then, I took myself out for a big lunch and did some early Christmas shopping at Ikea, where I was still grinning from ear to ear as I stood in line for the requisite 45 minutes. People must have thought I was crazy.
Given that great experience, I was really looking forward to running the race again this year. I even planned to up the ante- the Turkey Burnoff has both 5 and 10 miles options and I decided to go for the latter. I had visions of running along through the beautiful scenery, wiping tears from my eyes as I reflected on how far I had come in just one year.
That's not exactly what happened.
Upon arrival at this year's race, I noticed a few changes from last year. First, the port-a-johns had been moved away from the registration/finish area and into the grassy field where we parked (this will be important later). Second, the start line/turnaround spot had also been moved from the registration area to a spot a little way away, up a small hill. Finally, the registration procedure had changed. Last year, runners specified at registration whether they planned to run 5 miles or 10 miles. This year, they did away with that step. The 10-mile race is just a two-loop version of the 5-mile race, so we would each decide at the turnaround whether to run across the 5-mile finish line or head out for the second loop. In a way, this final change was good for me. Having had trouble with my knees in last week's 10K, I liked knowing that I could stop at 5 miles if that issue flared up again. On the other hand, I knew that, even if my knees were fine, I would have to face the huge temptation of crossing the finish line after 5 miles.
What had not changed from last year was the small parking lot. I heeded MCRR's dire warnings and arrived a good hour early in order to secure a parking spot. It was freezing, so after I registered, I (along with most of the other runners) retreated to my car to stay warm. While there, I finished my morning coffee and drank a cup or two of water. Not wanting this to haunt me during the race, I made two trips to the port-a-johns, including one only minutes before the start. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.
The race started at 10am. By 10:10, I already felt the need to go to the bathroom again. The race is through a state park, where there are bathrooms at least every half-mile. Unfortunately, none of them were open. When we reached the first one, I jogged halfway up the hill leading to it when another runner met me coming back down and just said "locked." This procedure repeated itself at least 3 more times over the first 5 miles. As we approached the bathrooms, I would look up hopefully, only to see another runner pulling on the door and finding it locked. When there wasn't anyone there, I would run up myself and find that I had wasted a trip. I lost a good 3-5 minutes this way.
When we hit the 4-mile mark, I assessed my options. My knees were hurting a bit, and I had realized that the only bathrooms were the port-a-johns, which would be a decent distance from the course at the turnaround point. I could just end my race at 5 miles, hit the bathrooms, and grab some lunch. Or, I could take the Advil I had in my pocket, suck up the lost time hitting the port-a-johns, and head out on the second loop. Immediately, this turned into one of those moments where running is a metaphor for life. Would I give up, take the easy way out, or keep going? What would Bob and Jillian do? What would Dr. Murray do? The answer was obvious: I had to keep going.
So, at five mile, I jealously watched most of the runners around me head for the finish line as I headed across the parking lot to the port-a-johns. As I mentioned earlier, the parking lot was in a field of thick grass, and I quickly realized that I could not safely run through it. So, I lost at least another 5 minutes walking there and back. When I finally got back to the turnaround spot, there was nobody there. Literally. Even the aid station was un-manned: the volunteers had just left cups of water sitting out. It was at this point that I realized that almost all of the middle and back-of-the-pack runners (like myself) were stopping at 5 miles. Apparently, the 10-miler was just for the elites (who were already finished) and a few crazy, slow souls like myself. It was going to be a lonely second loop.
For the next five miles, undistracted by the need to use the bathroom, I became acutely aware of just how hilly the course was. For some reason, I only remembered the big hill at the end of last year's race. I somehow forgot about the million or so small and medium-sized hills throughout the rest of the course. I will not forget them again! The second 5 miles were tough. Having lost so much time looking for bathrooms, I knew that I was going to post my worst 10-mile time to date, and being all alone on the course only reinforced the feeling that I was coming in last. Crossing this year's finish line (at 1:55) was more about relief than elation. It didn't help that the first thing I saw was volunteers packing up tables and handing bags of bagels to the handful of runners still hanging around. I was tempted to yell "Don't mind me. I'll just see myself out."
Still, despite a less-than stellar-performance, I'm happy that I pushed through, and even happier when I think about all of the progress I've made over the last year. See you next Thanksgiving, Turkey Burnoff!
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