This was a 10K I ran in Brookston, IN. Things went okay, but not nearly as well as I would have liked.
Here's what I thought of it in 1997:
Coming of a relatively easy 63 mile week and having taken it easy the
past week I figured to be rested for the race. But my legs didn't feel
particularly fresh. Tom Miller and I had done a 7:00 per mile five mile run Wednesday
and I'd done another hack run Thursday and then a recovery five miles Friday
with Tom, so it was at the top of my 120-140 heart rate range. In short, even
though I hadn't run a lot, I hadn't recovered a lot.
The next is that I'm still getting over the cold Njema Fraizer gave me. Last
week it got bad, then got better and then got bad last weekend. I was dragging
ass all week. Instead of the 44 ounces of Pepsi I drank 32 ounces of orange
juice each day. A lesser human would have been
in the hospital in intensive care.
On top of that I ate like crap this week. Twice I went to
McDonald's for my only meal of the day other than the orange juice. The other
days I managed to eat a bit healthier, but still not enough calorie wise. Again if I'd been a lesser human, I'd be dead, but
fortunately I have the strength of ten men, ten big men at that.
Saturday morning I awoke early and headed north to meet my destiny in
Brookston. I made it there a half an hour before race time and signed up and
got my t-shirt. After going on a ten minute warmup jog, I ran into Paul Loomis and we
looked for guys who were faster than us. There didn't look to be any guys like
that, so I was looking forward to walking away with the big BAP 10K trophy.
Some stretching and some more warmup and I was ready to roll.
The races started off with a group of us running together. I moved in
the lead, but not by much. Paul was with me as was another guy I didn't know.
We headed out of town and were moving at a decent clip. I didn't feel too bad,
but I wasn't feeling great. As we headed past the first mile the time was
5:30. Not super fast to kill myself, but not exactly taking it out easy.
Paul and the other guy were with me, but I was in the lead. I was
hoping that Paul would stay with me and tire out and I would walk away with it.
Just about then the guy I didn't know took off. I figured that second place
would be okay because he was really moving. Then he turned around at the 5K
halfway mark. Maybe the trophy would be looking good in my apartment.
Mile two came up in 11:23. We'd slowed down a bit, but we were
moving to the rolling hills of the course. Paul was still on my shoulder and
made a comment that we were way out in front by ourselves. Looking back on it,
being the leaders was a lot of fun. But during at the time all I could think about was the race and winning and
holding off Paul. I was happy with the pace, but tried to press a little. My
legs felt dead and I didn't think I had much of a kick for the end. So I hoped
that Paul would be getting tired running a bit faster at the start than he
did last year.
In the Purdue CoRec 8K he wasn't around me and I ran about a minute faster
than him, so I thought that he would drop. At least I was hoping that it would
happen soon. I was getting tired and concentrated on keeping ahead of him. At
the half way point I was still ahead and we ran right around 18:00. That made
me feel good thinking I could run a 36 minute something 10K. When we finished
the 180 degree turn I changed my mind.
We were running head into Hurricane Nora. The wind had been at our
backs and now it was in our face, slowing us down quite a bit. The smart thing
for me to do would have been to let Paul lead and tuck in behind him and draft
as much as I could. Of course I couldn't do the smart thing and run behind him, so I kept in front.
He'd pull ahead and then I'd move ahead. Each time I was hoping that he would
drop, but he would always stayed right with me.
The wind was getting
to me and psyching me out a bit. But I pushed and kept hoping Paul would fade.
Four miles came up at 23:53. The wind over the long straight away had really
slowed our pace. I was hoping that on the down hills I could press and move
ahead for good. But I could never move out and Paul would lead on the up
hills. That didn't seem like a good sign, so I pushed hard on one hill and
lead Paul all the way up.
Around that time Paul made a break. He pulled ahead and I followed him.
Not too long after that I was back in front again. I was hoping that had been
Paul's surge and that he was finished and that I had met his challenge. About
a minute later he moved out again.
This time he did so with enough strength to get about out in front by
five seconds. I couldn't answer that and just tried to press and not lose any
more ground. I missed the split at mile five and at the one mile to go point.
Paul was now about 15 seconds ahead and I was pushing as hard as I could. Part
of me was thinking I was a wimp, so I pressed and worked a little closer to
Paul. A cramp shot into my side and I was happy to be hurting, it felt like
proof that I hadn't wimped out. In the last half mile I got a little closer to
Paul, but I didn't have a chance at all. I ended up running a 37:22 and Paul
ran a 37:13. Nine seconds doesn't seem like a long time, but it wasn't close.
Back to the Running Vita of James B. Elliott