This was a 10K I ran in Pittsburgh. Things went almost as well as I would have liked. Here's what I thought of it in 1995:

The Saturday before the race I left Lafayette, IN at 8:00am and drove to Pittsburgh. My deadline was 5:00pm, when the race expos closed, so I had to make decent time. I made it to the expos by a little after 4:00pm.

Inside I quickly got my number: 288. On the way to the t-shirt tables I was stopped by a guy admiring my 100th Boston Marathon jacket. Sure I wore it in sort of a name dropping way, so what? He told me he had run Boston also, but didn't set a PR like he had wanted. Sort of bragging, I told him I didn't think the crowds were that bad and it only took me 45 seconds to get to the starting line. He one-upped me by agreeing that the start wasn't that bad and it only took him 25 seconds, but by the time he got to two mile it was already 12:40 and he knew it wasn't going to be his day. Okay, so he was faster than me, at least I knew that now. He didn't look particularly fast though, he wasn't skinny or small.

On the way to get t-shirts we stopped at a table to get bus tickets and he pulled out his number, it was 202, so he was 86 people faster. Oh well, there were a lot of people who were lower seeds than me, I was still happy to be seeded at all. Still it would have been nice to be talking to someone slower. As I departed the expos we shook hands and wished each other luck. He told me his name, but I forgot it at the time.

I made my way to a hotel and found dinner and went to sleep pretty early. I was tired from the previous evening's late night of paking and the long drive and wanted to get up early for the race. Originally I set the alarm for 6:00am, but the race didn't start until 9:30am, so I reset it for 6:45am. I woke up before the alarm, but laid in bed watching the weather channel for a while. It looked like it would be a good day, not raining and not too hot.

My plan was to drive to the finish, park and then take a bus to the start. Of course my vast experience in driving in Pittsburgh suggested otherwise. Before I knew what was going on, I had managed to drive to the starting line a full two hours before the race. There were plenty of parking spaces right by the park, so I developed a new plan. My new plan was to park at the start and then run back to the car from the finish. That way I'd get in a nice six or seven mile cooldown.

After parking I checked out the starting area, it was pretty much the same as last year. Then I walked around a bit and watched people file into the start of the race. When enough time had passed, I started my warmup jog. I didn't want to run a full 20:00 like in Brookston for fear of sucking like I did that day. But I wanted to get in a decent warmup. I ended up with a 16:30 jog though the surrounding neighborhoods. My run was followed up with 30:00 of stretching. By this time it was getting to be around 9:00am and all the Gatorade I'd drunk had made its way though my system. So I headed to the starting area and into the seeded runner's bin. Pretty nifty to get i. It was filled with lot's of fast looking people, and me.

The lines to the port-o-potties was small and I got in and out in record time. Now all I had to do was keep loose, turn in my sweats and put on my racing flats. A lot of people were running in circles around the starting area so I joined them. After a few laps I decided to stretch some more. My legs were a bit tight and I thought maybe I'd warmed up to early. When the volunteer started yelling at us, I took off my sweats and put on my racing flats. After turning in my bag I got in a few striders before we were herded into place. I felt pretty good and not tired.

In the minutes after the wheel chair racers took off I walked around trying to keep loose and stay calm. It was during this time I started seeing a muscle head guy who looked really familiar. He had no shirt and no hair and he had a black mask painted around his eyes. He looked a lot like the muscle head guy who had started in the same bin as me in Boston. That guy had taken off fast, moving off well ahead of me. But around mile 25 I caught him and we dueled for a mile and a half before I put him away and told him to go back to the weight room. The more I saw the guy here the more I wondered if it was the same guy as in Boston.

Just as I headed towards him to ask him if he'd run in Boston he said "Hello Jim." It turned out he was the same guy that I had talked to the day before. He'd had a hat on so I couldn't see that he was bald and he'd been wearing so many clothes that I couldn't tell he was a muscle head. I asked him if he'd run around a 2:55 in Boston and he said he had, and then I asked him if he'd started in the third bin. He told me he'd been there too. I told him I remembered him from the bin and the finish, but I resisted talking a little trash about the finish. He told me his name again was Paul Dunleavy and that he always painted something on his head to get on television. He'd made it on ESPN a few times.

He also told me he hadn't been training so much and was only trying to break 36:00. Okay, so I'd been training a lot and was trying for the same thing, great. But I took solace in my solid thumping of Big Paul in Boston at the big race. Maybe he would beat me in a puny 6.2 mile race, but let's talk about the big time and add an extra 20 miles and then see what happened in head to head competition. Anyway now my strategy would be to stay close and then either try to out kick him or just not lose by too much and run a fast race that I would be happy with.

When the gun went off the crowd surged forward. I went with the flow and darted in and out of the crowd trying to keep a fast steady pace. As we made our way through the first mile I tried to cut the corners tight and work the hills and keep fast, though not take it out too hard. Brookston taught me not to sprint the first mile and then die. Things were going very well. The only problem was that Paul wasn't cruising along and speeding away from me. I had gone away from him hoping he'd take off and then I wouldn't worry about him beating me. But he was almost plodding along. I felt like running a bit faster, so I pushed past him. Now I hoped he wouldn't cruise past me late in the race.

The first mile was a 5:40. Not so fast, but not so slow either. I'd kept the reigns in and managed not to get carried away and over work the first mile. The previous year I had managed only a 5:53 first mile, so I was ahead of last years pace. But it was early.

Now the down hills started and I pressed. I figured with only five miles left and this being down hill, I should push and take advantage of the downward slope since I now had less than five miles to cover without dying at the end. Mile two came in at 11:08. A 5:28 mile and I was feeling good. Usually my second mile is a lot slower than my first and I just try to keep from slowing down even more. But I was happy with my 5:34 pace through the first two miles. Last year I had run 11:32 and a 5:39 second mile, so I was not well ahead of last year's pace. Plus I hadn't seen Paul since I passed him. Maybe he stopped off at a gym along the way!

Mile thee didn't have any steep down hill to let me fly and I was getting a little wimpy. A few people passed me and I started feeling sorry for myself. Brookston was still in my mind and I started whining to myself. But mile three came only 5:56 after mile two, the time was 17:04 and I was on a 5:41 pace. I missed the 5k mark, but I figure I would have passed it at 17:38 for a PR. Again I was about 20 seconds ahead of last years halfway split of 18:05. But I was still feeling wimpy, at least mentally.

I started thinking about 6:00 miles and did the math to add on 6:00 to 17:04 and then worked to beat that. So I was working for under 23:04 for mile four. That would still be better than last year and a decent pace. When mile four came at 22:43, a 5:39 mile, I was happy to have sped up. Of course the huge elevation drop in that mile helped, but I wasn't complaining.

Then I remembered that you told me that every time you got tired in this race there was a nice down hill to help you out. I started having a little faith in myself. I still hadn't seen Paul. I guess he was busy with some important bench pressing.

Just when I started feeling good about myself and the race mile five and the long uphill loomed ahead. Last year I'd lost a lot of time because I didn't push hard on the down hill after the top. This year I was determined not to let that happen. I concentrated on that a lot and tried to do my little add 6:00 to the last mile time trick. So that would mean a 28:43 for mile five. That would be my PR for five miles and better than last year's pace.

With thinking all that, it was distressing to hear my five mile split was 28:53. Great a 6:10 mile. I knew last years fifth mile was over 6:00, but it had only been 6:05! Dammit what the hell was I doing. The only good thing was that there was no Paul and I wasn't being passed by a lot of runners. I'd kept my place pretty much since mile three. I was still on the best pace of my life and knew I had a big down hill to help me to the finish.

For six miles I was shooting for under 24:53. It should be easy with the big down hill and the mirrors along the last half mile or so. Plus some people were dying and were great to help me work a little harder to run faster. In the background I thought I heard someone shout my name. Since I didn't know anyone in town I figured it was for someone else, some other Jim. Then I thought it could have been Paul. But I wasn't looking back to see.

Pushing hard down the last hill and towards mile six lead to a 5:37 mile! 34:30 for six miles. Breaking 35:00 was out of the question, maybe next year, but a new PR wasn't and Paul wasn't passing me. None of the guys ahead of me were pressing too hard, so I started a big kick and managed to pass a few guys as I ducked under some balloons when cutting a corner closely.

The finish on the grass was really sloppy from flooding due to all the rain. But I kept my balance and stopped my watch at 35:34.54 as I crossed the finish line. A new PR by about 13 seconds and about 40 seconds faster than last year's time. And I hadn't seen Paul pass me. With the crowd being thin where I was running I was sure I would have seen him. So I figured it was me, the skinny guy, two and Paul, the muscle head, zero.

My hopes were confirmed when I saw Paul in the finishing area. He said he was about ten seconds behind and yelling that he was coming to get me. Oh yeah, bring it on baby! We talked about the race and bit and got some food and water and then I made my way to the baggage claim. My next race was to get back to my car and then the hotel and get out before noon to avoid being charged for another day. I had found that there were busses back to the start, so I wimped out on my second six mile run of the day, but I didn't care since I'd set a PR and held off Paul.

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