To say I'm pleased would be a rather tremendous understatement.
I went in to this wondering about how my strange, somewhat lazy week of running would play out. I had a 10 and a 12 and then a couple of short runs, but I didn't run the day before, which, oddly, had been the original plan, but then in a panic I thought I must (which I didn't.) I conveniently forgot about the preceding 3 weeks that had me at 70-82-70 and saw a killer 20 miler 12 days before. Overthinking? Of course.
My history here is less than stellar, as the heat and the schedule never really favors me. I've run 38:19, (37:33 at Falmouth in the Fall, but that doesn't count, as though it's the same course, it's cool and there aren't 10,000 other people, some of whom tend to run rather quickly.) Still, each year it was always just a desperate hang-on for the last 3 miles. I never felt as if I was actually racing the whole race and I'd get dropped by at least 15 people every year, but that's Falmouth, it will not forgive even the slightest mistake in preparation or strategy.
I really felt as if I could run a low 37 with the shape I'm in, I just have to be smart about it.
I got there early, warmed up for 2.5, then warmed up for another mile before the gun. I ran into everyone I know; Jake, Jason L. and C., Riley, Pilcher, Kenny. We were all excited about the fact that it was actually below 75 and we had a breeze.
The field this year was stunning with Okari, Ramaala, Meb, and others (not to mention Tarpy and all sorts of local talent.) Cracking the top 50 was going to be that much harder this year, I thought, so I just focused on running a smart, tough race and getting my time right.
The week before at the Pub, I ran well but conservatively and left a little out there, running 5:17's. This was Falmouth; a tougher, longer course. I had to put it all out and another effort like last week would get 5:23's at best, and though that would still get me a PR here, I knew I was better than that now.
I stood next to Jake, thinking that though he's fast as hell, he'll go out smart, so I'll keep him in my sights.
The gun went and I got caught in a slow pack for a bit before I jumped to the sidewalk and passed some folks to drop in with Jason Lyon. I left him going down the hill and never looked back. I was ahead of the lead women and thought I'd better be smart about my pace, because I knew there were a bunch of people behind me being smart about theirs.
I went through 1 in 5:08; not too fast, not too slow. We hit the first hill going by the light and I figured "OK, here's the first test to see where my lungs and legs are going today." I powered up it pretty well and came off the top not needing as much recovery as I anticipated. I went flying down the other side, passing a bunch of guys and eventually went through mile 2 in 5:16.
"OK, that's with the hill, so just keep it up," I thought.
Mid-race is where one can really talk one's self right out of Falmouth, so from 3-5, I was going to be equal parts smart and tough about how I was managing my energy.
Just before 3, the lead woman went by me like I was standing still, and I briefly lost some confidence, but then realized she was just making a major move, as Edna Kiplagat, in 2nd at the time, went by me not nearly as quickly to try to hang with her. I caught up to Edna at 3 and went by her. She drafted off me for 30 yards or so, and then she was gone. I went through 3 in 5:15. Keep it up.
The beach is where many a Falmouth dream has died, as the sun, the flatness and any headwind can make one battle more than one would like, and stupid moves to keep pace here can really hurt. Luckily, we had a slight tailwind and I went through 4 in 5:11. Nice. This is where the miles and being smarter are paying off in any distance race I've been doing lately. I actually have strength later, which I never did before I started getting in to the 60-80/week range.
I slowed a touch from 4-5, as going back into town here was were I knew I needed to check myself before the final push and this was where I had my slowest mile in 5:19.
OK, now's where I have to find the oxygen, the blood and just go.
I made my legs push, every step. I could feel the acid build-up, I knew they weren't turning over as quickly as they had been at 2 or 3, but this is where I had to leave it all out here.
I started to crank and went through the 10k in 32:34, a gigantic PR over my 33:01 at Chatham a few years back. Peter Gilmore from BU came up to me at 6.5 and said "Let's go, man." And we did. We ran together to the hill, that horrible last hill that you have to wind around and hate life on because you just want to kick, but it's too early and this damned hill in exactly the wrong place is going to take it right away from you.
I flew up that thing. Gilmore was right with me and as we came off the top, we could see the big flag down at the finish. I raised my hands to get the crowd going and he did the same. They went nuts. I started to sprint 300 meters out and came flying down as fast as I could without crashing to the pavement. I saw the clock as I hit 100 meters "36:37, 36:38...." and realized "Holy shit, I'm going to break 37!"
I crossed the line and the last I saw of the clock read "36:51." Someone around 5 had told me I was in 44th place, and that was before I passed Paul Mwangi from Kenya, so I knew I'd at broken the top 50.
I walked through the end and talked with Gilmore and Charlie Meade before I saw Kristen and Corbin, who came down and made the day absolutely perfect.
I was spent, but in one piece. I had come and I had run exactly as I'd wanted, and then some. I ended up only 30 seconds back of Jake, who is running like an absolute beast right now, and I was a minute and a half ahead of Jason Lyon so I got back my unofficial Cape Cup (from Mike Stone, too, who got me last year.)
The final numbers are:
36:51, 42nd overall, 19th American.
I had a blast, this monkey is banished from my back forever and I can't wait until next year.
The week: 46 miles.
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