July WWC Virtual River Jam 10k
Sorry, I am bit behind about reporting on this race. I have been off doing some other stuff so I am just now getting settled back in at home.
With the rain last week, I didn't get to do my virtual run until Saturday July 11th. I guess one of the perks if you want to call it a perk is that I decided on the time that I want to race. July has been hot so I opted for a 7 am start time. Still, the temperature was in the mid 70s and humid.
I had been looking at my splits from the previous two months, and I wanted to see if I could do a little better on some of them. There are couple of miles where I am been hitting a lull in my pace which has resulted in a slower than expected split.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and leaned in for the start. Mentally, I could hear the sound of the starting gun echo in my ears, and I pushed forward. At 7 AM, the WWC is pretty quiet. I circled the channel, and my breathing picked up. I leaned hard in to the up hill, charged over the top, and into the North Main trail.
A mountain biker came around me without me even breaking stride. I made the slight left and enter the South Main trail. If there is one section on this course, I wish the WWC guys would fix, it is this one. It is a sharp, rocky descent. Tough, it is for runners if you want to keep your front teeth.
Running along the river is always nice. The breeze cools my body as it drips from everywhere.
I pass by Carpet, Tower, and Wedge. I turn away from the river to loop by Goat before returning to run along the river again. That steep little hill always wears on my quads, and I feel like I am crawling up it.
It takes a few strides before my breathing feels better. I pass by the Weigh Station loop, and then by the Toilet Bowel. I am trying to gauge whether my legs feel good, bad, or indifferent. Willing them to run faster does not seem to be working.
I pass under the power lines, and start in the down hill section. This is a section that either you run well or you struggle. It has a plethora rocks and roots. Anyone of the them could spell catastrophe for a runner.
Only for a moment, I glanced to my right. I can see the Lake loop and know that I will be running there in mere minutes.
Time passes, and I make the hard right u-turn on to the Lake Loop. This is where I let my mind drift in June and cost myself about 22 seconds. This time, I am trying to hammer down on the trail, but being the first one the trail means I am clearing the cob webs for everyone else. Every one of them seems massive.
I round the two lakes and push up the long sloping hill in the back. I want to know if I am running well or not but I don't look at my Garmin. Not knowing seems to be better than knowing.
I pass by the lakes for the finally time. My Garmin has already chimed so I know that I am well in to the final miles. Mile 5 chimes, and I attempt to dig a little deeper.
In what seems like mere seconds, I flash out of the woods and head across the parking lot. I dig in to the hill, and my legs hate it. I am hot, sweaty, and in lactic acid overload.
I know where the finish is, and I just now have to get to it. I take the tangents. As I pass by the last bridge, my Garmin chimes for mile 6. I cannot resist, and I peek at it.
The little circuit board in my Garmin continues to count forward. Uncaring, as if it knows that it is doing me no favors. I know, however. I know that I need to dig deeper. I urge my legs once again for more power and to go faster down this final straightway.
As if being pushed by ghost of other runners, I don't or cannot let up until I reach the finish line flag. I stop my Garmin, and my hands go to my knees. I am left panting for air. My lungs unable to satisfy my body's pent up demand for more oxygen.
A good 3 minutes pass before I straighten up and take a huge deep breathe. Looking at my Garmin, I realize that I have run the exact same time as I ran in June - 47:48. At some points, I felt that I was running better. Others, I wasn't so sure.
Overall, I am just happy to break even and live to fight another day.
Given how things are going in North Carolina, I fear that the entire River Jam Series will turn virtual this year. Someone please tell me that I am wrong to think this is the way that it will be.
The Cool Down Runner
With the rain last week, I didn't get to do my virtual run until Saturday July 11th. I guess one of the perks if you want to call it a perk is that I decided on the time that I want to race. July has been hot so I opted for a 7 am start time. Still, the temperature was in the mid 70s and humid.
I had been looking at my splits from the previous two months, and I wanted to see if I could do a little better on some of them. There are couple of miles where I am been hitting a lull in my pace which has resulted in a slower than expected split.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and leaned in for the start. Mentally, I could hear the sound of the starting gun echo in my ears, and I pushed forward. At 7 AM, the WWC is pretty quiet. I circled the channel, and my breathing picked up. I leaned hard in to the up hill, charged over the top, and into the North Main trail.
A mountain biker came around me without me even breaking stride. I made the slight left and enter the South Main trail. If there is one section on this course, I wish the WWC guys would fix, it is this one. It is a sharp, rocky descent. Tough, it is for runners if you want to keep your front teeth.
Running along the river is always nice. The breeze cools my body as it drips from everywhere.
I pass by Carpet, Tower, and Wedge. I turn away from the river to loop by Goat before returning to run along the river again. That steep little hill always wears on my quads, and I feel like I am crawling up it.
It takes a few strides before my breathing feels better. I pass by the Weigh Station loop, and then by the Toilet Bowel. I am trying to gauge whether my legs feel good, bad, or indifferent. Willing them to run faster does not seem to be working.
I pass under the power lines, and start in the down hill section. This is a section that either you run well or you struggle. It has a plethora rocks and roots. Anyone of the them could spell catastrophe for a runner.
Only for a moment, I glanced to my right. I can see the Lake loop and know that I will be running there in mere minutes.
Time passes, and I make the hard right u-turn on to the Lake Loop. This is where I let my mind drift in June and cost myself about 22 seconds. This time, I am trying to hammer down on the trail, but being the first one the trail means I am clearing the cob webs for everyone else. Every one of them seems massive.
I round the two lakes and push up the long sloping hill in the back. I want to know if I am running well or not but I don't look at my Garmin. Not knowing seems to be better than knowing.
I pass by the lakes for the finally time. My Garmin has already chimed so I know that I am well in to the final miles. Mile 5 chimes, and I attempt to dig a little deeper.
In what seems like mere seconds, I flash out of the woods and head across the parking lot. I dig in to the hill, and my legs hate it. I am hot, sweaty, and in lactic acid overload.
I know where the finish is, and I just now have to get to it. I take the tangents. As I pass by the last bridge, my Garmin chimes for mile 6. I cannot resist, and I peek at it.
The little circuit board in my Garmin continues to count forward. Uncaring, as if it knows that it is doing me no favors. I know, however. I know that I need to dig deeper. I urge my legs once again for more power and to go faster down this final straightway.
As if being pushed by ghost of other runners, I don't or cannot let up until I reach the finish line flag. I stop my Garmin, and my hands go to my knees. I am left panting for air. My lungs unable to satisfy my body's pent up demand for more oxygen.
A good 3 minutes pass before I straighten up and take a huge deep breathe. Looking at my Garmin, I realize that I have run the exact same time as I ran in June - 47:48. At some points, I felt that I was running better. Others, I wasn't so sure.
Overall, I am just happy to break even and live to fight another day.
Given how things are going in North Carolina, I fear that the entire River Jam Series will turn virtual this year. Someone please tell me that I am wrong to think this is the way that it will be.
The Cool Down Runner
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