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What would possess someone (me) who hasn't raced a 5K in at least three years to notify the world that he intended to run a specific time? In retrospect, probably two things. #1 and foremost on the list - it would make me less likely to back out. I could think of a dozen reasons to do so, including the fact that the Wellfleet Oysterfest is such a fun weekend that bringing pain to the situation seems illogical. #2 and more relevant to this web site is the possibility it might pique the reader's interest enough to finish this story. In doing so they and you may glean some of the insights that apply to all runners, whether it is a high school ace trying to lead a team to victory or a middle aged male trying to make sense of running on the downhill side of his performance curve.

Speaking of performance curve, don't make judgments based on my times. Never having been a distance runner, my results are never pretty. Sprints and high jump were my forte. Now it's coaching. I was always much better at timing Sebastian Coe than chasing him. But I've been fortunate to coach and even father some pretty good distance runners. I might know something by now.

My last 5K was three years ago on Martha's Vineyard over Thanksgiving. This time I chose Wellfleet because it's my second hometown. I'm among friends there and just going for a run with them can be enjoyable. A few years ago I covered this race as it went through the center of town and now I looked forward to making that run. Alas, the race changed to an abbreviated version of the July 4 th five-mile racecourse.

I chose the goal of 24 minutes because I felt it was within my range, having done quite a few LSD runs with my team this fall. Though I only dip below 8-minute miles over brief stretches, I'm also acutely aware that Wellfleet tends to exaggerate the course distance. That could only work in my favor.

I know the course well. It's the first distance race I ever competed, having been convinced to do so in the late 70's by my wife. Later, I was race director for a few years and measured the course by wheel numerous times. Let's just say there's a reason runners post fast times despite the numerous hills. That knowledge becomes important later in this story.

The first blow to my confidence came when I went to register. I was unaware that old friend Graham Whitlaw was helping direct the race. After exchanging pleasantries I asked him the most important question.

Me : “So, the course is a little short, right?”

Graham : “No, it's right on. I measured it twice!”

Me : “Damn”

It was evident he's not a true Wellfleetian.

Sunday morning I set the alarm to 7AM for a 9AM race. Awakening to the radio I made sure not to look Arlene in the eye when I said, “whose stupid idea was it to enter the race.” She was kind enough not to answer. My first trip outside was to check the temperature and sure enough it was cold. Arlene took off for a “weather check” jog to the paper box. My own first steps reminded me that a week ago I tweaked my hamstring. For the meager pace of my movement there was much too much pain. Still, having put my goal into cyberspace meant not giving in easily. One ibuprofen later I was ready to continue.

By 8:30 we were at the racecourse. Here I always get a surge of great feeling. I jogged around with camera in hand looking at the beautiful views, checking in with friends and snapping a few pics. It even felt like I had a little extra bounce in my step. I love the atmosphere surrounding road races, especially since I have no pressure to win anything.

Bill Iacuessa, the third member of our neighborhood group showed up. My sister Chris took group pictures then we finally headed to the line. I stopped to wish luck to Joe Navas, a local runner who was the race favorite.

As Bill and Arlene headed to the middle of the pack I became reluctant. I intended to work with Arlene for most of the race but there was this goal I had to make. My captain had threatened that if I didn't break 24 minutes I'd be running extra miles this week. In truth, I knew that no matter what the time my “hammy” was going to limit this week's work. So I ambled up nearer to the front.

It's not that I was going to start that fast, but I know Wellfleet is famous for walkers getting near the front. It was going to be tough enough to meet my goal without adding dodge-ems to the equation.

After Rec Director Becky Rosenberg greeted the runners Graham proceeded to add a second layer of concern. I'd been told that the race went to the Country Club and back. OK with me because I know that means two moderate hills going out and one coming back (the start is at sea level and the turn-around would be at the top of a hill). Graham proceeded to explain that the race went to a turn-around “beyond” the country club.

“Wait a minute!” I thought. “How far! I know the hills get bigger as you go and I paid my $15 to turn around at the golf course!”

His second announcement “Stay to the left going out and coming back” brought a light murmur and a few chuckles. In Wellfleet we take the shortest distance baby! If it means footsteps on a hood we're cutting every corner!

The historical WF start of an air-horn was replaced by a simple “Ready, GO.” The group of 200+ runners went out comfortably, first curving out of the parking lot and then along a straight road with Wellfleet Harbor to our left. Though going at an intentionally slow pace I still had to dodge even slower runners. About 600M into the race the road curves right, edging away from the water and up the first incline. Here I took a watch check, 2:39. My reasoning was that on the way back I could do another check. If I were under 21 minutes I wouldn't have to push to meet my goal!

I was surprised to be passing people. My pace wasn't fast, but I kept steady. As I would inch slowly ahead of runners, I gained confidence from their heavy breathing. Mine felt more controlled than anticipated. I'm usually the heavy breather.

I shunned the water stop at the end of the first hill, legs and breathing still smooth. The runners were spreading out so I fixed on a pair of yellow shorts 50M ahead, determined to keep even. There were runners between us, but the yellow made it easy to follow.

I know right where the mile mark sits, having painted it for the first time many years ago. The accuracy of this mark is unquestioned. When I hit it in 7:33 I got a great burst of confidence. “Room to play with” I thought.

To me, it seemed like I maintained this pace even through the second hill. We passed the golf course and I wondered, “Where's the turn.” The third hill was steeper and I felt a little slower, but not by much, still not getting passed by the runners behind. I opened my stride down the next hill, bottomed out and started up the next.   Finally the turning point crept into view. I rounded the corner to the outside of a female runner and glanced at my watch.

11:57. 11:57!! My buffer was gone. This is an out and back. If I slow down by just 4 seconds going back I'm not going to make it. I didn't panic but I surely wasn't happy. My body still felt good, breathing was smooth, and I had some other runners to play off of – although I forgot about yellow shorts.

On the first downhill a group of four runners surged past me. I had the urge to go with them but patience paid off. Within a minute two of them dropped off and drifted to the rear never to be seen again. The others backed off and we spent most of the next mile dueling back and forth.

I knew I still had a long way to go and took stock of my body. For the first time I was starting to feel tired. This is the thinking part of the race. I concentrated on all the elements I discuss with runners. I was running against time, not people. So, it made more sense to keep surges gradual and energy expenditure even. This was not the time to charge hills or take off after a pair of shorts, no matter what color they were. I thought about letting my body flow down the declines, making sure not to heel strike hard. I even went to the overhand windmill a few times. On the uphills I kept the cadence even but the strides slightly shorter.

My body started talking to me. The difficult part is to weed out what to listen to. My lungs complained a little. I acknowledged it and assured them they were OK at this pace. I'd wait till the last 800M before I'd see if they could take more. My legs questioned where the bounce went. I let them know I didn't need them to bounce, but they still had to keep moving. My left hamstring was only whispering so I decided to ignore it unless it spoke up louder. My plantar faciatis always complains. I gave up on the left foot a long time ago, like a problem child that is only looking for attention.

The goal of 24 minutes superceded comfort.

My legs really felt the last hill but by then I was running side by side with others and that made it much easier to focus on the task. These were not enemies to be defeated. These were runners helping to pull me towards my goal. I hoped I could help them as well. Cresting the last hill I grabbed my first cup of water. I took a quick sip and as a reflex went to pour it over my head. At the last second, thinking of the temperature, I flinched and sent it flying over my head. No one screamed from behind so I assumed I only hit pavement.

The last downhill drops toward the water and the last of my three checkpoints. I resisted the urge to check my watch early. As I rounded the curve my time read 20:57. It would take a poor finish to miss my goal and I felt pretty good.

I called “let's go, we can do this” to the runner at my side. The pace quickened and the stride felt great – until! Twang, the hamstring remained silent no more. But it was merely toying with me. This wasn't a “Hey buddy, you're done. Time to sit down!” He gently reminded me, “You're lucky I'm going to let you off this time. Don't forget you're 54. Don't push me!”

I entered the parking lot side by side with my unknown partner and we strode confidently toward the finish. Happy with my time and place, I backed off to let her into the chute first. For a second she hesitated, probably deciding to give it to me. Then she resumed her pace allowing me to sit just off her right shoulder as we crossed the line.

My time – 23:18.

Arlene's 24:38 was an equal effort, given her back of the pack starting position. Perhaps I can convince her to sneak up front with me next time. I'm confident that on any given day she could kick my butt.

Bill finished in 27:27. Not bad for a guy who's Achilles problems forced him to give up running a few years back. He eased back into it this year and has now run his third race.

Well, I've been typing for over an hour and my index finger is getting tired. I have other questions to answer this week. Plus, I have a few more comments about age, road racing, sprinting at the finish, the relationship between goals and pain, and the problem with wearing watches.