In my post of February 6, I reported that after the Valentine Party in Beaufort on Sunday, we had driven down to Taylor Creek to check out the course for a 5-K race being held on March 4 on Front Street. “We had not run the Cocoa 5-K due to wind-chills in the teens, and are hoping to be able to complete this one, our first race of 2023.” It’s not that we’re wimps – we have both run marathons and half-marathons in the rain – it’s just that we have become more “choosy” about running races. Some might say “sensible.”
In any case, the weather on this Saturday morning cooperated for this choosy and sensible Highlands Roadrunner and his spouse. A weather front had moved rapidly out over the ocean during the night, sweeping the clouds away and leaving a brisk 15-miles-per-hour west wind behind, but with temperatures in the 60s. Our only concern was the pollen, which had been very thick the past few days, coating our car green and making us both a little congested. The course was advertised as a certified one and was out-and-back on Front Street, which meant a wind at our back for the first half of the race. And unlike most races in our part of the country, it was perfectly flat, running between Taylor Creek, and beyond that Rachel Carson Reserve (where we had spotted wild ponies on that Valentine Party Sunday), and beautiful historic Beaufort homes facing the water.
A little over 250 participants had signed up as either “competitive” or “non-competitive,” (“run/walk”) but there was convenient parking near the start, with plenty of volunteers and official-looking timing mats under the START banner. After a short warm-up, we lined up and chatted with some of the other “competitive” runners lined up in front of the walkers and strollers. “You look like you might be in my age group,” I said to a man in a green singlet, “I’m going to stay right behind you and kick at the finish!” We also chatted with a woman with a long braid who might have been in Martha’s age group. But when the race started, both of them (and Martha) quickly pulled away from me. I concentrated on my form – Martha had pointed out to me a week or two ago while running intervals that I was not swinging my left arm as I should – and occupied myself with talking to other runners, feeling the wind at my back but heating up pretty quickly. “Oh no!” I said as a young woman whizzed by, “Passed by the first stroller,” and she laughed. “You should see my eleven-year-old, he’s way out front.” Martha came by from the other direction, having already turned and started back to the finish. “Looking good!” I called out.
We turned at a water stop, a table containing the smallest cups of water I have ever seen in a race, but I thanked the volunteers (who were plentiful and friendly all along the course) and gratefully gulped it down, and when I turned we felt that cooling breeze now in our faces. I slowly caught up to the woman with the braid, who was taking deliberate walking breaks (she was wearing a Jeff Galloway shirt, the author and running coach who famously endorses walking breaks, and said she had finished many marathons using the method) and passed her with some words of encouragement. And I passed a woman dressed as a Dunkin’ Donut (one of the race sponsors), who was walking in the one-mile Fun Run that had started after our race. “Yay! I passed a donut!” I said, and she laughed and cheered. But I never saw the man in the green singlet. (After the race I learned that this inspiring 79-year-old runner was named Finn Hassing, and he had finished in fifth place overall in an incredible time of 23:51). We passed the three-mile sign, and I kept looking at my watch; I had been hoping to break 40 minutes, and it seemed like a long way to the finish line. I finally crossed the line in 40:52, and realized from my Garmin watch that the course had been 3.14 miles. Even certified courses can be short or long. Had it been 3.10, by my calculation my time would have been 40:24, still not under 40 minutes, but definitely good enough for this day, this runner, this new year, this new 74-year-old age I find myself in.
Martha was waiting at the finish, and learned that with her asthma, she had suffered from the pollen more than I had, finishing in 32:54 (32:28, corrected for 3.14 miles). She was disappointed that, struggling to catch her breath, she had had to walk two or three times. The woman with the long braid, who was in the same age group as Martha, told us that she had gotten her time from the officials and learned she was first in her age group, which was puzzling because she had finished behind both of us. The mystery was solved when, calling out the awards, Martha was surprised to learn that she had taken First Place Masters, faster than all of the other women runners in their 40s, 50s, and 60s. She also received a $15 gift certificate for Dunkin’ Donuts, which she promptly gave away.
I learned that my age group was 70-99 (!), and when I went up to accept by second place award (first place had been taken by the 79-year-old Finn Hassing), I assured the handful of applauding onlookers that I was NOT 99. No, not yet. And I hope that I will still be running when I am 79.
