At this point of the race, we’ve entered Framingham, another classic suburban Massachusetts hamlet. As Marathon Majors go, Boston may be one of the more scenic -- it’s a pastoral tour from rural to urban New England.
Outside of the start in Hopkinton, crowd support thus far has been fairly sparse despite the the fact that the professional women have already come through. I guess we’re just the lead phalanx in a 30,000 person hoard. Of course there’s the occasional family tailgating in their yard -- Marathon Monday falls on a State holiday, after all -- but the density of people definitely becomes more noticeable as we enter Framingham.
The crowd is a little more active as the road opens up. We cross over some railroad tracks by a depot, and just like that, with no fanfare at all, we’re through 10k. 31:37 on the clock. A few runners around me split their watches, but I never race with a watch.
I remember my first ever 10k because it was a miserable experience. It was my first season of college cross country, and I was every bit the Freshman that I looked. Just one year prior the farthest I had ever raced was a 5k, but during this season that was extended to an 8k. And then, because the NCAA is a cruel and heartless organization, come tournament time the men get to race over 10k. Women raced 5k all season and then barely bumped up to 6k to close the season. Shit.
At the time the 10k distance had a near-mythical status. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that much worse than an 8k, but it sure seemed like it. Just another mile further -- well, a mile and a kick. And hell, learning from the upperclassmen, race strategy wasn’t that much different from an 8k, either. Just race it exactly like an 8k...and then keep going for two more kilometers. Simple.
Most of running is pretty simple. But fuck me if it isn’t tough as well.
Up to that point in my Freshman year, I had been the fifth or sixth runner on the team in most races. In cross country your place is your point, and the lowest score through five runners wins, kind of like golf. If there’s a tie through five, the sixth guy breaks it. Arguably, I was the most important runner on the team most of the season, since the fifth scorer is where points are won or lost in packs. What a position for a wide-eyed newbie.
This race, though, I was running as the fourth guy since one of our better runners (I don’t remember which one) was out with an injury of some sort. It was nice to move up on the team, but I absolutely did not feel like I belonged in a scoring position at that level. This was the NCAA Regional round: top two teams qualify to the National Championship along with a number of at-large bids selected by a committee the next day, as well as four individuals on non-qualifying teams.
My team was most assuredly not in the mix to qualify to Nationals. In fact, if we finished in the top half of the 32-team field, that would be a great result. (We didn’t. That year, at least.)
Anyway, it was my Freshman year and I was starting to get fried by the long season, not to mention the general stress of a completely new dorm lifestyle and college classes. The course design made the day even worse. It was essentially a two-loop course, and going out on the second we went right underneath the finish line -- and past a 5k marker. I remember passing it thinking, Just a couple months ago I’d never raced further than this! And now I have to go do it all again?! Not exactly the right headspace for a race.
The second 5k of that race was rough, and I struggled through the finish in 34:15. Some of the better women in the NCAA could have beaten me.
But I did it, and soon found that the 10k suited me pretty well as an athlete. I never had the leg speed to blast a mile or shift gears at the end of a 5k, but I could grind out a 10k. That eventually became my race on the track, every single one of the 25 laps.
25 laps felt like a marathon on the track, but it’s nothing close to the real 26 miles. One stride beyond the 10k marker, and this is officially only the third time I’ve ever raced this far. Of those previous two races, one went really well and one went really bad. Here’s hoping for a repeat of the former today. So far, so good.
We split through the seventh mile in 5:07, still in a large pack. The total running time is 35:34. Nothing of significance has happened in the race thus far.
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