Am I back in shape or just back?
Excuses first: busy life, cut back on the 30 mile weeks the past 3 weeks. Left hammy and neck are off aka I'm getting older.
Packet pickup for myself and Channel and Liz Saturday at my portapotty of choice, Cambridgeside Mall. Finish Saturday with pizza and a vintage market because
Sunday: an hour thrust to the future, I gotta essentially wake up at 5 am to get ready. Hammy still on the fritz. 2 train rides on the green later and I am back in the Mall, ready to go easy/80% on my leg.
The usual bathroom line, check. The usual warm up of running down an empty Cambridge road, check. No announcement of what time it was was detrimental what without my trusty GPS watch (it is on its last legs) And with a shot we were off, plodding along as I chose to not be at the front of the pack. Dumb idea as always as the first half mile was molasses.
The route was different than the freedom run for sure as we criss crossed all near the Zakim bridge up and down hills. I, without watch and peak form, ran as evenly as I could at around a 7:30 pace. There was some jostling in the beginning mile with some skinny dude in a yellow rain jacket bumping in to me. Without my legs, I couldn't just burn this dude and had to let this guy trot along ahead.
With the effort lacking the usual (as close to) 100%, I never had the involuntary gag reflex hit me until thirty minutes after the race. At the chute, I got passed multiple times as I never hit the afterburners knowing full well I need my hamstring for the (hopeful) marathon in October.
23:13, 22:48 officially.
Chilled in the mall til the rest of the gang finished then entered the Top Notch drinking tent/ team photo/5 beers and pretzel buns/ dance party full of backpack moves.
Without a doubt, best swag ever: a Top Notch glass, Craicfest glass, Craicfest shirt which, correctly pointed out by Channel, has about everything that I love: Wu-Tang Clan, iPod, basketball, shoes, skateboarding, graffiti, and drinking. I would've bought this shirt outside of the race.
On the ride back from the race, it hit me that the B versus the C line was a generational gap in 3D. I rode the C line, as the youngest and most inebriated (at noon) as most had bought groceries and had probably grandchildren. If I was on the B line, I would be the oldest and least drunk. It was like VIP status at festivals all over again.
beat last year's 4 beer max; 5 beers, thanks Top Notch.
