Buckets of Rain

Lap -1: 37
Lap 1: 76
LAp 2: 77
Lap 3: 76
Lap 4: 79
Lap 5: 77
Lap 6: 79
Lap 7: 80
Lap 8: 79
Lap 9: 79
Lap 10: 81
Lap 11: 79
Lap 12: 74

There were plenty of mixed emotions prior to race day, a fair few bon the day of the race but all emotions I felt during the race were favourable; save for the excessive splashing of water in my face that had me half blinded for the majority of the race. This was my first 5,000m on the track and it was certainly a learning curve in terms of pacing and race strategy. I don’t feel that the minutia of the race is accurately reflected in the splits but they do tell their own tale.

The first kilometre was exactly where I needed to be but the pace slowly began to fall off after that. It’s a hard lesson to learn that a second (or two or three) per lap has such an effect on the overall time that you will run, especially as a road runner. Because of the terrain in road racing, I don’t hit the same rhythm as I would on the track as you are surging, cornering and racing hundreds of people, not 21. Essentially it is very unfamiliar to me to run the same pace for 400 metres over and over again. There were clocks at every 200m on the track but once I fell off the 76 second pace, I found it hard to calculate where I was, except for on the kilometre splits. This meant that two laps per kilometre were basically lost to me in terms of knowing where I was against the clock.

From watching back the race, it didn’t really unfold the way it did in my head. I have now diagnosed myself with race dysmorphia disorder. I lost the ability to run a good time after 800m when I did not go with the larger group ahead of me and, instead, stuck with the group that slowly tailed off the back. This might have happened on the road but, in that scenario, I’d have made the decision based off more information, such as the pace I was running on the watch. I decided to go full track hipster and ditch the watch (still wore socks though?) so I was tuning in to the body and how it felt. Seán had advised me numerous times in the weeks leading up to the race to be sensible and not get carried away for 4,000m and then, and only then, should I push on. He also reminded me of this earlier in the day. He also told me this as I was going into the call room. So, forefront in my mind, was to not be stupid and push ahead if I couldn’t sustain it. To be honest, this was partially a fear of mine anyway as I did not want to risk blowing up and hurting and I also did not want to risk blowing up and hurting in front of thousands of people. My ego is much too fragile for such an event.

I stayed with the smaller pack and we slowly lost touch with the larger pack. I felt very normal at this point. I did not feel under pressure. Even though we were slowing, I still felt the same as I did when I was running 2 or 3 seconds a lap quicker. It is strange how your body and pace locks in and you start whiling away the laps. I think now that I really made a mistake to not go and close that gap and try hang on to the other group. For what died the sons of Róisín? Was it a PB?

Thankfully, no sons died this day and I kept trodding along. The next noticeable thing to happen was that I found myself leading the mini pack as I had overtaken the young lad at the front. After one lap of this, I was then overtaken by an eager Northerner named Fergus as he wanted to press the pace. This was perfect for me as pacing pack of people for any amount of time would probably qualify as doing something stupid. Fergus kept us ticking over for a lap or so but slowly I felt I was on his heels too much and I went past him. My sights were now on the man in red ahead of me, about 30 metres at this stage. No sooner had I my sights on the man in red, Feidhlim Kelly began shouting at me to latch on as soon as I could. It took me another lap before I fully caught up and then was sitting on his shoulder for the next few laps.

It was around the 3,000m mark when I felt I had really botched the pacing and knew I would be well short of a PB. I had spent much of the previous week thinking about outcomes versus experience and, contrary to all the advice given to me, I believed that a suboptimal outcome meant this race was not worth it. My mind didn’t drift into negative territory throughout the race, however, and more moved to trying to close harder and control all that I could. Remarkably, I thought I was moving quicker through the laps and this was, in my head, evidenced by overtaking a couple more people. Much to my despair, the laps actually got slower and even featured an 81. Quelle Tragedie! I did manage to rally for the last lap and close in a 74, which only looks good compared to the final few laps, and in reality is quite slow when trying to close hard. Importantly, I did hear and feel Chris Jonker of Galway City Harriers closing hard on me in the last 150m and thankfully was able to put a bit of gas in the legs and ensure I beat him to the line comfortably… in .25 of a second. 16th place secured.

Overall, the race itself was very enjoyable. It’s important to put yourself into uncomfortable situations and see how you react. I definitely didn’t take this race too seriously, which was likely a defence mechanism to shield myself from the inner scrutiny should the whole experience have gone south. Track racing is a whole different world. Outwardly, it appears as everybody takes everything much more seriously. I highly doubt the same people who I raced against would do half of the warm ups and stretches they did at this event if they were competing over the same distance on the road. But that is all part of it, I suppose. Next time I do race on the track, I’ll be sure to bring my AirPods.

Up next: Marathon.