Earlybird Invitational 2013

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Truth be told, I actually enjoy running at Toro Park. Most of my teammates scorn at the thought of the loose sand on the course, the frequent dust storms during races, and the 75 mile drive to Salinas. For me, Toro Park is magical place where something is always in the cards. Thinking about the race, I was hoping this was indeed the case today.

I couldn’t sleep the night before owing to immense anxiety. After all, it was the beginning of the end, the first race of my final season. I ceased all thoughts and sat silently on my bed, visualizing the start of the race. I would round the 315 degree turn in front, leading the pack, free of any worry. Or so I hoped.

Race day felt much different, but maybe that was because I wasn’t on the boisterous bus ride with the rest of the team. Instead, I would be driving an air-conditioned Prius to the meet. My dad and I left San Jose leisurely at 10:30, four hours after the team left from Lynbrook. The drive to Toro Park was pleasant, with very light traffic on 101. Manning the steering wheel helped me ease and cease the aimless thoughts floating in my head. I stepped out of the car refreshed and ready, albeit very nervous.

I warmed up on my own, jogging in silence for ten minutes. I slipped on my flats, tore off my shirt, and walked towards the start line. I squeezed myself into one of the center boxes, and I was all set. I did a couple of strides in an attempt to minimize the tension, but to no avail.

The starter gave the typical race day spiel and pointed his gun skywards. “SET!” he bellowed. *Click*. The tension deflated like a popped balloon… the starter had ran out of blanks. The second time was a charm, and we all exploded from the start line.

The start was diabolical. I didn’t stride up front to catch the sharp turn and was pushed towards the outside. Within the first 300m I had been jostled around and shoved to both sides of the trail. I calmly pressed on, returning any thrown elbows. I pushed forward on the next 300m, accelerating past the spot where my teammates cheered me on. Within a matter of meters, I had moved from 50th to about 25th, comfortably tailing the lead pack.

Rounding the turn, we hit the first mile marker at cruising speed. I heard my first split as 5:25, and my heart sank a little. I was off pace for a sub-16 minute run. Nevertheless, I kept my eye on the runner in front of me and tailed him as we passed the halfway gauntlet and headed up the notorious hills.

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Ascending the hills wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I could hear my dad and coach cheering me on, providing exhortations that pushed me to accelerate even more. Descent was a different story. People began to trickle past me as I cautiously proceeded down the steep gradient. I knew there wasn’t much race left for me to continuing tailing people, so I began to make my move.

Bursting out of the hills loop with 900m to go, Jake yelled something at me saying that I could go 16:40 if I tried. That would mean a very modest PR, but the alternative would mean that I would miss my mark for the first time at Toro Park. I surged forward with two competitors in close pursuit.

Rounding the last few turns with 600m left, my shoelaces untied themselves and began to flail wildly with every stride. Untied shoelaces and loose footing became the least of my worries when both my competitors silently pushed forward and overtook me. I began to let up a little, knowing that I would lose the battle of the kick. I couldn’t toss a race away that easily however. I sat behind both of them, nearing the finishing gauntlet with the last two hundred meters in sight.

Then something happened. I did something that I was unable to do during summer preseason and training. I kicked and closed out.

I could hear my dad again, shouting for me to finish the race. I went into overdrive and took on a sprinter’s form. I pumped my arms and accompanied them with longer strides as I pushed towards the tape. The clocked flickered faster, ticking through the digits. I crossed the finish line and barreled through the chute, unable to stop. I was spent, but I was happy and grinning inside. I had finish twelfth out of a vast field of nearly 200 runners.

I emerged out of the chute sweating, exhausted, and depleted. However, I couldn’t have been more content as I shared high-fives and handshakes with the rest of my teammates. I later learned that I had PRed by a mere two seconds. I felt a little disappointed inside since I was hoping to shatter the elusive 16-minute barrier at Toro. Someone later told me that the mercury had shot up during the race, hitting a scorching 93 degrees. I began to put things in perspective, and suddenly the race felt more and more as a personal victory.

I was definitely content with how the race played out overall. Looking forward, I think I will have to be weary of the start and mid-race development at Crystal Springs on Tuesday. There are still many chances for me to break the 16-minute barrier, and even going for sub-5 pace overall as well.

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