It has been quite a while since I have run a 5k. Looking back over the years, it has also struck me that one of the busiest road racing days of the year is Thanksgiving, and my racing history on Thanksgiving Day is almost nill. I did one race in Bourne many years ago, a 5K on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It was, to date, the coldest race I have ever run, with a wind chill of about 25°. The start had a very sharp downhill slope, and the first kilometer was downhill to a lesser extent. I had a sub-5-minute kilometer, but that was about the extent of my glory. The rest of the race was uphill, including that start hill. I finished in a respectable 28 minutes, but I was dissatisfied considering the fine start. Study the race map, and do not go out too fast. Lessons learned.
The other Thanksgiving race I did was in 2018, a 10K in the town of Seekonk, about a 45-minute drive. The wind chill factor for this race made the first race seem downright balmy; the constant breeze made the feel like temperature a nifty 0°. I chose this race to have a time for the Peachtree 10K I planned to do in July. It would take about three miles into the race to realize what a colossal error this was. The race was a duel 5K and 10K, with everyone starting simultaneously. The blob was kind of interesting for the first couple of kilometers, with everyone jockeying for position on the narrow sidewalk; we even had a dad-type scream, "Have a good race, everybody," which I thought was, if nothing else, unique.
The split came at around 2½ miles, with a rather loud gentleman screaming directions on which street to take. This is where my headspace started to kick in like a Lionel Messi free kick. First thought; if I had chosen the 5K, I would be back to the nice warm YMCA gym in about fifteen to twenty minutes. Second thought, it would be most embarrassing if I was one of those runners who had to be picked up by the race director because of the freezing cold. Third thought; I overdressed. I was now feeling warm and uncomfortable, and I could not effectively regulate my body temperature. The next 3½ miles were going to be a cold hell.
There was not much to report on for the rest of the race. I alternated between walking and running with no real set strategy. When I reached the water station, I found that the water had frozen solid, so I had to move on. The course ran through the rural section of town, which was scenic but challenging to calibrate as to how far I had to go to the next landmark. More running and walking, again with no clear focus.
I finally made it back to Arcade Avenue, the street where the finish line was. I lumbered into the finish corral at around 1:12, not too bad, considering this was my first race after the accident and the weather conditions. I was second to last for the entire field, but I took the positives and headed to some turkey.
It would be five years before I entered another Thanksgiving Day race. Having just completed my first half-marathon in six years, I was confident and curious about using the Galloway run/walk/run method in a 5K race. I had run a couple of mock 5K's in training, usually coming somewhere between thirty-five and forty minutes, but that was on a relatively empty course with nothing to shoot for. I had an idea about what to expect, but the variables were still something of a mystery.
Having secured my number the day before, complete with a Running of the Pilgrims 5K knit hat instead of a t-shirt, I was off nice and early for an eight o'clock start time. The ride to downtown Plymouth takes about forty minutes, all back roads that should be nice and quiet considering the hour. As I was traveling through our neighboring town of Rochester, something was gnawing at me, so I had to double-check the race's start time. I pulled into the unoccupied Post Office and, to my complete horror, saw that the start time was 7:30!!
No time to waste. My GPS said that I had an arrival time of 7:19, but the parking lot was about a five or six-minute walk to the arch. I am now flying through back roads as fast as I can go, only slowing down for a well-marked speed decrease in the town of Carver and a pee stop at a secluded cranberry bog. I entered the parking lot at 7:19 and was relieved to see a few runners making their way to the race. My warmup run will be the wet, mossy, slippery path leading to the race area. With adrenaline pumping, I reach the start group at 7:25, time for a few leg swings and a quick glance at some of the fantastic costumes that some participants were sporting.
Traveling issues are over; it's time to start the race. The course had changed from the original; it was an out-and-back with a loop that began at about 2K, going up to Main Street and then looping back to the Plymouth bike path, which dumps you back out to Water Street and the finish arch. I was flying right along at a 7:00 per kilometer pace, trying to keep pace with some other runners despite the stop-and-go of run/walk/run. I was feeling it, but it was a 5K, and you are supposed to red line.
At about 1½ kilometers, the left unto Nelson Street is taken at the ten-minute mark. I am feeling surprisingly good; I am keeping up with a pack of runners who are keeping a steady pace, and I am surprised by the number of spectators watching the race. This is the perfect time to experience the only hill of the day, warmed up and feeling good but not so far into the race that you feel gassed. I would say that the worst part of the hill was at about a 6% grade, and even that was not too long. Right on Court Street at about 1.8 kilometers, still feeling good but with a new challenge.
The course was not closed to traffic on this street, meaning that all the runners had to use the sidewalk, creating a logjam with all kinds of problems. My biggest fear at this point was abruptly going from a run to a walk with someone right on my ass. I tried to limit my switch points, which seemed to work pretty well, and I extended my run segment slightly to get to the next street. Not much traffic on this road, and it's downhill. I used gravity to speed up a little and hit the halfway mark at a little over 18 minutes.
The next right was onto a bike path, which was flat and more expansive than the sidewalk we all had to squeeze into on Court Street. There was also a noticeable stretch in the field, with some runners getting a boost from the downward slope on the previous street. I am starting to feel a little tired but hit 3 kilometers at 21½ minutes, still on pace for around a 35-minute finish. The end of the bike path turned into a small park that abutted the water, I have to admit I was tempted to cut a few corners, but I stayed pretty much on course, rejoining Water Street at 3½ kilometers. One straight shot to the finish line.
I hit the 4-kilometer mark at about 29 minutes and the crazy roundabout at about 30. I shook things up at this point with the run/walk intervals. Nothing earth-shattering, maybe 75 seconds running to 30 seconds walking, but I felt like the tank was emptying and the finish line had to be coming up. I cut the last walk segment when I caught sight of the finish arc at about 4.75 kilometers and hit the line unofficially at 35:25. This was not the best-case scenario time, but I was thrilled nonetheless.
I hung around the finish line for about 20 minutes, scoffing free water and bananas and mulling who I could ask to take a post-race photo of me without sounding too creepy. Both the walk back to the car and the ride home were pretty chill, and the post-race extra large cup of tea at Marylou's Coffee was excellent. I am officially checking the successful Turkey Trot box. See you next year.
