Repeat lesson…

I was going to do a brief (maybe two-part) history of the 5000M/5K race but following a couple of experiences this week, I’m detouring to a different subject. It may sound similar to a blog post this past fall but given that it revolves around the importance of consistency in racing, repetition seems okay.

I did another time trial this past weekend, a 3200M with an additional 18M marked off past the finish line to make a full two-mile. Based on my training, I figured that if I could match my times from last summer (11:54 for the 3200 and 11:59 for the 2-mile) I would be pleased. This would mean running just under 90 seconds per lap.

Mentally, I like to have a time cushion at the end of the race. Being stuck between a goal time and a pace you’re not sure you can hold isn’t much fun. Yet, my best times have usually occurred when I run a consistent pace. Where does the instinct come from to charge out too fast, even knowing it doesn’t work that well? It could be hope that the cushion comes early and we’ll feel good enough to hold the regular pace for the last stages. Or, maybe we’re hoping we’ll end up with the race of our lives and blow away our goal time. These are not wise ways of approaching the race and despite any desire to have extra seconds to work with in the last part of the race, consistency tends to work best.

As I’ve mentioned previously, the challenge of running the exact same pace throughout a race is that you start off feeling good, as you’re not going all-out, and you need need to stay patient. Following that, you then need to push harder and harder as you get further into it. Your body is getting tired and wants to slow down, so you counteract that. On Saturday, this was no different. The first lap seemed like a breeze but by lap three I didn’t think my pace was going to hold. I think I’m so used to the 5000M that when I cross 1600M, what saves me is that I fully realize I’m halfway done, not less than one-third. Past the halfway point, while I wouldn’t say I felt strong the thought of pushing was somewhat palatable and I charged on. My splits were 87/90/90/90/90/91/90/86 for an 11:54 3200M. I then crossed the two-mile at 11:59.

On Tuesday, I felt good and for my six mile run, I was cooking along at a 6:45 pace for the first two miles. Yet, though I felt I could hold the pace for a while, if not really start blasting down the trail, I held back just a little. My ego said I could run the pace all day; my brain knew better. At the turnaround, wear was starting to creep in. The last mile and a half was grueling and the final mile was 6:50, but the overall pace stayed at 6:47 and being patient at the beginning had paid off.

Two consistency lessons in four days and in both cases, consistency won. Again.