Thursday Night at the Races

I drew number four. A good draw, but I wasn't sure I wanted it. A higher draw might have made it easier to drop to the back of the pack and stay out of trouble. I didn't really feel like getting run over by faster runners. "Four!" came the call and I stepped into my place -- fourth from the inside in a heat of 20 runners on a track with 6 lanes.

I was at the Armory in upper Manhattan at the first race in a series of track meets that they call Thursday Night at the Races. After running my first marathon, I had been struck with the urge to work on my speed for shorter races. I had a great time at the 5th Avenue Mile, and if I didn't want to wait another year for that event to come around, the track meets at the Armory seemed like the best opportunity. I had no idea what to expect, and I had come to find out.

I was on an early schedule -- still jet lagged from a recent trip to Japan. I wasn't sure I would make it to the evening, so I went ahead with my usual Thursday morning run with the Flyers, which these days is close to 10 miles went you count in the run to the meet point and back (which I do). I knew this wasn't the ideal preparation for an evening race, but since I wasn't feeling too tired, I decided to go on up to the Armory and check out the scene.

When they called the men's mile event, I went over with well over 100 other guys. "Who can run 4:10?" called the organizer. "4:15?" Before long, he had 20 guys for the first heat. These guys were not lying about how fast they were. They were ridiculously fast. Each heat has slower runners than the last, but not much slower. Waiting for the times to reach my range, I chatted with a few other runners, including DR, fellow Flyer and blogger. I had read his blog, so it was great to actually meet him for the first time.

The cut off for the second to last heat was 5:20. The last heat took everyone slower. My time in the 5th Avenue Mile was 5:57. If I could match that here, I might be able to finish without getting lapped.

The gun sounded and we were off. The runners spread out quickly and my fears of colliding with someone faded. I had run races in the park with 5000 runners jammed into the rec lane. This was roomy by comparison.

As soon as that problem disappeared another surfaced. In the first lap, my mouth and throat suddenly became so dry that breathing was harsh. This had never happen to me before. Was I dehydrated? I didn't think so. I decided to ignore it - hey, it's only a mile right? Watching all the young fast runners that preceded my heat had been a little disheartening, but once I got running, it was fun. I was toward the back of the pack, but not last by any means. As the laps wound down, some of the folks in front of me began to fade, and I started passing some folks. I was able to muster a pretty good kick at the end, and finished somewhere in the middle of the field.

A few minutes after the race, I started coughing. It felt like I had done something abusive to my lungs. It got progressively worse, until I was coughing on each breath I took. I started to worry that I soon I wouldn't able to breathe at all. Another runner asked if I was OK, and told me "it's the air in here, it happens to me too." I decided to get outside for some fresh air. On the way out I passed another runner from my heat that was having the same problem.

Once I got outside, my breathing started to return to normal, but even the next day I was not feeling completely right. By Saturday, I felt normal again. Just in time for the Fred Lebow 5 Mile race in the park. But that's another story....