The Commish, Final.

At the annual ACLI 3-Mile Capital Challenge race in May, I suddenly found myself on the starting line, unexpectedly so.  A team member had gotten delayed and was not present for the race.

I consulted one last time with the team captain, Commissioner McSweeny, whom I had been coaching for the race and who was a novice racer but a powerful runner.  "There's a lot of sideways running at the beginning of these crowded races," I said, "so stick close behind me, follow me wherever I go and we'll   get through slower clumps of runners as best we can by shooting through holes that momentarily open up between runners to try to get to open roadway."  She looked dubious but said she was glad I was running with her, at least for the first mile.

That was the hurried plan conceited in the last two minutes when it became clear that I would be subbing for a missing, much faster runner.  I would take her out at a proper pace for her, a sub-8-minute mile first mile and she would power it in in the last two miles from there.  I don't have many sub-8-minute miles left in me, and certainly not three consecutive ones or even two in a row.

The gun went off and we started out.  The three fast runners on our team were gone already, far ahead. It quickly became apparently to me that by lining up at our proper station, with the 8-minute mile group, that we were too far back and too jammed in.

After a few hundred yards of darting and dodging, going from side to side of the two-lane roadway to find clear spots, some space opened up that we could operate better in.  The commissioner was still there, just off my hip.  I glanced back every twenty seconds or so to make sure as I set a fast but manageable pace of what I judged to be mid-sevens (7:30-minute miles).

I'm experienced enough a runner to be able to do so by feel.  I've run several hundred races, all but a half dozen in the last decade though.  Things seemed to be going well now, now that we had some open space, although runners were still all around us.  I settled into a good, fast pace, with my head on a swivel as I looked back for the commissioner.

She was gone.  She was definitely not there any more.  Was it possible that she passed me, I wondered?

Nothing up ahead, and I certainly hadn't seen her go by.  I slowed perceptibly, and runners started flowing around me like moving water rushing around the edges of a large stone sticking above the surface in a fast-moving stream.  Where was she?

Five seconds passed, ten seconds, fifteen.  Then suddenly, "Here I am!"  She had caught up to me from behind.  I had dropped her off the back by going a little too fast but now she was caught up again and I adjusted my pace.

So now we started slogging up the out-and-back course.  The minutes passed and the burn came on in my lungs and legs.  Up ahead was the first milepost.

We passed it at 7:50 according to the race clock set up there.  My stop watch, which I set as we actually passed the starting gate, said 7:31, which was within a second of what I wanted for the first mile.  It had taken us 19 seconds after the race started to cross over the starting mat because of the congestion of runners at the beginning.

I told the commissioner to go ahead, that I could no longer match her speed as her youth and strength were now coming into play.  She always finished strong and ran negative splits, at least in the three-mile runs Greg and I had run with her.  Off she went and she soon disappeared into the crowd up ahead.

Now I was struggling.  I know I slowed, although I willed myself on.  The spirit is strong but the flesh is weak.  That's why you train long and hard for your races, like the commissioner had but I hadn't.

My pace fell out of the sevens in the second mile and I was wallowing around, I was sure, at around an 8:30 mile pace.  I was hot and sweating profusely.  I passed around the midway cone and started back, looking for the second mile marker.

I passed it at 16:05 by the race clock, a notable diminution from the first mile.  I think I got even slower in the third mile, although I picked it up with a quarter mile to go and passed everyone who was slightly ahead of me on the roadway during that stretch, five or six runners, and didn't allow anyone behind me to pass me.  The race clock said 24:20 when I finished.  Ugh.  That was a personal worst by a minute and a half.

It got worse.  Somehow my official finishing time was listed as 24:29 (an 8:10 pace).  What are you going to do?  Whine to the scorers about it?  I was DFL on my team.

The commissioner time, officially, was 23:32.  I know she ran faster than that but what are you going to do, whine to the scorers about it?  She ran a great race, sub-eights the whole way.  In addition to our official times being mysteriously many seconds slower than we each thought, our delay in getting over the starting gate wasn't taken into account (chip-time versus gun-time) despite it being a chip-timed race.

By my reckoning I did a 24:01 and the commish did something under 23:13, perhaps a 22:54.  The other runners all had times in the 18 minute or 19 minute range.  My participation perhaps made the commissioner half a minute faster but the fifth team member, me, turned in a time about six minutes slower than the missing team member.  What are you going to do, cry about it?  

I was barely in the top half of runners.  Our team was 17th overall out of 104 teams, ninth in our competitive division out of 34 teams.  We missed eighth place by one point; if only I'd started my finishing kick earlier and picked off one more runner!  The commissioner had the same exact time as three other runners yet they placed her fourth among that group of four.  Places matter in the scoring.  She later said she didn't remember that any runners finishing in a dead heat with her, much less three others.

Greg, who was credited with a 19:40, and I ran back to the office from the race site to begin our work day, a run of 4 more miles.  It was a delightful start to the morning.

The Commish, Part Six.

I have run two races this year, and this would be one of them, quite unexpectedly so.  Where was our last team member?

To avert disqualification, because all five runners must run in order for the team to be scored, two minutes before race time I went to the scorer's table, picked up the last bib and pinned it on.  "Just call me Andy," I said to Greg.  (I was a volunteer at the race in 2010, and I met Meb for the 2d time.)

Greg was delighted.  "Do you think you can pace the commissioner to a 7:30 first mile?"

"Sure," I said, "but that's as good as it gets with me these days and it will use me up for the rest of the race, Greg."  I really hadn't trained or prepared myself for a fast three miles but I was going to try to get the team captain off to a good start while the three burners on the team jack-rabbited off.  (The 2010 team was captained by Commissioner Brill, white-framed sunglasses.)

The Commish, Part Five.

Race day for the team 3-miler dawned.  I was the coach for my agency's entry in the ACLI Capital Challenge and I got up early to take Metro to Anacostia Park so I could cheer my team members on, especially the captain, Commissioner McSweeny, who I had solicited to head up the team and been training with since she was new to running a competitive race.  (The last time I actually ran the race was in 2009 when I finished the 3-mile course in 22:54, my slowest time in the series.)

The race started at 8 o'clock in the morning and I exited the Orange Line at the Eastern Market stop and jogged down Pennsylvania Avenue the mile and a half to the race site, running across the bridge over the Anacostia River which afforded me a grand view of the entire 3 mile race course.  It was a simple one and a half mile run down the embankment-hugging roadway entrance to the park, a turn around a cone set in the road, and a return to the start line which now would be the finish line.  (Meb was there that year, fresh off his NYCM win.)

The team members showed up early, all but one.  The commissioner was already there, and Phil, Tom and Greg soon showed up, with only Andy being tardy.  (Where was Andy?  Should we be worried?)

As race time approached, I warmed up with the commissioner so she could get off to a fast start because the way she runs, slow to start but strong to finish, her first mile would be crucial.  She had been worried about her pacing that first mile and since she didn't have a sports watch with a stop-watch timer or pacing-distance calculator, she had hit upon the idea of wearing her I-Phone tunes with a specially selected music selection which as it played out as soon as the race start gun went off, would alert her by the conclusion of the first or maybe second song to the arrival of the seven-minute and thirty-second mark, which was the goal time we had set for her her for the first mile.  (Our team captain in 2009 was Commissioner Harbour.)

The Commish, Part Four.

The ACLI Capital Challenge 3-Mile Race in Anacostia was scheduled for Wednesday morning, May 20, 2015.  I had assembled our team with four fast male runners, all of whom could throw down an 18 or 19 minute 3-miler, including one who had actually won the race a few years earlier, and Commissioner Terrell McSweeny, who was new to the team and an unknown factor since she doesn't race much and was very humble about her athletic ability and competitive fire.

I used to run the race myself for the team, but my time was always around 22 minutes and I had deferred to younger, faster runners after my chronic ankle injury set in at the turn of the decade, and limited myself to forming the team each year and doing coaching as necessary.  In the past, two of our commissioners had won awards and the team had come in second one year in its division, which is super competitive since it includes all of the military service teams.

Leading up to the race, once it became apparent that the commissioner, who was a novice to training for a race but did run for conditioning, was faster than me for short runs I turned her over to a faster team member, Greg, for her tempo runs while I ran with her once a week for her LSD of around 5 miles.  I really enjoyed those runs because she is an interesting person with whom I otherwise would have a very limited opportunity to speak with and I always enjoy introducing newer runners to hills, as we did Capital Hill and then the Washington Monument Hill whenever we could.

Greg and I were thinking this might be a very good year because although sworn to secrecy by the commissioner about her progress, we could see that she was a strong runner and a good finisher who could probably run the race several minutes faster than any other commissioner had done in the past.  Greg wistfully said to me, "If only you could run the first mile with her and pace her to a fast but not overly so start, Peter, she would have a super run I am sure."  (The course is controlled because there are many politicians who run this race, so there is security along its length and no bandits are allowed!)

The Commish, Part Two.

Having found a commissioner to captain my agency's entry into the Capital Challenge 3-Miler team race, I went out on an initial 3-mile run with her and discovered that this unschooled runner was virtually as fast as me.  She was capable of throwing down a series of sub-9-minute miles.

A week later we tried the three mile loop I had created on the Mall again.  Now it became clear that she was indeed faster than me.

At the midway point, as I was straining now to keep up with her, I told her to finish ahead of me and she did, finishing her run at in 24:24, almost a two-minute improvement over the week before while I huffed and puffed to come in a full minute behind her.

Hmm.  It was time to turn her training over to one of our agency's fastest runners, a team member who had always come in fastest at our team's prior races.

Surprise!

Every year Congress challenges the Executive Branch, the Judicial Branch and the Press to a 3-mile race in the District along the banks of the Anacostia River. Last year my Agency's team won the Second Place Team Plaque for the Executive Division, a big deal because our division has all the service teams (Army, Navy, the Coast Guard etc.).

Our Captain took the First Place Medal for Sub-Cabinet Head, Female. We kicked butt, in other words. (Left: The team in April.)

The winning team, Army, placed two runners in the top five, finishing in second and fifth in the division. Our two top runners got between these two stars and finished third and fourth in the division. (Right: Half a year later. Our rock star Greg, second from the right, was third in the race, next to him is Andy who was fourth.)

What a battle royal that must have been. I was too far back to observe it but it must have been exciting as it played out.

A bonus from last year's race was that American marathoner Meb Keflezighi ran in the race, only three days after he PRed with a sub-2:10 at London. Meeting him after the 3-mile race last year was cool.

Six months later Meb ran away from a world-class field and won New York. (Left: Our Team Captain holds our Runnerup Plaque.)

Meb has been a hero of mine ever since he silvered in the marathon at the Athens Olympics. Now he is the first American male to win a major in decades. (Right: Adrian Fenty on the left, the world's fastest mayor, poses at the 3-mile race with America's current world-beater marathoner.)

Three years earlier our team had done well and finished seventh, when our Team Captain took the Third Place Medal in his age category. We asked the bemedaled Captain from that earlier team to present the current Team Captain with the hardware we we received from the race administrators. (Left: Our former Team Captain on the right, who medaled in the 2006 race, stands with our current Team Captain.)

In a little surprise ceremony today, he presented the Captain with her individual medal and the team plaque. Although surprised, she was very collected and appreciative that we all came by to bestow the swag. It was very cool. (Right: Can't touch this. The first place medal earned last year by our Team Captain.)

The Capital Challenge 3-Miler Revisited

I already told you that last month my agency fielded a team at the ACLI Capital Challenge. The legislative branch challenges teams from the executive and judicial branches and the news media to a 3-Mile race. It's a free for all.

There are some drawbacks to this race. Each team has to be comprised of staff members or employees (no "friends" or guest runners), have a female and be captained by the head of the department or office. In other words, the Senator or Representative or judge or admiral . . . you get the idea. This is likely to be an older person who probably sits around a lot, except for the service teams. The admirals and generals are rarely old and never sedentary. As a matter of fact, the service teams usually kick as*, and they are in my agency's pool, the Executive Division.

No matter. We won an award for being the runner up Executive Branch team. Our agency rock star, G, kicks as*. And this year I uncovered a 20-something paralegal, A, who also kicks as*. G finished 3rd in the Executive Division (11th overall), and A finished right behind him (12th overall). It's as if we cloned G. (Right: The 2009 Federal Tread Commission team: yours truly, A, G, M, and our team captain.)

The winning Army team fielded its usual duo of ringers and they were gonna finish 2nd and 3rd, except that G and A got between 'em and caused the second Army guy to finish 5th instead. I didn't see this because I was back about a mile at the time, but it was apparently very exciting.

Our secret weapon, though, wasn't our clone, it was our Commissioner. She satisfied two requirements, captain and female. And she placed first in her category of Sub Cabinet Head, Female. Can't touch that! (Left: Our team captain, Commissioner Pamela Jones Harbour, won her division.)

Can you identify the race's two honorary runners in the photo to the right?

A Challenging 3-Mile Run

My agency fielded a team at the ACLI Capital Challenge 3-Mile Race this morning for the fourth straight year. It’s a racing challenge issued by the legislative branch to the judicial and executive branches and to the media, to field teams of five runners (one has to be a woman) who are employees of that particular agency, department or branch. Each team has to be captained by the head of the office (in our case, a Commissioner).

The service teams are in the Executive Division and they usually dominate because they can always find a fit admiral or general to run and then each service sends four ringers from their competitive athletic corps. So it’s usually the Navy, Coast Guard or Army jockeying for first place with the rest of us content to be also-rans. It’s a lot of fun.

We had a pretty good team this year. Our agency’s rock-star G led the team for the fourth straight year with an 18:15, a few seconds slower than his time from last year (hey, he just ran a 3:09 at Boston nine days earlier). G was shocked to see a new addition to our team this year, a paralegal about half his age, on his shoulder at MP 2. Perhaps a moment of doubt about his continued supremacy flitted through his mind, but when G made a strong move with a quarter mile to go, the paralegal couldn’t match it and finished two seconds back. Both men were a few seconds ahead of the very fit DC mayor, Adrian Fenty, the baddest running mayor in the US, a point of pride to them both afterwards.

Despite a sore foot, M was right at about 20 minutes and came in next for our team. I was next at 22:51. I have not trained for anything recently and I was worried that my time for this race might push past 23 minutes for the first time. However, I ran steadily (7:15, 7:41, 7:55) and, given my current lack of conditioning, well for me.

Our captain, the Commissioner, came in at a few seconds over 30 minutes, a tremendous achievement for a non-runner (she did train for this, however) running in her first ever race. I don’t know where our team finished but it was a successful morning, topped off by the very cool fact that I was able to chat for a few moments with American elite runner Meb Keflezighi, the silver medalist at Athens who was a mere two days removed from being the first American at London this year. I beat him, so I gave him some secret running tips. Actually, though, I think he let me and many others in the field finish ahead of him, as he ran the entire race alongside the representative who he was a guest of.

The 2008 ACLI Capital Challenge

The Mission assigned to me by the Chairman's representative in 2006: Assemble a team of five for the ACLI Capital Challenge 3-Mile Race, in which teams from the Senate, Congress, Executive Branch, Judiciary and the Media race each other. Each team in our Executive Division had to be captained by a Commissioner, be comprised of agency staffers and contain a female. There were similar team requirements for all the Branches.

The Challenge: Find a Captain. The oldest Commissioner stepped forward. He trained hard and won third in his category of Captains over 59. I already knew a fast woman runner in my agency, A, and our rock star, G, agreed to run.

In 2006, we finished 7/28 in the Executive Division, 15/113 overall. Our individual finishes in the field of 642 were 43, 122, 162, 165 and 424. Our times were G 19:14 (6:25), M 21:22 (7:07), A 22:04 (7:21), me 22:09 (7:23), Commissioner 26:59 (9:00). (Right: The Commissioner accepts his age group medal in 2006.)

We were ebullient over our good showing. For me it was a PR by six seconds of 22:09 (7:23) at the 3-mile distance. But my PR in the longer 5K distance, 21:58 (7:05) set in 2001, was still lower and I really wanted to break 22 minutes in a 3-Miler race, which are few and far between.

In the 2007 race, I had to replace M and his 21:22. The Commissioner was injured but gamely ran anyway because no other Commissioner could or would run (no Captain, no team, no race).

G improved by a full minute in the first slot, and A stepped up into the number two slot and more than replaced M's time. We lost time in the three through five slots, however. I wilted in the heat and felt like I let the team down when I ran 21 seconds slower than the prior year, losing almost half a minute in the third spot. Newcomer C did an excellent job, running sub-8 minute miles, although we lost over a minute in the fourth slot. The Commissioner couldn't overcome his injury, which prevented him from training, and we lost a few minutes in the fifth slot. (Left: The 2007 team, A, G, the Commissioner, me and C.)

In 2007, we finished 14/33 in the Executive Division, 36/124 overall. Our individual finishes in the field of 670 were 29, 145, 217, 280 and 615. Our times were G 18:14 (6:05), A 21:09 (7:03), me 22:30 (7:30), C 23:34 (7:51), Commissioner 32:35 (10:52).

The team slipped by 6:14 last year. C'est la guerre.

In this year's race, I had to find a woman to replace A and her 21:09. The Commissioner was still injured but gamely ran anyway when another Commissioner who stepped forward to run became injured (no Captain, no team, no race).

G improved by seven seconds in the first slot, M came back in the number two slot and we improved there by over a minute and a half, while I took over a minute off the third slot's time. We lost time in the four and five slots, however. Newcomer K did an excellent job, running sub-9 minute miles, although we lost over two minutes in the fourth slot. The Commissioner couldn't overcome his injury, which prevented him from training, and we lost a few seconds in the fifth slot.

In 2008, we finished 12/29 in the Executive Division, 35/108 overall. Our individual finishes in the field of 606 were 21, 58, 145, 354 and 557. Our times were G 18:07 (6:02), M 19:25 (6:28), me 21:25 (7:08), K 25:40 (8:33), Commissioner 32:40 (10:53).

The team improved by 45 seconds this year. We all felt triumphant. Team races, where everyone pulls hard for everyone else, are a blast. This race in Anacostia Park, SE, is a scenic, flat out-and-back along the Anacostia River. It runs under three bridges.

Personally, my splits for the 3 miles were 6:49, 7:19 and 7:15, for a PR by 44 seconds of 21:25 (7:08). I went out fast and held on, even finding a tiny bit of reserve at the end. I nailed the distance. It was just one of those races.

Take a day off!

One day. What a difference one day makes.

My left ankle has been tender for awhile now. I woke up on Monday with it sore from my weekend training, which was a diminished workload anyway.

On Saturday I ran seven miles with my 10K Group Training Program at a ten-minutes-per-mile pace. That program’s 10K race is only three weeks away and since I was one of only two coaches who showed up, I took half the runners out.

On Sunday I practiced running at an 8:30-minutes-per-mile pace, the target pace I set for the upcoming marathon which I recently signed up for. I averaged 8:09 for the first five miles, not very close to an 8:30 pace you might say, but for those of us who still don’t have a Garmin, we have to just run by feel on the trail from one milepost to another, and see where we’re at on the watch when we arrive. I then ran the sixth mile in 7:38 to practice bearing down at the end.

Monday my ankle was suffering so I "just" ran a mile, at what I hoped was an easy 8-minute pace (7:51). Tuesday morning I lay in bed wiggling my ankle and I decided to take a day off from running, a decision I second-guessed all day long. I had put together a team for my agency for a 3-mile race coming up the next morning (today), the ACLI Capital Challenge, and my ankle was not feeling good all day long yesterday.

This morning though, my ankle felt much better after a full day of rest. Imagine that! (Right: A, M and G at the 2006 ACLI Capital Challenge 3-Mile Race in Anacostia Park in SE. The race t-shirts were yellow that year. After running a 21:22, M didn't run the next year.)

I slipped on my heavy ankle brace and went off to the 8 am race, feeling that perhaps I wouldn’t let the team down this year. It was a beautiful morning to run, cool, breezy and sunny, with no humidity. (Left: My agency's 2007 team. The race t-shirts were green last year. After running a 21:09, A departed the agency.)

I was third on my team of five, finishing over three minutes behind my agency’s rock star, G, and two minutes behind M, who always beats me but who has been absolutely killing me lately at the monthly noontime Tidal Basin 3K race. However, I achieved my personal gold standard because I hit every one of my pre-race goals. I PR’ed, broke 22 minutes for the distance, got my 3-mile PR faster than my 5K PR and beat my doppelganger Peter, who had beaten me the prior two years. I’ll give you a race report after the official results go up.

ACLI Capital Challenge 2007

Two weeks ago I ran in the ACLI Capital Challenge, an invitational 3-mile race, where teams from the legislative (Senate and House teams), executive and judicial branches and the Fourth Estate (Print and Electronic media teams) compete. Each team has five members, one of them a woman, and has to be captained by a Senator, Representative, Chief, Judge or Bureau Head. All five members on a team are scored by the place they finish in the race, and those place numbers are added up. The team with the lowest total wins.

I said in a previous post that it was a low point of my running career. It was a depressing morning.

I have assembled the team for my agency for the last two years. Last year the agency head who was our captain won an award in his age category, Male Captain Over 60. Our team did well last year, coming in 15th out of 113 teams. I PRed at the 3 mile distance in 22:09. I was fourth on our team. A beat me by five seconds.

However, our captain was injured as a result of training for that race and this year he asked me to find someone else if I could. No other head of the agency was available, so he stepped up to the plate again. His injury was still bothering him and he could only train on a bicycle.

C replaced one runner who ran a 21:22 last year who couldn’t participate again. I thought I was ready for the race and felt confident I could break 22 minutes (7:20 pace). Ten days earlier I had passed the three mile mark in a 10-mile race in 21:57. I had been training fast 3-milers with A and I had bet her that I would beat her this year. I thought I was in the same league as her. (Training for the Capital Challenge with A and Jake on the W&OD Trail outside the Beltway in Fairfax, Virginia.)

The early Wednesday morning out-and-back gun-timed race in Anacostia Park SE was down a flat two-lane blacktop along the south bank of the Anacostia River. I was too far back in the starting chute to get a good break out of the gates. It took me 15 seconds to cross the start line. A was up front with G, our team’s ace, and they both got away cleanly.

The first half mile I had to run on the grass where the spectators were standing to get clear of all the slow moving runners. I did a 7:10 first mile by race time. I thought I was on track for my PR, with 10 seconds already in the bank. I also knew for sure that I wasn’t going to catch A, who was motoring. (A was ready for this race and, more importantly, its aftermath.)

The second mile was not so great. I started noticing how humid it was, which bothered me after the long cold winter. I did a 7:34. I thought I could still PR if I could step it back up the last mile. It wasn’t going to happen. I started crawling up the road thinking, I could stop and still do allright if I walked it in from here.

I let myself and my team down by sluggishly running a 7:45 last mile. I never picked it up. I finished at 22:30 (7:30), 21 seconds slower than last year. A year older, that much slower. (Entertainment was provided. A local juggler with a running problem. Instead of headphones, try this when you're bored with running.)

I had teammates looking to me for help in the scoring. I didn’t dig deep.

A year ago I finished in 165th place. This year I fell to 217th place, a veritable free fall.

Our rock star, G, poured it on for us. He was one full minute faster than last year, finishing in 18:14 (6:05). He improved his place from 43rd a year ago to 29th. (G came ready to play. How about finishing 29/670?)

A also stepped it way up, running 55 seconds faster than a year ago. She finished in 21:09 (7:03) and improved her place from 162nd to 145th.

Those two gave the team a combined gain of 31 places from a year earlier. I gave it all back plus some with my solitary loss of 52 places from a year ago. I also realized that A is seriously faster than me and when she runs with me, it’s nice that she lets me hang with her.

C ran an excellent time of 23:34 (7:51) in his first race.

However, the worst was yet to come.

As a veteran runner, a former EMT, and a coach, I tell people who run that Rule Number One is: Don’t Injure Yourself. But sometimes the mania of running causes me to use less than my best judgment. Our captain wasn’t close to 100% this year. I knew it. Still, he came to play. But I should have let the team lapse this year.

After I finished the race, I watched for our captain. Soon he came into view with A running alongside of him. She had gone back after finishing to encourage him. He was hurting, running on pure determination and she was watching him closely. Two hundred yards from the finish, he stumbled. A caught him and prevented him from going down in the road. Thanks for being there, A.

The medical personnel were there in a flash and checked out our captain as a precaution. Being the tough competitor and former 3:00 marathoner that he is, our captain insisted on finishing. Which he did.

He was okay.

We finished 36th out of 124 teams this year.

I walked the four miles back to work. It was an hour of reflection.

I was depressed for awhile about this event. How shall I put it? It was a personal letdown, which also let teammates down. I did not pull my weight, much less exert a positive influence. I exercised suspect judgment, and someone came close to getting injured.

So much angst over 21 seconds. You’re not supposed to feel this way about running. Fortunately I have running to help me get over it.

ACLI Capital Challenge 2006

A year ago when I was new to the board of my agency’s Wellness Committee, having recently started the running program at work, my agency received a Congressional invitation to the Capital Challenge 3-Mile Race. It was forwarded to me.

This was the twenty-fifth consecutive running of this invitational race, held every year on the first Wednesday in May at 8 am. I remembered Bex telling me that she ran it the prior year. The invitational race’s concept is simple–in the spirit of collegiality a race is run where individuals race each other on teams competing with other teams within their particular category.

There are six categories of teams: Senate, House, Executive, Judicial, Print Media and Electronic Media. Each team has five members, one of whom must be a female and all of whom must finish. All team members must be on the staff of the team captain (i.e., no guest runners).

All team members score. Each individual’s place in the larger race is added to his team score, and the lowest scoring team wins. And the most important rule–each team must be headed by a bonafide chief. This means a Senator, a Representative, an agency head, a judge or a media bureau head. Chiefs are generally older, and they are often non-running folks. Some might say this is a sure recipe for disaster (like in Heart Attack). (The race sponsors always put on a nice post-race buffet. 100% of the proceeds from the race go to the DC Special Olympics.)

I put together a team at my agency. We were in the executive branch and last year we did pretty well. Our team captain won an award for placing in his individual category of Captains over 60. We finished 7th out of 28 teams in our category and 15th out of 113 teams overall. In the executive category, we finished one point ahead of the eighth place team and two points ahead of the ninth place team. We were way off the pace for sixth place. In other words, everyone on the team finished exactly right and we nailed it.

The results are always skewed by the service teams. Last year the Navy or Coast Guard teams took three of the top five spots in the executive branch. Five out of the first ten runners were servicemen. These are young guys from the service running teams who are stationed in DC, probably for this very event. Their team captains are usually some forty year old ship’s commander, not a sexagenarian agency head who normally runs twelve minute miles twice a week to keep the weight down. So the members of my team informally threw out three of the top results in our category and unofficially awarded ourselves fourth place.

Our rock star, G, finished in 19:14, in 43rd place out of 642 runners. The rest of our team finished in 122nd (M, 21:22), 162nd (A, 22:04), 165th, and 424th (26:59) place. (M leaving after the race. The race shirts last year were a distinctive mustard color, easy to spot on the Mall for several weeks thereafter. That's RFK above the treeline on the other side of the Anacostia.)

I have mentioned each of the staff runners by initial in previous posts. Yours truly came in fourth for our team in 22:09. Our woman, A, beat me by five seconds, charging by me the last hundred yards. I was injured at the time (hamstring, a miserable injury) and could not respond to her late surge. Remember me saying that the difference between seventh and ninth place in the executive category was a mere two points? Her late sprint undoubtedly secured seventh place for us. A did a great job and deserved her place three spaces in front of me. Everyone on our team did a great job, especially the team captain who stunned everyone with his excellent time. It was a PR for me by six seconds anyway.

The race itself was a delight. It was held in Anacostia Park in SE along the Anacostia River on a level two-lane blacktop. It was a one and a half mile sprint downriver, a tight turn around a cone and a run back to the finish. It was flat and fast, so long as you could get out of the crowded starting chute in good shape (the scoring is by gun time, not net time).

Everyone was happy. The Wellness Committee even had a little get-together later at which the Chairman presented the team captain with a commemorative token.

Furthermore, I am old enough to know who Jim Ryun is. He was the Kansan racing star at KU who for nine years in the sixties and seventies held the world record for the mile. It seemed like he was always on the cover of Sports Illustrated when I was growing up. He made racing exciting. His epic battles with Kenyan Kip Keino were legendary. Until he got thrown out with other Republicans last November, thanks to the Decider, Ryun was a congressman from Kansas. His Team Ryun always did well at the race, winning the House team category in 2005 and 2004. Well, here I was in the same race as the most famous runner in the world from my boyhood. I even finished ahead of him by 36 seconds. (I think he was running injured.) Talk about attending a dream fantasy camp!

That was last year. This year it all went very much differently from the start. I knew it would be much more uncertain but I thought I knew two things for sure. I would break 22 minutes finally, and I would give A a battle and hopefully beat her in the race.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Last Wednesday was a fiasco. It made me feel as low as I have ever felt about running. I guess I’ll tell you about it in a later post.