A Long Slow Slog Down Quick Road

During my mile-less running week, I officially shit-canned the Shamrock 15-K, a race that immediately ascended to one of my favorites after I ran it for the first time last year. The course is brutally hilly but beautifully set in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

Of the 9.3 miles, about two of them are on relatively flat ground, the bulk of the course involves a steep three-mile descent into the Cuyahoga River valley on Quick Road and a malicious climb back up on Northampton Road.

Aside from the topography, it's a wonderful run, full of pretty scenery with ravines, trees, snow-covered fields, bounding deer and the occasional flock of wild turkeys. Since I would not be racing this course this Sunday, I decided to run it yesterday. But at a decidedly slower pace than last time.

Quick Road is steep, winding and narrow. I love driving on this road, but running on it when it was not blocked off for the race felt a little dicey. Thankfully, it is not a heavily traveled road and the few cars I encountered tracked widely around me, perhaps to avoid being blinded by my fluorescent yellow and orange running gear.

My goal for the run was to keep my stride short and focus on turn-over. With the steep ups and downs, that wasn't difficult. However, when the terrain leveled and I had the urge to speed up, I caught myself trying to lengthen my stride instead taking faster steps.

At times my mind would flash back to last year's race: Martini and I flying down Quick Road, the man and woman who kept yo-yoing me on the hills on Northampton and finally the man in the sleeveless windbreaker who didn't pass with authority. It's a shame I'm going to miss the race this year.

Running the course by myself gave me time to appreciate the scenery. There were times I was wanted to stop and take pictures -- and if my phone's battery weren't dying, I would have.

On Akron-Peninsula Road, during the stretch between Quick and Northampton, I spotted three deer running in a field off to my right, they made a wide S-curve and then two of them bounded across the road about 100 feet ahead of me.

The third one must have gotten distracted because I spotted it darting around some trees. I worried that it too would bolt across the road as soon as I got to where the other two had crossed. I looked to my left and saw one of the two way up on the hill, looking down. Soon I would have to climb a similar incline.

Occasionally, while driving to work in this same area, I'll see a turkey walking by the side of the road. Usually, they're pretty scrawny, not something you'd want to plop on the table for Thanksgiving dinner. However, as I was plodding up Northampton, I spied a whole flock--about a dozen in number--of turkeys in front of a house. All of these big birds looked meaty and scrumptious. Alas, I passed them by, though, not without the temptation to give chase.

I finished the run at just over 10 minutes per mile. I felt strong after the long climb and probably could have pushed my pace a little more. But after not running since the Sunday before, I didn't want to push my luck. My calves and thighs are sore today, though in a good way.

Thus ended February. Here is last month's statistical rundown:

• Total Miles: 46 miles (9 runs)
• Highest Weekly: 24 miles
  
• Average Weekly: 11.5 miles
  
• Average Pace: 10:25.18 per mile
  
• Longest/Fastest Run: 9 miles, 10:13 pace
  
• The Monthly Dif: -7 miles (53 miles in January)

Everything was worse in February. My miles were down, as were my total runs and my weekly average. The only things that went up were my pace and my highest weekly mileage. My goal for the year is to average 20 miles per week, and I'm well off that.

Race Report: 'That's All I Got'

We zipped past the ninth mile marker shoulder to shoulder. I had been drafting the man in the sleeveless windbreaker for the past mile after he made a weak move to pass me on Steels Corners Road. He never got more than 20 strides ahead of me, and with three-tenths of a mile to go I wouldn't let him win.

I arrived at the Shamrock 15-K with no expectations. I didn't feel trained, and I'd never raced the course or the distance. And on this day, a hard rain fell and never let up. It was the kind of miserable weather that makes you really appreciate your cheering section.

The race starts at Woodridge High School, descends into the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, and then loops back. From the fourth mile to the sixth, you are running a steep uphill.

Click on the map to view the elevation.
As you can see, I didn't get the exact distance.

Before the race started, I realized I didn't strap on my watch. It was sitting in the car, but I decided to run without it. I know all you techno nerds are probably pooping your tech shorts, but unlike you I can run on feel.

I was worried that I'd look at my early splits and disregard the need to save energy for the climb up from the valley. Instead I kept an even pace with Martini until after the third mile before I let him go to regroup. I attacked the two-mile uphill stretch methodically, following the rhythm of my breath to power me upward: in-in-in, out-out.

A man and woman yo-yo'd me for about a mile, speeding past me and then slowing to a walk. Finally I got past them for good before the turn onto Steels Corners where the course flattened. Then I began to pick up the pace for the final stretch.

I heard the man's footsteps behind me when the eighth mile marker was in view. He crept upon me and stayed just off my right shoulder for about a quarter mile and then he slowly surged to my side and then finally ahead of me.

The man in the sleeveless windbreaker continued to ebb farther ahead of me for the next quarter mile and I almost decided to let him go, but then he slowed and I knew I had him beat. I would not make his mistake.

We turned off Steels Corners and I reeled him in. I settled in behind him. He seemed to falter at times and I got shoulder to shoulder with him, but then he'd recover and I'd get behind him again.

Before the final turn onto Quick Road the man made a move that I perceived was meant to break me. He surged ahead, but I did not follow and before long his pace slackened. I took the final turn with a tight arc and was back at his shoulder and we passed the ninth mile dead even.

The finish was just beyond a bend in the road. I crashed ahead. I wasn't sure I had a finishing kick worth three-tenths of a mile. I could feel myself slipping. The finish was in view. Then I heard the footsteps just off my right shoulder.

I could see the sleeveless windbreaker in my peripheral. I needed to approach the puke threshold. Go legs, go, I begged to myself. I ebbed ahead and kept the footsteps behind me. Then he spoke.

"That's all I got. It's yours," the man panted.

I let out a barking laugh and finished him off.

In the finishing chute the people ahead of me as usual were taking too long. I handed over my bib tag and slipped under the ropes so as to bend over double in case of projectile. There was none. I turned around and saw the man in the sleeveless windbreaker.

"Nice finish," I said. Not as nice as mine, I thought. We shook hands and parted. He beat me inside the school for shelter.