First off, the Carlsbad 5000 is a pretty well known race in the world of road races. The tiny beach town of Carlsbad, California is home to my college coach and American mile legend - Steve Scott. Steve helped design the fast course back in the day, and in it’s 33rd year, it still draws the attention of many sub-elite, masters and professional runners looking to post quick times. I last ran this race in 2006, and had that race T-Shirt on to advertise the fact that I’m beyond my age but still willing to race fast. At my ripeful age of 35, I would now be racing in the 30-39 age group and hoping to dethrone Roosevelt Cook, who has won this race for nearly 6 years in a row. Roosevelt and I have known each other for awhile, and he’s a great Southern California competitor.
For the last month I had been changing up my training to suit the competitive speed that’s required to run a 5000. I also decided to scratch a spring marathon and just have a little fun this spring. Without the stress of marathon training being compromised, I focused back on the track and had some wonderful revelations that I still had some speed in my legs. I did a lot of combo workouts with tempo runs on the track, followed by 800’s or 400’s. Dabbling with quicker turnover felt great! I started to feel like a college kid again, just ripping through some quarters, and clicking off splits that make you smile once you can manage to catch your breath again. So with all that said, I felt ready to race in Carlsbad and win my first Carlsbad 5000m. It was also comforting knowing that I had some teammates out there racing. Brant had raced earlier in the master’s division, and Sal was going to race after me in the 29 and under group. I knew I had to do well and represent the Dukes Track Club as best as possible.
Fast forward to race day, and I could tell with confidence I was ready to win. I was ready to race and to race smart. Once we gathered at the line, I tried not to notice all the other competitors whose sheer physique, flashy racing kits and sweet looking road flats could intimidate the most seasoned runner. All I knew was that I was fit and ready to roll.
When the gun/horn went off, everyone bolted out. I managed to settle in just fine, as so did everyone else. The turn at the top of the hill came quicker than I imagined, and from that point on, I told myself to just relax and tuck in. We had about 8 guys in the lead pack with Roosevelt amongst the group. We cruised through the first mile in 4:48 or perhaps quicker. The 180 degree turnaround wasn’t too far away, and once that came, I still decided to stay close to the group and follow. At about 1 ½, I decided to make a small surge and try to break away. The only one to go with me was Roosevelt, so I figured this was going to be it. But, once we passed mile 2 and a small incline, Roosevelt made another surge, and I thought, “damn it, he knows the course better than me!”. He broke away by a few meters, and I just kept in contact. Then 2 guys passed me at the other 180 degree turn. We had less than 800m to go, and I was suffering in 4th place; I wasn’t even going to be on the podium! I managed to stay relaxed and save a little for a strong kick to nab 3rd and at least get on that damn podium. That plan was about to get derailed…
At the Carlsbad 5000, the finish line sits on a nice 200m downhill… and on the other side of some train tracks. In the past, a train never really interrupts the tops competitors of any of the races. This year would mark a different story. As I was settling in for that last left turn and a sprint kick towards the finish, I actually managed to produce that turnover I was mustering to edge out 3rd place. 1st was a solid 5 seconds up, and 2nd was somewhere unreachable with the small amount of real-estate left after the turn, but 3rd was right there. We were shoulder to shoulder and I was pulling away until I looked up and saw the railroad crossing signs flash and ring away. I thought it was a mistake but started to ease up. Once I saw Roosevelt get stopped by a race official, and then 2nd place stopped, I slowed down and stopped immediately. The gates came down, and a few moments later the train blasted by. The race official started yelling out that he was sorry and that we should stay in our positions. But before anyone knew it, the gates went up and it was a mad sprint to the finish. In the fog of confusion and frustration of knowing that I was going to be well under 15 minutes for a road 5k, you could say I was beyond pissed off! The guy that was in 4th managed to be ready and sprinted to 2nd place, I was left in a moment of confusion and before I knew what to do, I was sprinting all out to get back to my position, but the 80m to the finish just wasn’t long enough for me to make it up. I ended up in 4th in 15:09 with an asterisk.
I honestly hate asterisks. I hate converting my altitude times when I race in Albuquerque, or calculating what I could’ve run if I wasn’t directed the wrong way on a course. This may be why I love the track and discredit most times that aren’t run regularly on the same course or if someone gives me their BS excuse for why they think the course was long because their GPS said differently. I know most people don’t race anymore. I know many people are in fact racing themselves, which is a wonderful way to push themselves and gauge their fitness. A PR or personal best is a wonderful thing to have, and a great motivator, so if race officials over mark a course or undermark a course, it can be frustrating. People are paying to run that distance, so I get that aspect of it. But, it’s hard to validate a performance when there’s inconsistencies.
A race is merely how fast you can get from the start to the finish, and I’m disappointed with myself for not having that tenacity to race from the train to the finish. I felt as if that small bit of disappointment got to me once I had to stop at the train. I somehow managed to turn off my racing mentality when that race official barked orders to us to hold position. The race wasn’t over yet, so why should we stop here at 4920 meters?!?! I should’ve raced until the finish. So, I guess in all my experience with racing, I never had to do that, and now I can thank this race as I continue on as a competitor willing to give everything from start to finish. Anything can happen in a race, and we need to be ready to respond. I’m very glad no one passed Roosevelt, as he was the clear winner on the day. And of course, without a minor debacle there wouldn’t be this post race recap, or encouragement to continue on with training and racing. Which leads me to ponder what to do next?
I’m signed up for some ultra races this summer, and will be attempting to race the Jemez 50k in May, which will be a tough 50k with a ton of vert! But, do I want to give up on running fast times in California, do I want to go back to the oval and hug the rail to a new shinny 5000m PR with spikes flying at your shins? Do I want to feel that wonderful anxiety of sitting around waiting for your event to start at the crack of a starter's pistol…? Or am I too old for all of that? Until I can figure out what path I want to take, I’ll continue to be humbly appreciative of my health and fitness.
Onward and upward!
