PR-fect.

Sundays and early alarms aren't usually precursors for great experiences. I suppose that's why I woke up before my 4:30 a.m. alarm today (at 4:21).

It was race day, so we walked over to the park in the dark and arrived at the Fleet Face racing team tent around 6:30 a.m. My ankle and Achilles felt nearly healed. Things felt a bit tight when we settled into the warm up, but all was mostly good. I found the good doctor's tent, and he gave me some special black tape along the ridge of my tendon. (For the record, I shaved far more of my leg and foot than I needed to, but oh well.)

I had some initial issues with my watch and locating the satellites a the start line, so my pacing seemed to be in question from the start. I powered down, and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the Garmin to revitalize. For the first mile, I relied upon the pacing of my teammates and the fact that I was in front of the 1:25 pacer. My watch revived about a quarter mile in. I started it up at the beginning of the second mile, and settled into the 6:19-6:25 range.

Miles 3 through 6 were steady at 6:22. I separated from Adam (my teammate), and started chipping off the per-mile pace. I locked in the seventh mile at 6:13, and started knocking a few runners off around the halfway point. It wasn't speed in bursts, but increases in the pace for individual miles. Therefore, when I passed other runners, it was gradual, methodical, and measured.

After a slightly foolish 6:07 eighth mile, I held in around the 6:13-6:19 range for the subsequent couple. I knew I would break the 2009 PR, but I wasn't sure by how much at this point. My watch, remember, didn't have my overall time, so I couldn't depend on my knowledge of the 1:25:10 time to beat, nor the location of the 1:25 pacer. I was largely alone, moreover, running in a spread field of the first 20-30 racers.

I felt fatigue in the quads around mile 9, but didn't fuel with a Gu until the water station at mile 10. I passed another man between mile 10 (Sutterville Road) and the La Rivage hotel, then swooped onto Riverside Boulevard. I felt pretty comfortable at this spot--it's actually my cool down route after my tempo runs on Thursday--so I ramped up a bit at mile 11, which brought the per-mile pace down to 6:09, then again to 6:06. Things started getting tired, however. I started digesting the Gu and my stomach felt full. A few burps helped, along with some loud volunteers at the Sutterville Road overpass who cheered and chanted as I passed.

I caught another runner just before the 12-mile marker. His shirt said, "If you can read this, I just passed you," so he had to go. He was struggling, unfortunately. His stride was more of a bound, but I gathered (and later confirmed) that he was in my age group. I said, "C'mon, baby!" emphatically, as I came up on him. He did not respond, and I don't blame him because I was him, once.

I felt most alone in the last mile even though it ended in the park with the crowds. There were a number of joggers from the 5k and a few sporadic fans spread in through the shade trees. Some teammates gave me encouragement, which helped. By my watch, with 1/2 mile to go, I cut my pace to a 6:02 mile. I never looked at it again, but my uploaded time for the final mile was 5:59.

What I erased in seconds for the 13th mile I more than made up in grimaces. But when I heard my family and saw the clock ticking through the 21st minute of the hour, I pumped my fist jubilantly into the finish line. The final results: 20th overall, 4th in my age group, and 1:21:52--a new PR.

When I tell the story from my first PR in 2009 it sounds so reckless. No watch, no team, no clear goal, and a 3rd place finish in my age group. The PR hang heavy for three subsequent halfs. The Fleet Feet training through March (Shamrock'n 1:25:43) and May (Avenue of the Vines 1:26:50) of 2011 didn't quite get me there, either. I kept coming close, though, so I thought I'd measure my progress today in seconds.

I ran confidently, sure I would finally best the 2009 time. But not by over 3 minutes. Maybe it was the training. It could have been the Garmin watch, or the practice and the recent bump up to F Group. I could credit the doctor, the coach, the shoes, the team, the wife--all of it. But it wasn't just one thing. It was a compilation, and because I believed in it, it paid off.