May 2, 2010
The first point runners use to sell their sport is the lack of necessary gear. All you need is a pair of shoes, they'll say. At no time is running's advantage more apparent than on race morning. I'm writing this blog post on my first race morning of 2010 at a quite reasonable time of day, 6:45 a.m., and I'm afforded this luxurious combination of free time and restedness by running's simplicity.
Other than two years of walk-on swimming in college (where you need a pool, goggles, a towel, and apparel that will fit in the palm of your hand), the dominant sporting activity of my adult life has been triathlon. If I were racing a tri this morning, I'd have spent a solid hour last night coordinating equipment: shoes, socks, tri shorts, tri jersey, gloves, sunglasses, helmet, bike, spare tires, spare tubes, air pump, chain lube, water bottles, various energy gels and powders, sunblock, goggles, wetsuit, wetsuit lube, race belt, running shoes, speedlaces, gym bag, towel, and probably those few items that triathletes are always worried to forget but usually remember if they provide enough opportunities to coordinate race-day equipment.
The race would likely have begun at 9 a.m., and it would have been at a reservoir, which would likely require a half-hour drive to get to. The transition area would have opened at 8 a.m., and I would want to have arrived bright and early to get a choice location and avoid bumping elbows with stallmates. Add in gear-wrangling into and out of the car, and that's a 7:15 a.m. departure and a 6:15 a.m. wake-up, at the latest. Once at the race venue, there's tire-pumping, lugging bike, gym bag, and wetsuit to transition, race number, body marking, and timing chip, sunblock, last-minute hydration, the inevitable porta-potty line, and a three-sport warm-up.
And then there's the attempt at flawless execution of the race-day plan where all that gear serves to speed you up instead of slow you down so that you finish a few minutes faster (though it still takes at least an hour to finish a tri). To be a triathlete requires neurotic organization; there's just too much to remember for it to be a sport for the forgetful or unmotivated. And that's just race day and the day before. Let's not forget a few months of daily periodized training in three sports.
Last fall, I was given the opportunity to take my running more seriously. Since then, life circumstances have forced my (unreluctant!) temporary retirement from triathlon. I've been running instead, and I can appreciate single-sport training over triathlon.
Sure, triathlon forces you to work out every day. Sure, you enjoy fitness in three sports instead of one. Sure, the endless gear wrangling and triplicate gym bags help keep you on your toes.
Cycling's got the pure fun of riding a bike. But, man, you can't race a bike with any panache without spending huge amounts of time riding. Swimming, especially outdoors in mid-summer, is pleasant and scenic, but again, to be competitive takes at least an hour of swimming a day and, frankly, who can stomache getting into a cold pool that often?
Running has its downsides, too (future blog post!), but gear-wrangling is not one of them. Preparing the gear for today's 5K took me about 1 minute per mile. Shirt, shorts, shoes, socks, race belt, charge the Garmin, hat, sunglasses, warmup pants, jacket, and a few colder weather versions of these items. And I actually got a decent night's sleep knowing that the gear was under control and that today's race should take me about 23 minutes (hopefully slightly fewer!).
I'm now back from the run, having dropped 52 seconds from my best 5K time. In my first-ever podium finish, I placed third in my age group (20-39) with a time of 22:18 (Here's the Garmin data.).
But at this race, I didn't just walk away. I took a few minutes to enjoy watching the finishers, many of whom were grade school kids. On my way back to the car, I enjoyed a rare treat: a free post-race coffee.
Running has its advantages!
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