Lake Takanassee Race 2013

This summer was the 50th anniversary of the venerable Lake Takanassee Road Races in Long Branch. Held every Monday night through the summer, it is the oldest racing series in New Jersey, and well-known nationally through the writings of Dr. George Sheehan. Most of the top runners in the Shore-area have raced there at some point in their careers, and high-school teams often use it as a prep for their runners for the upcoming cross-country season. It's decidedly "no-frills," with a five-dollar entry, no shirts, and the bushes in the nearby trail serving as port-a-potties. Four laps around the brackish lake, with the wind usually coming off the Atlantic. Weave around the parked cars along the street, and yell "on your left" when coming up on lapped joggers and race-walkers. The celebrated "50th Anniversary Race," was held on July 29th, and I wanted to go to see some old compatriots and get in the commemorative 50th-anniversary group picture. Unforseen things at the club got in the way, however, and I couldn't make the hour-ride down the Parkway and get there for the 6:45 p.m. start. I made a mental note to try for the next week, but unsure if I could make it, did eight miles and a heavy chest workout on Sunday, and had six hours of training (lunges, squats, push-ups, and planks) with some fit clients on Monday. Still, with a colonoscopy scheduled for the next week, I knew this was my only chance to get down there before the series ended, so down the Parkway I went. I fortified my tired mind and body with a Diet Coke after the drive down, and tried to psyche myself up. Hoyle Mozee, a longtime running friend and race volunteer, saw me stretching and asked why I wasn't there last week for the big reunion. "I tried," I replied, "how did the old guys do?" "Bill Scholl (another old friend and former winner of the Philadelphia Marathon) won it in 20:30, and a few people were right in back of him, "Mo" replied. "Then they all went out for some beers and told a bunch of stories about the old days." I vaguely had been hoping to come near 20 minutes, even with my heavy day's workload, tired body, chronic achilles tendonitis, and pulled lower stomach muscle. After hearing that Scholl, about seven years older than my 54, but a former 2:18 marathoner, had run 20:30, I think I mentally re-adjusted what I felt would be a respectable time on this particular night. While there were other acquaintances amongst the volunteers, I didn't recognize many of the faces actually competing, and didn't have anyone to pace with. The Ocean Twp. cross-country team was there, as well as some college runners, so there were definitely some good runners amongst the crowd of 100 or so. The high school kids darted out fast, and I tucked in with a few of the them through the first mile, which we hit in 6:22. While not in total oxygen debt, the first mile did feel fast on this particular evening. Feeling I'd have to rely on mental strength in the second mile, I said to myself, "no one passes you from here on out." With so many inexperienced runners out in front of me, I was able to stay true to that credo, all the while slowing down myself. While I probably passed five or six high schoolers in the second mile, my two-split was a rather unsightly 13:04. "Just gut out the third," I grimaced to myself, and managed to do so, weaving through the afore-mentioned cars, joggers, and walkers to finish in exactly 20:30. I felt spent, and my hear-rate was 168, but after catching my breath, wondered, "did hearing the 20:30 that Scholl ran, sub-consciously just having me aim for that time? If he had run, say, a 20:10, would I have pushed myself to hit that?" Those are the unansweable questions of racing, and what draws some people to continue to do it at ages when common sense and aching body parts say not to. I threw a hooded sweatshirt on, caught up with a few other people I hadn't seen in 20-plus years, and collected my 50-59 age group first place medal. I placed 13th overall, and basically was satisfied with the night's effort. I got in the car, had the windows down driving through the summer sunset on the Parkway, and listened to Alex Rodriguez's comeback night for the Yankees on the radio. I hope to be back again next summer.