The Importance of a good Altitude

The week before the Challenge, I had the opportunity to run the 10-mile loop at lunchtime. But it was hotter than I had expected; naturally I didn't carry any water. Afterwards I was slumping in the patio area, drinking ice water and dripping sweat. I probably looked like crap.

This 35-ish guy who works in Marketing came over. "I've heard you run at lunchtime."

I grunted.

"I'm trying to get in shape for a race. It would be really great if we could run together!. What days do you run?"

"I try to run every day."

"What pace to you run at?"

"Usually about 8 minute miles."

"I'm at 8:30 right now, but it would be good to push it a little."

I grunted again.

"How about tomorrow?"

"I'm going on vacation tomorrow. I'll be back in two weeks."

Afterwards I'm thinking I've made a tactical error. I had said 8 minute miles, but in truth, I had been doing 8:30 or slower for the last year or more. That's 42:00 or 42:30 for the 5 mile loop. My best time ever was 37:4x, done more than 4 years ago. And Tony was a well muscled, athletic guy, whom I'd seen in the gym doing handstands and then pushups while standing on his hands.

Fast forward to post vacation daze. Tony emails me - 'Run at lunch?"

I'm laying the groundwork. "OK, but I'm exhausted from my vacation."

So we change in the locker room, walk to the path on the levee, Tony talking. We set off running. My feet feel very light - I haven't run in 2 weeks. But I'm running wwwaaay to fast; Tony is loping along beside me, chattering away.

I can barely gasp a response. After a mile, I'm dying. My chest hurts, I can't talk. I can't keep this up. But Tony keeps loping along, slightly ahead. I hang on.

We cross the bridge and start back on the other side of the creek. Tony exclaims, "This is great! I've never been on this side before!"

I can't even grunt. My lungs are on fire.

Tony lopes along.

We come to the bridge at Zanker. Tony drops back, unsure of the route. I point ahead, and gasp, "Go under."

Tony trots up the incline on the other side.

My attention narrows to the ground in front of my feet, and my lungs, which are raw from gasping for air. Tony disappears into the peripheral clutter, but he's no longer slightly ahead of me.

I forget about Tony. I'm concentrating on keeping going. I ignore my lungs and try to keep up my pace.

I cross the bridge at 237 and start the homestretch. I'm slowing a little, but now it's downwind, and that helps. As I appoach the bridge at Zanker (now on the other side), I look back and Tony is 100 yards behind. I slow a little, thinking to wait for him then think - what the hell - let's push to the finish. My lungs must be gone since they no longer burn.

I cross the starting line in 39:57. Best time in several years.

Tony is a minute behind.

The next day, I start slower and manage a time of 39:27.

Then today I ran 38:44.

It's well established that time at elevation improves sea level running performance.

And I haven't heard from Tony since.