Susan G. Komen's Race for the Cure 5K

Fate works in interesting ways.

I was not planning to run this race at all. Just wasn't on my radar but less than a week before the race, I was talking to a running buddy about, what else, running when Nitza walked in on our conversation. Nitza is currently fighting breast cancer.

I can't quite call Nitza a colleague from work, though we do work together in a way. She's in the human resources and labor relations office of one the agencies my Union represents, which means we very often sit at opposing sides of the table and have argued countless times. However I have no reservations calling her a friend. She has been with the agency for several years now and sure, we fight but its all with the best of intentions and absolutely no hard feelings. It's the job.

So, Nitza walks in on us talking about running, turns around and asks me "Are you gonna be with us on Sunday?". It was her look more than what she said. A million thoughts rushed into my head and  flashed before my eyes. "Are you gonna be with us?" It wasn't that she needed me personally to be there. It was more about support. Group support for her and the many women suffering from breast cancer. All this happened in a millisecond but for me the answer was obvious. "I'll be there." was all I could say and left. Suddenly, I never wanted to do a race more than right at that moment.

Thankfully, the race organizers set up shop in an empty store on one of Puerto Rico's biggest malls to sign up people right up to the very last day so on Friday I walked in and signed up. It was all very organized and quick. I think it took me all of 10 minutes from filling out the form to paying and walking out.

I was not quite ready for what I encountered on Sunday. This was the biggest draw of any race I have ever done in Puerto Rico. Bigger than the World's Best 10K even. The atmosphere was electric. Everyone seemed happy to be there and there were A LOT of teams from different companies and organizations. All decked out in some form of pink or white, which of course made me stand out more than usual with a blue shirt. But the shirt included in registration was cotton and not available in my size so I got one for my wife.

The starting line was an interesting exercise. There were parallel starting lines for walkers and runners, which covered the entire avenue sidewalk to sidewalk. I guess it makes sense. The starting gun was for both groups at the same time, with the runners naturally taking the lead and leaving the walkers to bring up the rear. Eventually, both lanes converged into one huge group but by then, everyone is pretty much where they need to be speed-wise so there was no unnecessary traffic problems. At least not enough for it to be a problem.

Which brings me to the race itself. Running was not really the point here. Oh, I'm sure the runners up front had a great time sprinting down to the finish but for the immense majority gathered this was about something else. I was plenty happy with the PR in my previous race and had no intention of chasing a number on this one so after taking off and posting my first mile somewhere in the 12's I decided to step back and walk most of the way. There was just this great vibe all around and I wanted to take it all in. So without any set intervals I walked some then ran some all the way to the finish. At 43 minutes and change, this is my slowest 5K in years but who cares?

This is not the first time they do this race in Puerto Rico but I do think this was the biggest so far. Hopefully it will get bigger. I do want to give people who are thinking of doing this race next year some advice though. Respect the distance. Sadly, a lot of people came to the race thinking that since they were just walking, it would be easy. It wasn't. The heat and humidity conspired for some grueling conditions and the amount of people who ended up on stretchers or an ambulance was large enough for the news to report on it. So get some miles under you before the race and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!

I never did run into Nitza that day. With so many people there it would have taken a miracle but still, I wore the tag and ran in her name. For her, and all the women suffering from the disease. 

"My First Steps" Charity Ride

Interesting turn of events. Didn't expect my first "race recap" of 2015 to be about cycling but here we are.

Actually, this is not really a race recap as this was not a race, but it's the cycling equivalent of a race. Sure, there are cycling races but since I don't foresee me participating in any of those at this time, these group rides will serve the same purpose for me. They are a measure of where I am fitness-wise, just like when I run in races.

When it comes to cycling, I'm just barely getting my feet wet. Up until this week my longest ride had been 20 miles. While my behind might not agree with me, the miles I have put in so far have been relatively flat and easy. I try to put some effort into it and ride fast but up until now, I have been doing the running equivalent of a short, easy run.

Which is why I found it extremely weird when an old friend invited me to a group ride for charity, that I said yes.

He literally contacted me right after I had done my first (and longest) 20 mile ride. I thought about saying no. I did not know if I was ready for that. Not only the miles but keeping up with a group. He tried to ease my concerns: "Look, we are gonna try to keep the group together. 15-17 miles per hour tops. If you get tired, you can ride in the sweep van." The flyer said it was from Toa Baja (two towns from mine) to the town square of Vega Alta (my hometown). Could I stick with a group riding that fast? Could I handle the mileage? I was scared but I could tell he wanted the ride to succeed and help out this center for children so I said yes.

Captain's Meeting and registration

 Well, as it turns out, both my concerns were not a problem at all. I managed to stick with the group for most of the ride and I managed to ride the whole 40 miles without need to van of shame. The problem my friends, were the climbs.

The freaking,  Everest-like, who-the-heck-came-up-with-this-route, someone-get-a-defibrillator climbs.

See, I was invited to this thing under false pretenses. That route in the flyer was just half of the total ride and it said nothing about riding a Tour de France-level climb. Well, maybe it was not Tour de France-like but it might as well be to me. The guy who just started cycling a month ago. The whole thing started nice enough. We left Toa Baja and rode through "La Ruta del Ciclista" then headed to the town of Dorado. Riding in the peloton (the ride group) was no problem and I was maintaining 15 and 16 mph without much effort. When you see many cyclists riding close together like that, it's because they are working together to beat the wind. I couldn't really feel any difference while in the group but now I look at the data and see that where I usually averaged 14mph I was pulling out 15 and 16 mph without any effort at all.

Ready to head out!

It was a beautiful day and we were riding along the beach. Once in Dorado we climbed a pretty steep, but short hill. It was tough but it didn't last long so I put in some muscle and kept going. We crossed Dorado from east to west until we got to my hometown of Vega Alta where we turned south to get to the town square. It was in this part where I faced my first challenge. I don't know how long it was but we started to climb, and climb, and it would not end. My breathing got heavy, people where passing me left and right and I slowed down to a crawl. I ran out of gears on my bike. I just wanted this torture to end. After what seemed like forever (actually 9 minutes) I reached the top and we did our first stop.

First regrouping stop.

I looked for my friend and told him how hard that climb was for me. His answer: "Yeah, well it's gonna get a lot worse." What?

Turned out that first stop was just to regroup everyone after that climb so we could arrive as a whole group to the real stop which was the Town Square in Vega Alta. My wife brought my daughters to cheer me up. I was so happy to see them. While there, they had the official ceremony where they handed over the donation to the children's home. They were planning on donating $2,000 and ended up giving $5,000 so it was a total success all around. I was given a pack with 2 cup cakes which I ate and put in some new Gatorade bottles on my bike. I left my bottles at home. Rookie mistake.

Two of my girls cheering me on.

Before leaving the square, one of the organizers got on the mic and warned everyone about the upcoming climb and urging people to not quit. Famous last words. Not 5 minutes after starting back up we started to climb. And we did nothing but climb for the next hour and it was some of the steepest roads I have ever seen in my life. Actually I have seen them before. It's my hometown. I just always traveled them by car. I tried all I could to stay on the bike but on two occasions, I was forced to get off and walk up the hill. Not very proud of that moment but that's what you get for biting off more than you can chew. It sure didn't help to hear one of the guys in the support crew bragging about how the sweep van was full of people.

All this climbing spread out the peloton of course, so a couple of re-grouping stops were required to keep everyone together but eventually we made it out of the mountains and unto the main roads where we made our final stop at another gas station. We were 12 miles away from getting back but the climbs were over.

Final stop before finish. 12 more miles?!

After a quick descent, it was flat all the way back to Toa Baja. Would've been a lot easier if not for a bit of trouble I ran into. On the descent I was blocked by some people on the group who were going slower and I got separated from the peloton. When I reached the flats, I encountered some pretty fierce wind in the opposite direction and it slowed me down something terrible. Without the protection of the peloton I fell behind and fought the wind all the way to the finish. As if I wasn't tired enough from all the climbing. 

But, I made it. And I wasn't last either, even though I didn't arrive with the group. They were serving lunch for all the riders but I was too fried. I looked for my friend, choked him to death, then told his corpse to call me whenever they were doing it again. Thing is, I really don't feel that sore even now. It's not like after running the marathon for example where I could hardly move and instead of wishing to never go through something like that again, I'm actually angry enough at myself to go train so I can be able to do it again except better next time. Masochism is a terrible thing.