I ran the Plate to Plate 5K today in San Francisco. I’ve been back from my stress fracture about a month or so, and thought it would be fun to get a 5K under my belt while I (thought I) had more speed than endurance. Plus, some fine ladies from Stray Bar were running, so it was a no-brainer.

Bit of background on goals: I’d wanted to A) Run at about 7:40 pace; B) Get in on the low side of 24:XX, but definitely 24:XX, or C) Know that I gave it all I’ve got, which barfing would be a pretty good clue.

I have been dealing with an ankle niggle since Tuesday. I ran Bernal Hill, which is like 1/4 uphill, 3/4 downhill, so pretty pounding run. Wednesday I did a couple 800′s at race pace in my Netwtons as practice and the ankle didn’t love it, so took Thurs-Sat off, icing and babying it. Woke up this morning with it not feeling as great as I’d like, but with a warm-up I had faith that it would loosen up fine. It also felt really nicely supported once I put on my Nikes.  (The Newtons have a “negative heel” to force/encourage a mid-to-forefoot strike.  They can be tough on the Achilles and ankles at first.)

I do my normal raceday stuff and grab my Garmin off the charger to head out the door and… it’s dead. Completely. WTF? I put it back on the charger, wait to be sure it’s actually charging, and head out to do my warm-up from my house. I run halfway down Bernal Hill and then do a mile loop and run back up the hill. Bummed that my ankle seems pretty angry, but it was mostly on the hills, so I hope the flat course will be fine. My garmin’s at 25% at this point, so cool… out the door I go.

Park on Bryant street and jog to the start. The ankle is feeling good on the flat. Awesome.

Get to the start and survey the startline. This does not bode well: On the line are about 4-5 kids in the 8-10 age-range, a few parental-types and 3 folks stretching like elites. Behind them, a mass of humanity in which I spy lots of stroller and kids and clearly no kind of “pace-based” line-up system. About 50 feet back I see in the crowd a dude with an inflatable sex doll in a bikini on his shoulders, flanked by a fellow in a lime green g-string “pretzel” swimsuit.  This is going to be interesting.

I walk back to where I can enter the corral and see my Stray Bar friends whose goal is to jog the whole thing and wish them well, then try to push forward some.

I end up about 10 feet behind Sex Doll Dude and G-String Guy. I notice, somewhat disconcertingly, that the bikini is not covering the “backdoor business” of said inflatable sex doll, which is located approximately smack dab in the middle of her back. Creepy.

I start getting set up for the race: Turn on my Garmin so it can connect to the satellites, then pull out my iPod. And… it’s dead. Completely dead. And it was plugged in for like 3 hours yesterday while I put together a playlist of the songs I run my tempos and intervals to, just in case I needed it. What, did aliens land in our living room last night and cause a power surge? Do I live in Eureka? Should I call The Doctor?

I roll up my iPod and stash it out of the way and my Garmin starts going apecrap. Low Battery hooting. Bah… I have no choice but to turn off the GPS and use it just as a watch. Trying to stay positive, I’ll just use the mile markers and manually hit my laps. Thankfully, the watch is already set up for this on the screen vs. my “usual race set-up.” I look up and, again, see the business end of that darned sex doll winging mockingly at me. I wonder if I should take this as an omen that I should just back it up and jog with my friends.

No sooner do I think this, than the countdown starts. Alrighty, well… let’s just do the best we can.

The start is a bit of a mosh pit mess, with people trying to sprint forward and then get thrown back when they hit a wall of people. I cross the mat in like :30 or so and make my way to the far left. I notice Green G-String Guy’s shoe is untied, and…. down he goes! Taking out like 3 people, but not hitting the ground. I feel sorry for whoever was behind him when he had to bend over to tie his shoes.

I’m feeling good and hit a zone. We get to the Bay Bridge and are headed on towards the Ferry Building. My watch reads like 7:11, so I start keeping an eye out for the first mile marker. And watch… and watch… and, we’re at the Ferry Building and turning around. My watch reads 11:00, are we at the true halfway mark? How fast have I been running? No clue. And pacing off those around me is pretty impossible, since there is a lot of “sprint, fade, sprint, fade” seems like I am always getting passed by maniacal sprinters on a regular basis. By the time we get back to the bridge, I can tell I am at the upper level of my endurance and need to get some recovery in, so I decide to focus on “active recovery” through till we get to the ballpark. I can tell I’ve probably gone too far past the threshold already, though. Without any tunes to keep my mind occupied, I start drafting my post-race Twitter update about how much this sucks and just try to focus on quick turnover.

I enter the ballpark at like 21:00 or something- no way I’ll get in and out of the ballpark and to the finish line in 4 minutes. I am peeved. And the second I hit the dirt, I get even peeved-er. My ankle does not like this soft surface AT ALL. Then, we have to run on some grass and my ankle seizes up a little. Ouch! I cross home plate with my first “Gun to the Head” pose for the cameras. Then, we exit the ballpark, shoes covered in that slick/sandy ballpark dirt and have to make a tight 90-degree turn on the concrete. I nearly bail. Then we get to hop down that 18″ curb that gets you the other way at the end of SF Marathon. Not awesome.

We’re probably about 300 feet from the finish, and i know my ankle is not doing well, but mentally it’s tough to not try to kick it up at the end. I look at my watch and see that 25:XX is probably at least in reach, so I pick a woman in front of me and reel her in (truth be told, it looks like she faded some, as well…) and cross the mat with the clock reading in the low 26′s, when I looked at my watch after crossing, it was 25:59, so I hope for a chiptime at or under 25:59.

POSTSCRIPTS:
- After crossing the finishline, I heard something that salvaged my ego at least a little. “Is that? Yes, it is… Our first stroller runner. Let’s cheer in our first stroller finisher!” At least I beat the stroller brigade.

- When I looped back to cheer on my friends, I saw Sex Doll Dude and G-String Guy. I totally smoked ‘em.

- The ankle is really pissed at me right now. I’m icing and trying to salvage it, but really upset at myself that I aggravated it and didn’t even come near any of my goals.

I should have listened to the Chocolate Starfish of Doom on the Sex Doll and jogged with my friends. I will never make THAT mistake again!