A Holiday Perfect for Pancakes - Sapporo Meet Round 1

As I was lacing up my spikes at the assembly area,
I heard a voice from somewhere, sounding like someone who would rather be eating pancakes,
saying, "A 9 AM start is a bit too early, isn't it?"
I've been up since 3:30 this morning, so

I couldn't relate to that sentiment at all,
but I suppose that's how the young ones feel.

I'm often asked by students,
"What time do you wake up?"
When I answer, "When it gets light out,"
most of the students look blank.
At this time of year, the students
don't know what time it gets light.

Children today
have no interest in things they don't know about.
They lose interest in the conversation immediately,
give the standard closing remark,
"Wow, you're like an old man," and
the conversation ends.

A week after the Date 10k,
I entered the 5000m at the first Sapporo Meet.

Based on my practice and the feel of the Date race,
I feel like I could run in the 15-minute range.
But 15:30 is a bit tough.
That's because I haven't done the kind of training
where I run 1000m in 3 minutes and 5 seconds.
My goal is 15 minutes and 40 seconds.

This is my first 5000m race
since the second DTT meet last year,
where I ran in the 17-minute range
without much practice.

The weather is clear. There's not much wind.
Perfect 5000m weather.
It's certainly pancake weather, too.

When the race started,
two high school students bolted out.
Looking at the qualifying times,
there were about two runners with times around 15:30,
so it must be them.

If you want to run an aggressive race,
it's better not to have such preconceptions.
But to these runners, a 53-year-old man
is just "Wow, an old man."
I'm being told by their backs to 'play it safe.'

Today, I'm sticking to a defensive race.
I'll leave the two leaders alone and
tuck in right behind the leader of the second pack.
They are running at a pace of about 76 seconds per lap (15:50).

The 1000m mark was 3 minutes and 9 seconds.
I have plenty of room at this pace.
But I won't get greedy. I won't add any butter.

When I passed the 2000m mark in 6 minutes and 20 seconds,
the lap time of the leader of the pack
started to drop a little.

"There are six people in the second pack," the
announcer said.
Since I was in second place right behind the leader,
that means there are four people behind me.

Should I move to the front?
In the theory of track meets,
if you're in a pack, everyone wants to set a record,
so you take turns leading.

But I was like someone holding syrup
hesitating to pour it on.

Then, losing patience,
the runner behind me moved to the front of the pack.
I'm grateful.

He's a runner wearing a purple tank top,
also affiliated with the Sapporo Athletics Association like me.
Even though we're in the same association, we don't know each other.
We're just affiliated with the Sapporo Athletics Association to participate in races individually.
In other words, we're like solo comedians
belonging to the same talent agency.

The pace recovered, and we hit 3000m in 9 minutes and 31 seconds.
The race shifts at 3000m.
With 5 laps to go, this time
a Hokkaido University student moved to the front.
As expected of a Hokkaido University student, he knows
where you shouldn't let the pace drop.
I'll take advantage of that.

Still, the 3000m to 4000m stretch is the most painful.
This 1000m took 3 minutes and 15 seconds (12:45).
I'm saving my energy behind the leader of the pack,
like a boss who only says high-handed things
without doing anything, saying, 'You've done well enough.'

A strictly defensive race.
My race progression has no color at all.
A plain pancake.

With 1000m to go, another Hokkaido University student moves to the front.
I don't go yet.

With 600m to go, this time,
a high school student in a blue uniform makes a long spurt.
I respond to that too, but
I don't move to the front.

At this point, in the second pack of six,
I am the only one not contributing anything.
Everyone is in too much pain to speak, but
their heavy breathing sounds like it's saying,
'Give me a break.'

The bell rings for the final lap.
As I shift to the far outside,
my field of vision suddenly opens up.
A voice from deep within my body shouts, 'Go!'
It's the strawberry whipped spurt
I had saved for the very last moment.

15 minutes and 49 seconds.
It was a defensive race, but
as the first track meet of the season,
it's a job well done.

However, if I stay like this,
I'll just be a stingy, early-rising middle-aged man, so
next time I want to participate
in the race a bit more aggressively.