A few days ago (March 14^th), I raced in my first track event in quite a while: The Melbourne University Athletics Club 5k. I think the last time I raced on a track was in Year 10 for my high school where I ran in the 800m. I wasn’t even meant to run then – I was the reserve, and our fastest runner decided to get injured just before the race so I had to step in. I came either second last or third last. But anyway, that was a while ago and a lot has changed since then.

Over the last few months, I’ve been building up my running fairly consistently. Last year in 2018, I was averaging about 20k a week (~3 runs per week) but during January and February this year I was running about 30k a week (~5 runs per week) and now in March I’m running around 40k a week (~6 runs per week). It’s slowly becoming a part of my lifestyle. Just as I would eat, sleep or work, I run. But it’d been a while since I tested my fitness in an official race so when my coach brought up the MUAC 5k, which involves 12 and a half laps of UniMelb’s 400m track, I decided to go for it. The rest of this post details the night of the race and what went through my mind on this special night. The Strava details of my run can be found here.

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I’m on my kitchen floor with the foam roller under me. It’s about an hour before the MUAC 5k race starts and I’ve got the jitters. As I loosen up the fascia surrounding my calves, I tell myself to calm down and mentally run through my plan for the race. “Your goal is to break 19:30 – that’s a pace of 3:54 per kilometre. Don’t be a fool and get too excited at the start, you will burn out. If you do a kilometre split in under 3:50 you’re going too fast. But most importantly, enjoy yourself.”

I run this plan over in my head a few more times before looking down at my watch: 6:20pm. My heat is scheduled to start at 7:10pm and check-in closes 30 minutes before the race so I decide to head off. I’ve been blessed to live fairly close to the MUAC track – only a 5 minute jog – so I’m not too worried about missing check-in.

As expected, check-in goes smoothly. I meet a guy from my heat who I followed on Strava a while ago (he out-sprinted me in a Parkrun) and have a chat with him about the race. We’ve been mutually encouraging each other on Strava for a few months now by liking each others’ runs and though it’s my first time talking to him in person, I feel like we get on quite well. I later find my training partner who’s also competing in the same heat and warm-up with him. I have no chance of beating either of these two tonight but it’s nice having friends in the competition.

When the time to line up finally comes, I realise I haven’t put my bib number on my shirt as the club ran out of pins and I completely forgot to get some from the competitors in the previous heat. I begin to worry a bit since everyone else but me and my training partner have their numbers on but am relieved as the race coordinator decides to name us by blue and black – the colour of our shirts. Before long, all the competitors in my heat are ready to go. As I wait for the gun to go off, I smile and mentally prepare myself for 12 and a half laps of pain.

The firing of the gun is accompanied by 30 beeps of Garmin watches starting simultaneously. The first two laps go fairly smoothly. I feel comfortable and found myself in a pack of two other runners who I don’t recognise. During these first two laps, I hear familiar voices shouting voices of encouragement from my training partners and coach.  

As I approach 2 and a half laps, or 1km, I hear the coordinator at the line reading out the time: “3:48, 3:49.. 3:50.” I look down at the watch to confirm it and sure enough, my 1km split reads 3:50. I think back to the plan I had before the race and ponder whether to take the next two laps easy or just to go with the pace. For fear of burning out, I decide to slow it down a little and let my little group go ahead.

I wish I could give a more detailed recount for the rest of the race, but it all seems like a blur now. Over the last 2k or so, I get lapped by the fastest runners in my heat and lap a few runners myself. In the last two laps, I catch 4 runners ahead of me – including the two I was with at the start – and end up with an official time of 19:26. The ‘Runner’s Euphoria’ hits soon after and masks the pain of lactic acid build-up, replacing it with pure ecstasy.

I walk off the track and notice my surroundings. It’s a beautiful night with rosy-pink skies with small patches of white clouds. A cool breeze brushes against my face as I go and take a drink from a nearby water fountain. Talking with some of my teammates later reveal that one of them won the heat in an astonishing 17:17. As I clap him on the back and look around, I see runners from all walks of life around me. Running has this spectacular way of bringing people of all backgrounds together in this vibrant community. I wonder how long these people been training in preparation for this race and if they were as excited as I was a few hours ago. But I push these thoughts aside – no use wondering. All I can do now is enjoy the moment.