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Carlos Sanchez Race Report

Woodinville  Washington
Columbia Winery 10-K to benefit Seattle Childrens Hospital
August 20, 2016

RACE report:

Greetings folks, this is my race report from this past week-end.  As a person who doesn’t really race much I could not pass this one up, as I love kids, and anything to benefit them is always high on my list.  I have three crusades: child education, child hunger, and child poverty.   With me being in this area for business and a 10-K whispering in my ear, well I am the rat following a pied piper to a good cause.  Plus to race at sea level—I’m in!!

Now most of you who know me (and few of you do, but I plan to change all of that), know I bring up the back of the pack.   I’m more of a mule these days, dragging my butt to the ground and my belly in a wheel barrow.  I have re-invented myself as a runner many times, from the age of 13-28, a long vacation from running between the ages of 28-42 (ate much, drank more, lounged often) then hit a resurgence at age 42.  By then my fast years were a memory, gravity was pulling me into the abyss, and old running buddies were patting me on the head as they passed by.  At 5”7, 205 pounds I had to learn to run all over again.  Painstaking at best, I learned the hard way what years of abuse on a body can do.   Garbage in, garbage out is the old saying, and I had cornered the refuse market.   I was so heavy I was banned in Connecticut from ever wearing Spandex during daylight hours.  But slowly, albeit through some bad decisions the weight dropped, I moved back to New Mexico and suddenly I wasn’t gasping for breath after putting on socks.  I wanted it more, eating, breathing and…well you get the picture.  By 2009, I was under 3:00 for the marathon, 36:30 for the 10k and 1:21 for the half, all in New Mexico and beyond.  Not bad considering I was gaining in years, and hadn’t run like that in quite some time.   Everything was great, until….

Boston 2013:   A day that was marred by tragic events.  No need to rehash, everyone knows how bad it was.  For me, it was the day my watch stopped and nearly stopped for good.  Although I was not injured I was no longer motivated to run, and although I will never know if I am just burying mental anguish, I hung up the running shoes again.  Gained weight, lost focus, buried my head in the sand and found comfort in Hostess pies and loud colored spandex once again.   Egads.

So here we are in 2016.  Carlos 4.0, where was I?  Ah yes, Woodinville Washington.

Lining up at the start I felt the nervousness only a freshman in high school can feel at his first race.  I so badly wanted a p.r., nothing fancy, just a few seconds.  I looked at all the muscles and tight bellies of the ones crowding the start line and started to think I should head to the back, but no, sometimes a mule has his day, I’m staying.  

Now mind you my times are not fast, I might even rustle up a chuckle from you running monsters, but humor an old man.  

BAM!  The start of the race.   I moved comfortably and for the first time I was moving fluidly, not straining to adjust, nothing dragging, no grunts, no illegible cursing.  My first mile was in 6:15, and almost all up a gradual hill.  Crap I thought, I hope oxygen debt doesn’t take me, and for the first three miles it didn’t.  I maintained as best I could, attacking in the heat of the morning (and it was hot, 78 degrees at race time) Miles 4 and 5 were my downfall, big rolling hills again but still no oxygen debt in my lungs just my muscles and legs reminding me that even though your lungs feel super human, we down here in Paducah are functioning at human levels and we are not happy.  You suck Carlos!   I forget what it was like to hit the wall after such euphoria, but up against it I went.  At Mile 5 (6:28) I cursed the running gods from atop this gargantuan hill, flopped around like a flounder on a hot skillet, and found the defiance to pick it up.  All of the faster guys were ahead and nobody else was near me but you could sense that a coup was in order.  The vultures had seen me foaming at the mouth and they were circling. Running on sheer panic I picked up the pace, bloodied up my nipples a bit and tried to run like my hair was on fire.  At 6 miles I could see the clock and it had just punched in 39:00.  Crap!  In times like this you do not know where it comes from, or if you ever had it, but I felt like an Elephant running in the 100 meters.  With eyes bulging, teeth grinding, hernias herniating, I crossed the line in 39:59.  A pr for the year of a minute and a half and back under 40:00, even if barely.   Happy to say the least, but certainly could not fathom living in the moment without thanking the Dukes.  Your togetherness is what drives me, your commitment is what keeps me in awe.  Thanks for accepting a mule into a run of thoroughbreds and mustangs.
Carlos cracking a NEW PR! Nice work! 


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