Beating the Heat | Mini Marathon Race Recap

At 5:15 AM Saturday, I slapped the alarm off and stumbled out of bed.  The house had really cooled off overnight, and I was hopeful that the forecast had changed.  I fed the dogs (who apparently are just as hungry at 5:15 as 6:45), and went about making my own breakfast.  Before every race, I eat two whole grain Eggo waffles with peanut butter and banana.  Shortly before my very first race, I found this recipe in an article about high-energy breakfast foods.  It works for me, so who am I to mess with it.  As I ate, I looked over the course map and made notes of when I would stop for water and Gatorade.  I decided I would use the pace band, if for no other reason than to keep from going too fast at the start.

I got dressed, remembering to put Body Glide on my toes.  I packed up everything I thought we would need for the morning (double-checking for the iPod and phone), and we were on our way downtown by 6:30.  As we walked to the garage, I felt a bit chilled, and let myself think for a brief second that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As we were driving, it seemed lighter out than in the past, and I began to worry that we had left later than usual.  About a mile from the house, I said, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”  My husband’s response, “Don’t you always feel that way?”  At least I’m consistent.

We got closer to downtown and the traffic started to pick up.  I began to see people with bibs on carrying Finish Line bags walking blocks from the start line, and the worry that we had left too late increased.  I was afraid my super secret parking spot was going to be taken.  On top of that, I already needed to pee again.

I turned onto the street where I wanted to park, and was immediately relieved.  The whole block was empty.  We took off towards Washington Street.  Again, I thought about how pleasant it felt, and was surprised that I wasn’t enveloped in a blanket of humidity.  We turned down the south spoke of the Circle, and essentially met a wall of people.  I know this was only my third time running the Mini, but I did not recall this many people meandering this far east on Washington.  We MUST have left later than usual.

Within a half a block, I was getting impatient.  We could barely move.  People were just standing around as if they had nowhere to be (and I could tell by their bibs that they certainly did have somewhere to be).  After much muttering and cursing under my breath, we ducked into the Westin to use the bathroom.  The line for the first floor restroom was, of course, insanely long.  Up we went and found one with no wait.  The timing was perfect, because the line had started for form when I came out.  We went out the south side of the Westin and avoided the throngs of people until we were close to my corral.

I gave everything, including my phone, to my husband, he took a quick picture (how do I always look hideous in my before-race pictures?), and I dashed into corral F thinking I only had about ten minutes or so to wait.  I pushed to the very front of the corral, and began to look around for my running buddy.  Despite the announcement that it was the “last call” for runners to get into the corrals, I had over 15 minutes to wait. Once again, the nerves got the best of me.  (Also, I’m now convinced that we left the same time we always do).

I tried to stay calm and focused, and ignore all of the chatter around me.  The sky was still overcast, but I was beginning to feel the humidity.  I kept checking my watch, and despite it ticking closer and closer to 7:30, I didn’t hear any announcements, music, or the national anthem.  Before I knew it, we were off.  I still have no idea what was going on.

As the crowd around me began to surge forward, I began walking towards the start line.  Everyone was running past me, sometimes running into me, but I refuse to run before the start line.  As my first coaches told me, you are about to run 13.1 miles.  Why do you want to add more to that?  So despite the jostling, I continued my walk, and fell in behind two guys that were walking.  I crossed the start, and concentrated on going slowly.  If I went out too fast like last year, I more than likely would not finish.

My first mile was at a 9:11 pace, and I decided I could pick it up.  Amazingly, my hamstring was not bothering me.  Miles two and three were decent, but I was already beginning to feel hot, and there was still cloud cover.  My 5K time was only slightly off of my ideal time of 1:47:00.  I picked it up a little more, stopped at a water stop, and hit mile four with a decent pace.  At mile four and a half, I knew I couldn’t keep it up.  It’s amazing how much can change in just a half mile.

I spent miles four and five trying to figure out what my strategy was going to be for the rest of the race.  I did not want to be miserable like last year, I wanted to finish strong, and I didn’t want to walk except through water stops.  I decided the best way to achieve this was to abandon pace and run solely on how I was feeling.  That decision saved the race for me.

I hit mile six as we were about to go into the track, and the sun was high in the sky to greet us.  Around this time I also decided I would take water any time I pleased, so I grabbed a cup at the last stop before entering the track.  I stuck with my plan to have some Gatorade right after entering the track (and making it up that steep hill), and that was a mistake.  Lemon-lime Gatorade is gross.  I took two sips, but then my mouth was thick with Gatorade.  All I could think about was getting to the next water stop so I could rinse my mouth out.

I ran through the spray station, got onto the actual track, and thought for the first time that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to finish.  I was getting so hot, and the spray stations weren’t enough to cool me down.  I wasn’t even halfway done yet.  I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other (it didn’t help that the winners were upon the big screen).

I came to the first water station inside the track and decided I was going to pour half the water over myself.  Wow, did that feel good.  As I was approaching the Yard of Bricks, I heard someone shout “You’re almost halfway there!”  I didn’t want to think about it, because a lot of times people cheering say “You’re almost done!”, and you’ve really got three more miles to go.  Then it registered that I WAS almost halfway done.

I hit the Yard of Bricks, tried to smile for the camera, and focused on my music.  As hoped, my playlist strategy did not fail me.  I hit another water stop, another douse of water over the head, and there was the mile eight marker.  Once I was past it, I let myself acknowledge that I had less than five miles to go.  That mean some distance with a four in front of it.  I could do that.

Around this time, the sun went behind the clouds, and I started to feel stronger.  I looked at my watch for the first time in about three miles and realized there was still a chance to break two hours.  It was also around this time that I began to see runners to the side of the course receiving medical attention.  I reminded myself to run based on how I felt.

I exited the track, and as I got back on the street I saw a Back on My Feet supporter cheering.  We saw each other at about the same time and both screamed out “Yeah!” or “Hey!” or something.  Regardless, it was the encouragement I needed, and a reminder that by fundracing, this was already my most successful race.  As I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, there was mile nine.

The next three miles were tough.  I knew I could finish, but I really wanted to stop and walk.  I compromised by taking some extra time at the water stops.  It was hard forcing myself to sip water, because by that time I just wanted to chug everything in sight.  However, in addition to not walking, I also try to make it a rule not to vomit.

I was almost to mile eleven, and I knew there would be a Gatorade stop, but no water.  I didn’t know if I could make it.  Then, unbelievable, right in front of me was a table with water that four or five girls had set up on their own outside their house.  I saw them pouring the water out of bottles, and I didn’t think twice about grabbing one.

By this time, I knew under two hours was out of the question, but I wouldn’t be far off.  I just hoped I had enough to give a little kick at the end.  My muscles were fatigued, and I could feel the blisters on my left foot (the same two places I always get them).  I knew that without the Body Glide, it would have been even more painful.

The last water stop appeared right at mile twelve, and I grabbed two cups of water.  I walked slowly, knowing I was not (hopefully) going to walk again.  I sipped on one cup, and poured the entire contents of the second over my head and down the front and back of my shirt.  There was so much water that my shorts ballooned out as if I’d just jumped in a swimming pool.  I may or may not have giggled at that.  I tossed the empty cups and took off.

Once I could see the finish line (or at least the structure), I let myself start to think about the race. As hot as it was, I still felt better than I had the year before, when I did spend most of the last three miles (including the last half mile) walking.  I decided I would give it all I had at the half mile mark, but it never came.  I thought I’d missed it, but then I saw the thirteen ahead of me.  (Just like the lack of sound at the start, I have no idea where the markers were this time.)  I picked it up, very conscious of the fact that most of the people around me were moving slowly and looked miserable.  I felt for the people receiving medical care so close to the finish line.

I gave it everything I had as I crossed the finish line, proud that I had conquered the race in that weather.  Unofficially – 2:02:11 (officially 2:02:09 – that never happens!). I grabbed on of the bottles of water being handed out, took a few big gulps, and went to get my medal.  As I was walking down the finishers’ lane, I realized that my husband and I had not discussed where we were going to meet.  I took my time getting all of my post-race goodies, and even got my picture taken (I never do that, and can only imagine how terrible it will be, but I wanted a memoir).  I was hoping he would be able to find me right after I entered Military Park like he had last year.

After about thirty minutes of wandering and eyeing people who I thought might let me borrow their phones, we finally found each other.  Turns out we had gone to all of the obvious places (results tent, Blue Mile tent, family reunion area) but at different times.  Yeah, yeah, had one of us just stayed put…

We walked back to the car and shared our experiences as participant and spectator.  I checked Facebook and Twitter to see how all of my friends fared, enjoyed a long, hot shower, and capped off the morning with Pancakes and More and a mimosa from Good Morning Mama’s.

While I didn’t reach the goal I’d set at the outset of this training, this Mini is the one I’m most proud of.  I ran a smart race, I had a good time considering the heat and humidity, and I raised over $1,800.00 for Back on My Feet Indianapolis.  I’d call that a win.

What’s next, you might be wondering.  I might be crazy, but I think it’s time to register for my first marathon (not Chicago – if Saturday taught me anything, it’s that I will never run Chicago).  That still scares me a lot, but I think I’m ready.  Follow along with me for that adventure, too, won’t you?

Here We Go

I can’t believe in less than twelve hours this will all be over.  All the training, the hard work, the preparation has led to right here.  And I have to say, I’m not where I thought I would be mentally, physically or emotionally.  Aside from the issues leading up to today, our A/C is broken at home.  It’s been hovering around 80 inside the house for the last two days, making sleep miserable.  This makes me worry about getting a good night’s sleep, which then becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  A storm came through a bit ago and cooled things off a couple of degrees (actually three degrees – woohoo!).  Let’s hope Pete doesn’t decide to sleep ON me again tonight.

I don’t feel nervous, which I suppose is normal. The nerves usually start in the morning while eating breakfast, and then on the drive downtown.  I have all of my clothes set out for tomorrow.  It’s weird to not have an outer layer that I shed right before the race and then put on immediately after.  It’s also weird to set out sunscreen (don’t worry – I’m not using the 15 SPF.  The 50 is in the car.  This is just a reminder).  I’m proud to be running in a Back on My Feet shirt (and possibly hat if the thunderstorm forecast holds true).  I’m proud to be running with the names of everyone who donated on the back of my shirt.  I’m proud to have such awesome friends and family who helped me raise over $1,800.00 for BoMF.  (By the way, it’s not too late to donate – I’ll add you name in the morning!)  In that regard, this is already a PR.

I’m still worried about the heat and humidity.  Right now the forecast calls for temps of about 66 at the start and 76 by 10 am.  I ran at 5:45 this morning, and the humidity had already set in.  I’m also concerned about thunderstorms, not because I don’t want to run in the rain.  Well, I don’t REALLY want to run in the rain, but I don’t mind it.  In fact, I think it would be welcome tomorrow.  What I am concerned about is lightning.  I don’t want the race to be called!   I want to cross the finish and get my medal.

My pace is going to be dictated by the weather.  My hamstring is much improved, although not 100% yet.  During this morning’s (very) easy run, it hardly bothered me at all.  I hope that the same is true tomorrow.  I’ve got a pace band sitting in front of me, but I’m still not sure whether I’m going to use it.  I’m afraid if I put it on, I will push myself to try for that time – against better judgment.  I think it will be race-time decision.

I spent the evening working up my new playlist.  I’m pretty excited about it.  It’s taken me a few races to get the hang of proper music selection, and more importantly, proper music placement.  My first race, I loaded so many songs that I had four hours’ worth of music!  I know it was my first, but it did not take me that long.  By the time I finished loading the music, I was too tired to organize the songs.  The next race I was more careful.   I put the songs that help me kick it into gear at 15-20 minutes before I expected to finish.  It worked out beautifully.  Last year I ran without music.  That was a huge mistake, mainly because I learned that the music helps to pace me.  I can’t wait to put the headphones in and just run tomorrow.

Believe it or not, I’m glad that I got up at 5 this morning, because I’m starting to feel pretty tired.  I hope to sleep like Pete and Maggie tonight (ie, nuclear war may or may not wake them up).  Usually I toss and turn the night before, afraid that I will sleep through my alarm.

Good luck to everyone else running tomorrow.  Look for the race recap before the end of the weekend.  I’m off to dream of overcast skies and swift feet.

One Week

It’s hard to believe that fifteen weeks of a sixteen week training program are gone.  In just a week the race will be here.  I can envision the start line, the tens of thousands of people converging on downtown, the buzz in the air.  But, I’m having trouble pinpointing my feelings this time around.  I’m not nervous, but I’m not excited, either.  I know it’s because I’m not quite where I expected to be.

I ran yesterday and today, and while my hamstring definitely feels better, it’s not 100%.  It’s more of an ache than a pain, but a hindrance nonetheless.  Unlike prior pains, such as the shin splint, ibuprofen does not really help.  However, I’m not discouraged either.  I know I can finish the race, and a lot can happen before Saturday.

By this point, the nerves are usually manifesting themselves as weird dreams.  So far, I’ve only had one, and it was before all of the setbacks.  It was the typical scenario.  I was still at my house when I should have been getting ready to get into the corral, and despite getting up on time, I had not eaten breakfast.  Other typical dream scenarios include getting stuck in the bathroom and missing the start of the race, or getting to the start line and realizing I didn’t actually train.  I suppose I’ll take dreamless sleep over that.

In an attempt to get my head where it needs to be, I bought some new shorts.  New things always make me feel better.  Traditionally, I buy a new outfit for each race.  Weather always dictates what I actually wear the day of, but knowing I have new clothes to run in makes it easier to get out of bed at 5 am.  This time, I’m breaking my cardinal rule.  I always wear the new outfit one time – on a ten-mile run – to see what potential issues there may be.  I’ve had my Back on My Feet shirt for a month, so no concerns there.  For a while I wasn’t sure whether I really needed new shorts, hence the delay in shopping.

On top of that, I was being a little particular this time around.  I’m tired of running in shorts with no pockets (sorry, the little spot for a house key or a gel does not constitute a pocket).  I wanted a zippered pocket along the back of the waistband.  I also do not like running in short shorts.  Let’s be honest – no one wants to see that.

After doing a bit of research and asking my running buddy what she liked, I decided to check out lululemon.  Slightly more expensive than say, Nike or Saucony, but covering all requirements.  I tried on a couple of different styles and sizes, and was surprised by how comfortable they were.  With a four-inch inseam, two gel pockets and a zippered pocket, I was sold.  I’m hoping four miles will be a long enough distance to allow any potential problems to manifest themselves.

I hope that the taper also helps to put me where I need to be mentally.  Knowing that I get to start carbo-loading in a couple of days is helping as well.  There’s no sense in denying it – part of why I run long distance is to eat tons of pasta, pizza and potatoes.  Who am I to argue with science?  Up next on the task list is to put together a new playlist for the race.  Just like a new outfit, a new playlist does wonders for upping my excitement. (Any must-have song recommendations?  Leave them in the comments!)

Over the next few days, I need to focus on getting decent sleep and hydrating.  Even if things don’t go as originally hoped on Saturday, it will be OK.  I know I will run the best race that I can, and I know that there will always be another chance, another race, another opportunity for a PR.  After all, the next goal is to tackle 26.2.

Hurts So Good

I finally called about getting a massage for my hamstring.  I got up from my desk at work, and the shooting pain up my back convinced me to call.  I had done a little research, and decided that I would try Heal Thyself in Broad Ripple.  I knew that I wanted a place that focused more on the medical aspects of massage rather than just relaxation.  Heal Thyself offers such services.

I wasn’t sure what the proper timing would be.  Should I get in ASAP?  Should I wait until closer to the race?  The woman I spoke to recommended ASAP, and much to my delight, there was an appointment available this afternoon at 4:00.  She had one question though – would I be comfortable with a male therapist?  I said yes without hesitation, thinking a male might be stronger than a female and able to really work the muscles.  Be careful what you wish for.

After I hung up the phone, I panicked.  I hadn’t shaved my legs since the weekend! (Yeah, I’m gross.  So what?)  I seriously thought about calling to reschedule, but decided I shouldn’t let a little stubble come between me and potential freedom from pain.

Heal Thyself is located in a renovated house on Broadway off of Westfield.  I could smell the lavender as I walked onto the porch.  The whole vibe of the place was soothing.  As I sat in the waiting area, I really felt like I was hanging out in someone’s living room.  I met my therapist, Helger, and he spent some time asking about the issues I was experiencing.  I specifically said that I was not having any pain in my quads.

As he got started, I was surprised that my hamstring didn’t hurt like I thought it would when he was working on it.  My hip hurt, but I kind of expected that.  What I did not expect was the pain in my quads.  It felt like he was barely working the muscles, but they were so tender.  I wasn’t sure I would be able to get through it, but you guessed it – it hurt oh so good.  I didn’t want it to stop because I knew it was helping.  Even as I was laying there I could tell that I was going to feel fantastic when I got up.

Oddly enough, my abdominal muscle was the likely source of my hamstring pain.  Apparently it was pulling up my hip, which was then impacting my hamstring.  I’ve had a decent number of massages in my time.  This was my first experience with having my stomach massaged.  It involved a bit of pinching my fat (at least that’s what it felt like to me).  But not in a mocking way.  In an incredibly helpful, pain releasing kind of way.

Going into this, I had expected to feel a little better after it was over.  My expectations were not so high as to think that I would walk out feeling normal.  I figured I would need some more stretching and foam rolling at home.  But when I got up from that table, my hamstring did not hurt.  Not one little bit.  Now my quads, they were another story.  It still kind of feels like I did a monster speed workout this afternoon.  I can only imagine what I will feel like tomorrow.

I did not run tonight, and I will likely take tomorrow off as well, as Helger’s suggestion.  I certainly don’t want to undo today’s hour’s worth of magic.  Since it’s taper time, I’m not worried about missing one run.  However, I am anxious to see how everything feels.  It would be encouraging to get through the next few days without my muscle tensing up again. At least I know where I can turn in case it does.  For now, I leave you with this:

Dealing with Setbacks

At four weeks out from the race, I felt great.  I had one ten-miler done; I was incorporating speed work; things were looking good.  Then, I woke up the Friday three weeks before the race (Friday the Thirteenth, no less), and my throat felt a bit scratchy.  Refusing to face reality, I told myself I must have just slept with my mouth open.

By the end of the day, I had to face reality.  I felt miserable by the time we got home from dinner, and didn’t understand why my husband looked at me strangely when I said I wanted to go to bed at 11:20.  I know that’s kind of early for a Friday, but I didn’t think it was deserving of a strange look.  Then I got into bed, reached over to set the alarm, and realized it was only 10:20.  No wonder.  Clearly, I was sick.

Luckily, I got over the worst part of the cold in just a few days – you know, the time period where you just feel like crap, everything aches, and you are exhausted.  By Tuesday, I felt like I was on the mend.  I went out for a short run.  It was hard to breath and I still had runny nose, but otherwise I felt OK.  Until the next morning.

I woke up and my hamstring was so sore.  What had I done?  Actually, the question was what hadn’t I done.  You see, when we got back from the 4 mile run, we had to go to the store.  In my haste to get food to put in my belly, I did not stretch afterwards.  Oh, it was only four miles, I’ll be fine.  I know better than this.

I’m not sure that my lack of stretching is the entire issue, because it is more painful than ever before.  In addition, I can’t quite completely kick this cold.  I’m still coughing and it’s still hard to breath on runs.  Needless to say, I began to feel frustrated, and even worse, afraid.  Afraid of the distance.  Afraid of the pain.  Afraid of not running to my potential.  Afraid of having wasted the last sixteen weeks.  It’s the ten-day taper.  I should be feeling fantastic.

Then I started thinking about all of my half marathons.  My first race, I had all kinds of issues.  Knee pain.  Foot pain.  Hip pain.  I remember thinking the few days before that race, “Please just let me wake up with no pain race day.”  And I had no pain that day.  Adrenaline is a wonderful thing.

Six months later I was getting ready for my second half, and about three weeks before the race I developed a shin splint.  Wow, was that painful.  Much more painful than what I’m feeling now.  Race day I popped some ibuprofen and ran my best race to date.  (I did take a break and let it heal afterwards.)

While I was moping around the last two weeks, I forgot that this is not the first time (and I’m sure will not be that last) that I’ve faced setbacks shortly before races.  Each time, I dealt with them and refused to let them get the best of me.  I’m certainly not about to do that this time.

My hamstring is still sore, but I had a really good run tonight.  I’ve been using a foam roller (seriously, how have I gotten by this long without one), and focusing on stretching.  It’s still ten days until the race.  Not just ten days, but ten days of tapering.  That’s exactly what this body needs.

I know that I’m not going to reach the starting line next Saturday morning in the condition that I had been hoping for.  But that doesn’t mean I have to give up completely.  I’m working on my race strategy, and after running the course two other times I can now visualize it.  I can realistically plan what my time should be at certain milestones along the course.  It’s unbelievable how much comfort that provides.

Right now, it’s time to focus on mental preparations.  Physically, I’ve done all that I can.  All of the hard work and long runs are already complete.  It’s time to make sure I stay out of my own head.  It’s time to remind myself that this time, I’m not just running this race for me.  It’s time to focus on bringing my A game.

Getting the Lead Out | 7 Weeks to the Mini

I can’t believe it’s only seven weeks until the Mini (that’s me in the pink crossing the finish line last year).  Where has the time gone?  I have been a little concerned about my training this time around.  I’ve had very few good runs.  You know, those runs where everything just feels right? Your pace is good, your form is good, you just feel good. Those have been few and far between.

This past week I was just thinking about how my legs have been feeling like lead for a long time.  My pace has been so-so, but the runs are hard. I can barely lift my legs up, and I’m tired two miles in.  This is only my fourth half marathon, and I haven’t run a race in a year.  I thought maybe this is just how I’m supposed to feel a little over halfway through the training.  Maybe I just forgot how I usually feel as this point.

But today – today was different.  I woke up looking forward to the run.  (It still kind of amazes me how much of an impact a positive attitude has on a run.) The weather was beautiful.  Even though I already had 17 miles in for the week, I felt good.  My Saturday morning running buddy is nursing a sore Achilles right now, but my husband agreed to run the eight miles with me.  We took off and a couple of miles in I realized this could be a decent run.

It was a bit chilly in the breeze, but the sun was warm.  I mentally kicked myself for not putting on sun screen before we left.  We passed the same goose on the tow path that always hisses at us.  We made it into Broad Ripple and turned onto the Monon heading north.  There were tons of people out.  It was great.  We even passed a couple of Back on My Feet runners out training for the Carmel Marathon.  We got to our turn around point and I looked at my watch for the first time.  I was shocked.  It didn’t really feel like we were going that fast.  I thought perhaps I’d messed up starting/stopping my watch at one of the intersections.

Whether it was accurate or not, I was motivated to pick it up the rest of the way home.  We took a quick break then started off.  And something amazing happened.  My legs felt light, quick, like they wanted to run.  Finally!  I picked up the pace, feeling a little guilty about it since this was the first time my husband had run 8 miles (not to mention he’s run with me every day this week, so he’s probably at his highest mileage for a week).

We passed a man who waved at us and told us to have a safe jog.  We passed another man who waved and shouted “Hello!”.  After we passed him, I could hear him doing the same to all the other runners and walkers.  At around 2 miles left, I wasn’t sure I could keep the pace up.  There was no longer a chill in the breeze, and the sun was warming up.  I checked my watch again.  If we made it 52nd Street in another ten minutes, we might be able to make the eight miles in under 1:10:00.  We passed a man wearing a shirt that said “Running Sucks.”  I wished I was wearing my “My Sport is Your Sport’s Punishment” shirt.  And then we hit 52nd Street in under 9 minutes.

Even thought I already felt a bit like vomiting, I knew if I just pushed myself a little harder, I would have an awesome time to pair with the awesome feeling.  I looked over my shoulder and told my husband I was going to pick it up for the last mile, and I took off.  I pulled my headphones out of my ears.  It was just me, the sound of my shoes on the pavement, my breathing, and the chirping birds.

I wasn’t going to look at my watch again until I was done.  I was just going to focus on how I felt.  We came up to 49th and College and something I wasn’t expecting happened.  My husband passed me.  And I don’t mean by a little.  He blew by me!  He is faster than me, but I knew he hadn’t been feeling as good as me that morning – some aches and pains, not enough water yesterday.  I tried to keep up with him, or at least close the gap, but he finished more than half a block ahead of me.

I used that as motivation to go as fast as I possibly could.  I rounded the corner towards home, and pretended I was approaching the Mini finish line.  I stopped my watch – 1:08:24.  Success!  The need to vomit immediately went away.  I congratulated my husband and we finished the cool down together.

I really needed that run today.  I needed a mental adjustment.  Sometimes your legs feel like lead.  Sometimes you’re tired.  But you just have to keep putting in the miles.  It will pay off.  What this means is that now I need to focus on speed work.  I hate speed work.  But it too will pay off.  I really want that 1:45:00 finish.

Crossing the Finish Line

Another 16 weeks of training, and another half marathon under my belt.  I was hoping the third time would be the charm, but I really struggled this race.  I blame adrenaline.  I felt great the week going into the race, and I got up Saturday morning feeling ready – tired, but ready.  I got out of bed around 5:10 am, made my breakfast, and got ready.  We left the house before the sun was up.  It was a little chilly and sort of windy, but it would be about 55 degrees by the time the race started.  Nearly perfect weather.

We parked at the garage I park in for work, and went into my building to take advantage of a no-line bathroom, but of course I had to go again before the race started.  We took our time walking over to the corrals, and then went into one of the hotels lining the street.  No sense in standing outside for 45 minutes.  About 7:10 I decided it was time to get in the corral.  I was feeling pretty nervous, although I don’t know why.  It’s just running.  It’s not like I’m going to win or anything.

 After standing in the corral for about 15 minutes, the beach balls came out.  I don’t understand this phenomenon.  First, I am getting ready to run 13.1 miles.  Why do I want to spend precious energy batting around beach balls?  Second, are all of those balls really going to make it off the course path before the race starts?  Third, who brings things beach balls?  Organizers of the event?  Other participants?  Why do people think this is a good idea?!

It was finally time to go.  I was in corral F, so I had a bit to walk before actually crossing the start line.  Everyone around me began running, but again, why run any more than 13.1 than necessary.  I did not run until I got to the start line.  Despite having been seeded, there were what seemed like thousands of slower runners ahead of me.  My first mile was 9:11, more than a minute slower than the pace I was aiming for.

I tried to pick up the pace, but not too much.  I still only passed people when I could do so without dodging or weaving.  By mile 2, I seemed to be back on pace (or so I thought).  Around mile 5 I finally felt like I was getting my stride.  I’d made a couple of water stops, and on the advice of my new friend/running buddy/nutritionist, I decided I would stop for a few sips of Gatorade at the next stop.  Despite feeling like I had hit my stride, I was also feeling a bit tired.  I was a little concerned because I wasn’t halfway through yet, and was feeling much worse than I ever had during the previous two races.

Around mile 8, I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to make the time I wanted.  If I kept up my pace, I would, but I was certain at that point that I wasn’t going to be able to keep it up for another five miles.  At mile 10, I decided I was NEVER going to run a half marathon again, a marathon was completely out of the question, who cares about running the Boston Marathon, and I might never ever run again.  I felt like I had no energy.  What was going on?  I had eaten what I was supposed to eat.  I had loaded up on good carbs the last three days and ate the same breakfast I always do.  What happened?  Was I even going to be able to finish?

I stopped at the next to water stops and walked a little bit farther than I normally would, just to try to get a little rest and be able to make it to the end.  I stopped for some more Gatorade.  That helped for like a half mile.  Finally, I got to the point where I had to walk a bit, even though there was no water stop.  I hate to admit that, but it’s what I had to do in order to finish.  At mile 11, I was really struggling, but thinking “Only 2.1 more miles…you’ve made it this far…only 2.1 more.”  At about a mile and a half left, I saw one of my coaches, who cheered me on and encouraged me to finish strong.  That was what I needed.

I made it to 12, and knew I could make it to the end even if it was slowly.  I turned a corner and could see the finish line in the distance.  I got closer.  Three quarters of a mile.  I could do it.  Half a mile.  Almost there.  I wasn’t moving very quickly.  A quarter mile.  Still so far to go.  I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and decided to give it one last push as I crossed the finish line.

 At first I was pretty disappointed in my time.  I still couldn’t understand what had happened.  Then I met up with my husband, and he told me my split for the first 7 miles or slow.  I was running at a 7:36 pace.  Guess what?  I don’t run that fast.  I’ve never run that fast.  I was going for an 8:05-8:10 pace.  Whoops.  So that explained what happened.  I still ran a faster time than when I ran the race a year before, so I decided to focus on that.  I’m also using the fact that I can’t pace myself as an excuse to get a Garmin to track my distance and pace.

 And, after it was all said and done, I still got my medal.  Oh, and after a few hours at home, I decided swearing off running was a bit premature.  I’m not certain that I’m ready to attempt a marathon in the fall, but I’ll do another half (at least one more…).

Starting the Ten-Day Taper

The half-marathon is a week from Saturday, and I am ready for it to get here – both in the sense that I am mentally and physically ready and that I am ready for it to be here and over with.  I am a bit worn out on training.  I am also feeling slow and sluggish, as I my entire lower body were comprised of lead.  I know this is how I am supposed to feel at this point, but it is frustrating.  It makes me a little nervous for the race, but I know with the taper starting and carbo load next week I will feel great Saturday morning.

The 16-week training session seemed to pass more slowly this year as compared to last year.  I think it is because I had no idea what I was getting into last time, and I was so concerned about being able to run 13.1 miles without vomiting.  This time the mileage doesn’t scare me.  I know I can finish.  The issue is my time.  I certainly don’t want to run slower than I did during the last race in November.

Even though there are shorter runs next week, I still have to run six of the next seven days, with an eight mile run.  I’m ready for that to be over.  However, I am really looking forward to the carbo load that starts next Wednesday.  I love pasta, grains, potatoes, and I look forward to this part of every race training.  In fact, this is one of the things that keeps me motivated to sign up for races!  I can’t justify eating that many carbs otherwise.  I don’t enjoy the four days of low carb, high protein before that, but the pasta makes up for it.

It has been raining for the past six days, and it looks like it could still be around next Saturday.  That would be miserable.  I’ve done strong winds and below freezing temperatures, but I’m not sure how I would handle rain the entire race.  I had good practice this evening, though, with rain coming down hard enough that you couldn’t see very far in front of you and soaking all of my layers of clothes to my skin.

I am happy to say that this time around I have no aches or pains.  If I remain injury free for the next ten days (and hopefully I will), this will be the first time I have raced without pain.  I wonder what that will be like!  I need to remember to keep drinking lots of water.  Only ten more days…