So the last half marathon that I really raced was the GTIS half in 2010. Which was, incidentally, a PR for me. Of the four half marathons I've run since then (not counting the 2011 Disneyland Half, which was a DNF), three of them I ran as a pacer, and one I ran more for fun than time. That, coupled with the fact that the only PR I've set so far in 2012 was in a new event (my first triathlon), meant that I was really hungry for a PR in this event. I felt my chances were pretty good: my training had been solid, this would be at a lower elevation, and I'd have lots of support in the form of teammates who were also racing.
That's how I felt right up until I rolled my ankle on an easy Monday run about 3 weeks out from the race. That was pretty demoralizing; but I tried to keep it in perspective, gave myself a week off, and thought I'd be okay. I had a couple of decent runs after my recovery period that got me back to thinking positive PR thoughts.
Then I rolled it again! Eight days before the race, no less! I was furious and crushed, even in spite of my coach and my teammates assuring and reminding me that I was in taper anyway, that I really had nothing to lose or gain by a few more days of running before the race, and that I wasn't limping too badly. I gave myself a couple of days off, then went for an easy run on Wednesday that felt so fantastic I followed it up Thursday with a pretty quick (sub-8-minute pace) 5k run. That was enough to convince me that I could still have a really strong race.
Excitement grew when I arrived in Tucson. I wound up on the same Saturday morning flight with Lynn, Mary, and Ann from Runner's Edge, and spent a fantastic morning with them going to the expo and then to lunch. For dinner that night, the 16 of us from Runner's Edge met up at Michelangelo's Ristorante. I can't say enough how much I enjoy doing races with a big group of friends like this, and how much I love and respect all of them.
So. Race day. I caught an early shuttle to the start line (making very sure I was on the correct bus, to the half marathon start rather than the full marathon start. Thanks to Ed and Wayne for the repeated reminders). Unfortunately, we runners were told we couldn't wait on the nice warm, comfy bus but would have to debark so the bus could go back into town to get more runners. Fortunately, there were several heating lamps set up to help ward off the predawn chill. Unfortunately, those lamps were a good quarter mile away from the portajohn area. Fortunately, enough people were in line for the portajohns that collective body heat kept those lines from being freezing.
After that, and after a very short warmup consisting of a few strides and not much else, I put myself in line with the runners at the start line. We were told we'd be released in waves of about 100 or so runners at a time, maybe 30 seconds apart. I thought I was far enough back that I'd be at the front of the second wave. Turns out I was not: I went out at the tail end of the first wave. Oh well. I hit PLAY on my iPod and started the music as I started the run.
Appropriately enough, the first song was the Black Eyed Peas: I Got A Feeling. Good groove and symbolically optimistic (symbomistic?) lyrics. I let myself go, pulled along by the beat and the energy of the front runners. After a few minutes, though, I reminded myself that I needed to slow down: a glance at my Garmin told me I was running sub-7 minute pace! Slow down there, cowboy, got 12 miles left to go on this thing!
For the first few miles that proved easier said than done. I felt strong, light, and fast. My music was rocking, and my energy and spirits were high (though I was keeping about 37% of my focus on my footing, just to be sure). I hit the 10k mark in under 49 minutes, which is my fastest 10k time on record. In fact, my fastest mile of the race was mile 4: 7:24.
Unfortunately, that's when I started to slow down. Only a little bit, but I definitely eased off my pace for the second half of the race. I wasn't too worried about that, as I felt I'd built up a decent cushion timewise. But as mile 7 and mile 8 wrapped up, I had to tell myself enough was enough. Fortunately, at that point, I was saved by my old friend "Master of Puppets." The 8-minute song gave me the challenge I needed to push myself for a mile.
Just when I thought I was back up to speed, my right calf started to cramp. Normally this is a sign of dehydration, but I had been drinking plenty of fluids and then some so I didn't believe it was that. It might have been stretching issues, but I thought I'd done a sufficient prerace warmup routine. In any event, I tried to ignore it and push on, though I did slap some BioFreeze on my calf in mile 11. That worked for a bit, but in mile 12 as the spasms returned with a vengeance I stopped for a very brief (less than 10 seconds) calf stretch. I also resorted to walking a bit during the last mile, hoping that the rest would convince the spasms to go away. They did not. In fact, with less than a quarter mile to go, my left calf decided to get in on the fun, too!
As I topped the last (small) rise and saw the right turn to the finish ahead, and heard the cheers of spectators, I pushed the pace as fast as I dared. Both my calves were quivering at this point, and I had to concentrate very hard on staying upright even as I forced my legs to move faster. I'm sure I looked like the wobbly AT-ST from Return of the Jedi as I made my way down the final stretch. But I saw the finish line clock approaching 1:45:00, and knew I was going to hit my goal.
After finishing my race, I spent the rest of the morning spectating, cheering for the half and full marathon finishers as they came across. It was very exciting for me to be able to cheer for my Roost and Runner's Edge teammates, especially since when I run a full marathon in these circumstances, I'm never the first one done. I was very happy for and proud of all my teammates for their accomplishments.
Me? I'm exceedingly happy with my own race, to be sure. A five-minute PR and sub-1:45 half marathon? Yeah, I'll take it!
Official Time: 1:44:21
YTD Race Miles: 147
YTD Total Miles: 1344.6
That's all?: I have an unofficial competition going with a friend of mine who lives in Michigan. We joke we're always chasing each other's race times. She had me beat at this distance by a solid five minutes. Now I've got her by 28 seconds. I can feel her breathing down my neck.....
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Kansas City Marathon 2012
Thanks to Runner's Edge of Kansas City ("the Original"), I had the chance to run this marathon as a Pacer for the 5:45 group. Unlike at Denver last month, this time I was set to pace for the entire 26.2 mile distance, but at a pace almost 2 hours slower than my marathon PR. ("And, in fact, my finish time sits as my slowest marathon time ever." "Yeah...by about 24 minutes." "Shh!") Thanks to the Walker Group Coach from Runner's Edge of the Rockies, I had a good race strategy, which I'd spent the last few weeks practicing: walk for 0.35 miles, then run for 0.15. I set my Garmin for an interval workout to give a beep every time I had to change speed--without that, I would have driven myself crazy watching for those splits or, more than likely, forgotten to look entirely.
My co-pacer Carla and I discussed our strategy race-day morning. Since I had more pacing experience than she, I would take the lead and be responsible for holding the pace. She would fall back and act as sweeper. At the start line (well, about a quarter-mile back of it, really), we found we had a good-sized group of runners planning to run with us, a dozen or so. There was a mixed bag of first-timers, long-timers, maniacs, and folks who'd run marathons before but decades ago. I hoped that all of them would stick with us for the whole race; but I told them that if they were feeling strong and wanted to run ahead to the next group, they wouldn't hurt our feelings. Quite the opposite, in fact! Likewise, if they started ahead of us but needed to fall back or run behind us, that was okay too. "Run your own race!" One first-time runner who was going to start with us did exactly that: after hanging with me for less than a quarter mile, he pulled ahead. I never saw him again, and he finished in 5:29:29.
There were, however, eight or ten runners that stuck with us for most of the race. There were six that stayed with me pretty consistently as we wound our way through Kansas City, sometimes falling back a bit but mostly keeping right up with me, and a few more that hung back with Carla. As we went, I did my best to provide encouragement as well as distraction: after every run break I congratulated the runners with me, and shared with them a few of my funnier ("At least, to me...") running tales. I told them the story of the end of the Phoenix marathon, how spectators at every corner in the last half mile would say "Only one more turn!" until I threatened to punch somebody in the nose. I mentioned that a co-pacer friend of mine "back home in Denver" had as her gimmick a joke she would tell every mile when she paced half marathons, but that I couldn't do that because I'd never remember 26 jokes unless I wrote them down. ("Besides which, you only really have, like, four.")
Not that I entirely dominated the conversation, at least in the early miles. I wanted to hear about the people running with me, get some of their stories. At the same time, I didn't want them to expend too much energy talking with me as we ran, knowing they'd need it in the race's final miles. Still, I was able to get to know a few of the more gregarious and talkative runners keeping pace with me. One in particular, a 61-year old who was running his first marathon in many years, had some terrific stories to tell of his decades of military service.
As the morning and the race went on, I was pleased to see that we were keeping very much on pace, thanks to the walk/run strategy. A 5 hour, 45 minute marathon means an average pace of 13 minute, nine second miles, which would have been very difficult for me to manage for the whole distance: not because I'd have to push myself to keep it, but because I'd have to concentrate hard on holding back the entire time. With the system I used, we could walk (deliberately; we weren't strolling, we were definitely racewalking) at an even pace, and then run faster or slower depending on how much time we had to hit our splits.
After about 18 miles, the group of six that was with me had dwindled to three. However we caught up to a few runners who had started ahead of us and were slipping back. More than a few of them, upon being passed by me and my pacer sign, would rally themselves to pick up the pace. At mile 21, I told the 61-year old, who had kept pace with me for the entire race so far and seemed to have as much energy left in him as I did (if not more), that he should run on ahead. "As much as I've enjoyed running and talking with you this time--and I really have," I told him, "I think you can definitely try pushing yourself to run on ahead of me. Don't hold yourself back on my account!" After thanking me for sharing my racing wisdom and leadership, he took off. I checked later: he finished his race three minutes head of me. I probably should have told him to make his move sooner!
Meanwhile, another of the runners who'd stuck more or less with me for the entire race was starting to have some troubles. She was pushing herself pretty hard, and stayed pretty positive, but was definitely struggling. I told her I'd stick with her to the end of the race (at this point, less than 5 miles away, with a nice downhill to look forward to), and offer all the encouragement and support I could. I looked back; Carla likewise was keeping pace with another runner who'd been with us from the start (a friend of the one running with me, in fact). True to my word, I walked and jogged alongside Melissa for the rest of the race, doing my best to keep her distracted with my four jokes and a retelling of the Phoenix story, among other things, and motivated. This was her first marathon, and I told her how proud of her I was for doing something that only a very small portion of the population ever considers, let alone accomplishes. I shared with her a comment that had been shared with me just before my first marathon, that in spite of all the support and encouragement my friends and family (and even running friends) had given me, that in the end, *I* was the one doing all those miles. I told Melissa, "You're not doing this for them. You're doing it for yourself. It's your victory, it's your accomplishment. It's something that you'll always remember, always be able to look back on with enormous pride. And, since it's your first, it'll be your PR! Until the next one..."
In the last 5k, I gave her a few of my remaining Honey Stinger chews. I rallied her to jog down the long hill in mile 24, and kept up my encouragement as she slogged through the last few miles. Even at the small bridge that we had to get over in the last quarter mile, I pushed her as hard as she could go. "Hill? What hill? There's no hill here!" We topped that and had the downslope to the finish line, and she picked up her pace to cross with all the energy she had left--which wasn't much. After we got our medals, she turned to me and thanked me for pacing and encouraging her and pushing her as much as I did. I told her she had nothing to thank me for: she'd done it all on her own.
I was very pleased with how the day turned out. We'd had a good sized group that had run with us for most of the race, and a few people who managed to pull ahead of us. Carla and I each stuck with a runner who needed some support, and we got them across the finish line. It is true that I didn't hit my targeted time of 5:44:59. I certainly could have; but I felt it was more important to push a first-timer to her first finish, to encourage her and support her, rather than leaving her in my dust so I could get my own time. That support mechanism was as important a part of my job as the actual pacing, if not more so.
Official Time: 5:47:18
YTD Race Miles: 133.9
YTD Total Miles: 1183.4
Worth a punch in the nose: In the last mile of the race, I told Melissa that the upcoming turn was the last one on the course, that she'd see the finish line as we came around it. Turns out, there were two more turns ahead of us.
My co-pacer Carla and I discussed our strategy race-day morning. Since I had more pacing experience than she, I would take the lead and be responsible for holding the pace. She would fall back and act as sweeper. At the start line (well, about a quarter-mile back of it, really), we found we had a good-sized group of runners planning to run with us, a dozen or so. There was a mixed bag of first-timers, long-timers, maniacs, and folks who'd run marathons before but decades ago. I hoped that all of them would stick with us for the whole race; but I told them that if they were feeling strong and wanted to run ahead to the next group, they wouldn't hurt our feelings. Quite the opposite, in fact! Likewise, if they started ahead of us but needed to fall back or run behind us, that was okay too. "Run your own race!" One first-time runner who was going to start with us did exactly that: after hanging with me for less than a quarter mile, he pulled ahead. I never saw him again, and he finished in 5:29:29.
There were, however, eight or ten runners that stuck with us for most of the race. There were six that stayed with me pretty consistently as we wound our way through Kansas City, sometimes falling back a bit but mostly keeping right up with me, and a few more that hung back with Carla. As we went, I did my best to provide encouragement as well as distraction: after every run break I congratulated the runners with me, and shared with them a few of my funnier ("At least, to me...") running tales. I told them the story of the end of the Phoenix marathon, how spectators at every corner in the last half mile would say "Only one more turn!" until I threatened to punch somebody in the nose. I mentioned that a co-pacer friend of mine "back home in Denver" had as her gimmick a joke she would tell every mile when she paced half marathons, but that I couldn't do that because I'd never remember 26 jokes unless I wrote them down. ("Besides which, you only really have, like, four.")
Not that I entirely dominated the conversation, at least in the early miles. I wanted to hear about the people running with me, get some of their stories. At the same time, I didn't want them to expend too much energy talking with me as we ran, knowing they'd need it in the race's final miles. Still, I was able to get to know a few of the more gregarious and talkative runners keeping pace with me. One in particular, a 61-year old who was running his first marathon in many years, had some terrific stories to tell of his decades of military service.
As the morning and the race went on, I was pleased to see that we were keeping very much on pace, thanks to the walk/run strategy. A 5 hour, 45 minute marathon means an average pace of 13 minute, nine second miles, which would have been very difficult for me to manage for the whole distance: not because I'd have to push myself to keep it, but because I'd have to concentrate hard on holding back the entire time. With the system I used, we could walk (deliberately; we weren't strolling, we were definitely racewalking) at an even pace, and then run faster or slower depending on how much time we had to hit our splits.
After about 18 miles, the group of six that was with me had dwindled to three. However we caught up to a few runners who had started ahead of us and were slipping back. More than a few of them, upon being passed by me and my pacer sign, would rally themselves to pick up the pace. At mile 21, I told the 61-year old, who had kept pace with me for the entire race so far and seemed to have as much energy left in him as I did (if not more), that he should run on ahead. "As much as I've enjoyed running and talking with you this time--and I really have," I told him, "I think you can definitely try pushing yourself to run on ahead of me. Don't hold yourself back on my account!" After thanking me for sharing my racing wisdom and leadership, he took off. I checked later: he finished his race three minutes head of me. I probably should have told him to make his move sooner!
Meanwhile, another of the runners who'd stuck more or less with me for the entire race was starting to have some troubles. She was pushing herself pretty hard, and stayed pretty positive, but was definitely struggling. I told her I'd stick with her to the end of the race (at this point, less than 5 miles away, with a nice downhill to look forward to), and offer all the encouragement and support I could. I looked back; Carla likewise was keeping pace with another runner who'd been with us from the start (a friend of the one running with me, in fact). True to my word, I walked and jogged alongside Melissa for the rest of the race, doing my best to keep her distracted with my four jokes and a retelling of the Phoenix story, among other things, and motivated. This was her first marathon, and I told her how proud of her I was for doing something that only a very small portion of the population ever considers, let alone accomplishes. I shared with her a comment that had been shared with me just before my first marathon, that in spite of all the support and encouragement my friends and family (and even running friends) had given me, that in the end, *I* was the one doing all those miles. I told Melissa, "You're not doing this for them. You're doing it for yourself. It's your victory, it's your accomplishment. It's something that you'll always remember, always be able to look back on with enormous pride. And, since it's your first, it'll be your PR! Until the next one..."
In the last 5k, I gave her a few of my remaining Honey Stinger chews. I rallied her to jog down the long hill in mile 24, and kept up my encouragement as she slogged through the last few miles. Even at the small bridge that we had to get over in the last quarter mile, I pushed her as hard as she could go. "Hill? What hill? There's no hill here!" We topped that and had the downslope to the finish line, and she picked up her pace to cross with all the energy she had left--which wasn't much. After we got our medals, she turned to me and thanked me for pacing and encouraging her and pushing her as much as I did. I told her she had nothing to thank me for: she'd done it all on her own.
I was very pleased with how the day turned out. We'd had a good sized group that had run with us for most of the race, and a few people who managed to pull ahead of us. Carla and I each stuck with a runner who needed some support, and we got them across the finish line. It is true that I didn't hit my targeted time of 5:44:59. I certainly could have; but I felt it was more important to push a first-timer to her first finish, to encourage her and support her, rather than leaving her in my dust so I could get my own time. That support mechanism was as important a part of my job as the actual pacing, if not more so.
Official Time: 5:47:18
YTD Race Miles: 133.9
YTD Total Miles: 1183.4
Worth a punch in the nose: In the last mile of the race, I told Melissa that the upcoming turn was the last one on the course, that she'd see the finish line as we came around it. Turns out, there were two more turns ahead of us.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Denver Marathon 2012
I've had this race on my schedule for some time, with plans to be a pace group leader since Runner's Edge was again tasked with that responsibility. My hope had been to pace the half marathon, maybe the 2-hour group like I did last year. However, I was assigned to pace the first half of the full marathon, for the 4-hour pace group (which, obviously, would have me run the first 13.1 miles in 2 hours; in other words, essentially what I'd hoped to do anyway). Because I am crazy...or endlessly optimistic...or possibly an idiot...or at the very least, a runner, last week I made the decision to run the second half of the marathon, after handing off pacing responsibilities to a teammate. This, despite the fact that I ran the Pocatello marathon only three weeks before today's race. I told myself that while I would hold to race pace for the first half (to fulfill my obligations as a pacer), I would let myself back down in the second half and walk as necessary. Or not; if I was really feeling good, I told myself, I'd consider continuing to race. It would definitely be a game-day (hell, game-minute) decision, but I was leaning heavily towards continuing and just backing off my effort a little bit.
There was a good crowd of people wanting to run a 4-hour marathon this morning, and I was feeling confident that I would be able to get them to the halfway point in two hours. I felt well-rested and eager for a good run. ("I also saw it as part of my responsibility to keep the runners with me motivated and entertained as much as possible, so I'd planned on a few jokes to tell along the way." "Breaking in your stand-up?" "Something like that.") I ran the first mile in exactly 10 minutes, which was actually two seconds faster than it should have been; but I was very pleased with that. "Mile one, ten minutes!" I told the runners with me. "You'll notice the clock reads '14:53;' who's ready for a pop quiz? How far behind does that make us?" After a brief moment of silence, one runner answered correctly: "Four fifty-three." As a prize, I let him hold the pace sign for a quarter mile.
I want to give a quick shout-out to Eddie and the Runner's Roost team for their fantastic aid station at mile 2--and for the shout-out! I was pleased to see so many friends that early on the course. As I continued to run, I fielded a few questions from fellow runners about my pace and strategy. One gentleman actually called me "Sir." I thanked him for that, and then said, "But please, call me Doug. And that goes for the rest of you--" I continued to the crowd. "You can call me Doug, or--if you've ever seen Dead Poets' Society--O Captain, My Captain." That got me a few chuckles as we pressed up the hill on 17th.
When we got into City Park, we were still on pace, and I was still feeling pretty good. "Welcome to City Park!" I said. "Originally the park was going to be named Denver's Central Park; but New York found out about that and pitched a fit, so they went with Denver's City Park instead." "That's very interesting," one runner remarked. "Thank you," I replied. "It may or may not be true." ("Let me guess: Wikipedia?") As we wound our way through Central--I mean, City Park, I kept up the encouraging words and the pace, keeping us right where we needed to be. ("Exchange at Mile 6: 'The good news is, we're right on time.' 'What's the bad news?' 'Why would I give you people bad news?'")
I still felt pretty good for a few more miles; but at mile 10 I started fading fast. I'm not sure what happened, but suddenly, as we entered Cheeseman Park ("Little-known fact: Cheeseman takes its name from Ch-isee-mahn, an old Algonquin word for 'Who the hell builds a park on the side of a hill?'" "Another fact of dubious veracity?"), holding the pace became a definite struggle. I was helped somewhat by the downhill of Cheeseman, which was nice; more so by the sight of Coach Manthey and some of my Runner's Edge teammates at the course split; but alas, it was a short reprieve. When we exited Cheeseman and turned onto 7th ("So named because the Governor's son could only count that high,") I knew I was in trouble.
Which brings me to the most embarassing part of this tale. Just before the mile 12 mark, I ran completely out of gas. I knew I'd never be able to hold the pace for that last mile. Fortunately for the runners I was trying to lead, one of my Runner's Edge teammates, who'd been running alongside me for the last mile or so, agreed to take the pace sign and Garmin on to the exchange point at mile 13. Yes, you read that right. I couldn't make it, so I handed off a mile early. Fortunately Chris was able to keep the pace and handed off to Dan at the exchange point. As for me, I was through. Obviously I didn't continue the rest of the race; once I was sure Dan was good to go and checked in with Coach Manthey, I walked back to downtown.
Everyone says I'm being too hard on myself. Maybe, but I take failure very personally. Especially when there are other people involved. If I'd just been running my own race, I wouldn't be as upset as I am; but today I had people depending on me and I feel like I let them down. I'll have an opportunity for redemption next month in Kansas City; in the meanwhile I can look at the 12 miles I did run today and take some pride in the fact that, at least that much, I was able to do well.
There was a good crowd of people wanting to run a 4-hour marathon this morning, and I was feeling confident that I would be able to get them to the halfway point in two hours. I felt well-rested and eager for a good run. ("I also saw it as part of my responsibility to keep the runners with me motivated and entertained as much as possible, so I'd planned on a few jokes to tell along the way." "Breaking in your stand-up?" "Something like that.") I ran the first mile in exactly 10 minutes, which was actually two seconds faster than it should have been; but I was very pleased with that. "Mile one, ten minutes!" I told the runners with me. "You'll notice the clock reads '14:53;' who's ready for a pop quiz? How far behind does that make us?" After a brief moment of silence, one runner answered correctly: "Four fifty-three." As a prize, I let him hold the pace sign for a quarter mile.
I want to give a quick shout-out to Eddie and the Runner's Roost team for their fantastic aid station at mile 2--and for the shout-out! I was pleased to see so many friends that early on the course. As I continued to run, I fielded a few questions from fellow runners about my pace and strategy. One gentleman actually called me "Sir." I thanked him for that, and then said, "But please, call me Doug. And that goes for the rest of you--" I continued to the crowd. "You can call me Doug, or--if you've ever seen Dead Poets' Society--O Captain, My Captain." That got me a few chuckles as we pressed up the hill on 17th.
When we got into City Park, we were still on pace, and I was still feeling pretty good. "Welcome to City Park!" I said. "Originally the park was going to be named Denver's Central Park; but New York found out about that and pitched a fit, so they went with Denver's City Park instead." "That's very interesting," one runner remarked. "Thank you," I replied. "It may or may not be true." ("Let me guess: Wikipedia?") As we wound our way through Central--I mean, City Park, I kept up the encouraging words and the pace, keeping us right where we needed to be. ("Exchange at Mile 6: 'The good news is, we're right on time.' 'What's the bad news?' 'Why would I give you people bad news?'")
I still felt pretty good for a few more miles; but at mile 10 I started fading fast. I'm not sure what happened, but suddenly, as we entered Cheeseman Park ("Little-known fact: Cheeseman takes its name from Ch-isee-mahn, an old Algonquin word for 'Who the hell builds a park on the side of a hill?'" "Another fact of dubious veracity?"), holding the pace became a definite struggle. I was helped somewhat by the downhill of Cheeseman, which was nice; more so by the sight of Coach Manthey and some of my Runner's Edge teammates at the course split; but alas, it was a short reprieve. When we exited Cheeseman and turned onto 7th ("So named because the Governor's son could only count that high,") I knew I was in trouble.
Which brings me to the most embarassing part of this tale. Just before the mile 12 mark, I ran completely out of gas. I knew I'd never be able to hold the pace for that last mile. Fortunately for the runners I was trying to lead, one of my Runner's Edge teammates, who'd been running alongside me for the last mile or so, agreed to take the pace sign and Garmin on to the exchange point at mile 13. Yes, you read that right. I couldn't make it, so I handed off a mile early. Fortunately Chris was able to keep the pace and handed off to Dan at the exchange point. As for me, I was through. Obviously I didn't continue the rest of the race; once I was sure Dan was good to go and checked in with Coach Manthey, I walked back to downtown.
Everyone says I'm being too hard on myself. Maybe, but I take failure very personally. Especially when there are other people involved. If I'd just been running my own race, I wouldn't be as upset as I am; but today I had people depending on me and I feel like I let them down. I'll have an opportunity for redemption next month in Kansas City; in the meanwhile I can look at the 12 miles I did run today and take some pride in the fact that, at least that much, I was able to do well.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Pocatello Marathon 2012
For marathon #14, I journeyed with a couple dozen of my Runner's Edge of the Rockies teammates to the little burg of Pocatello, ID. The glowing reviews of Jim L and Mike K had led to us choosing this race as an unofficial road trip race. ("Ironically, neither of those gentlemen came on the trip with us this year." "Ironically and fortunately, given what happened." "Shh! Ever hear of 'spoiler alert'?")
The nice thing about the Runner's Edge road trips (well, one of the many nice things) is the chance to spend time with my teammates before (and after) the race, since I don't really do that during the marathons. Friday morning, flying out to Salt Lake City I found myself on the same flight as Erin, Beth, Lynn, Stevie Mac, Susan & Mark, Nicole, and Gert. Then, in Salt Lake, I met up with Mike M and his wife Stephanie, and carpooled with them up to Pocatello. As someone who enjoys the social aspect of running, and making friends with the people on my team, I definitely appreciated the chance to spend a couple of hours with them, getting to know them.
The Expo at the Clarion Inn was pretty small. Not quite as small as the Casper expo, but smaller (slightly) than the one at Steamboat. ("For those of you keeping score at home, that would make this the second-smallest Expo I've been to." "I can virtually guarantee that almost nobody is keeping score at home.")
The pasta dinner Friday night was notable for two things: one, about one-third of the tables were occupied by Runner's Edge of the Rockies. ("Ha.") Two, the speaker, a man named Dane Rauschenberg, gave a very engaging and entertaining speech. He told his running story, how he was a nonrunner athlete who fell into marathon running. ("Long story short, it was because of a girl." "That has a familiar ring to it...") After completing six marathons, he decided to challenge himself by running one marathon a week for an entire year. He was interesting, inspiring, and very, very funny.
I was up early this morning for the race day shuttle. It was still dark and cold--and windy up at the start, as it turned out. Fortunately there was a smallish barn at the start. It wasn't warm, but it blocked the wind. And, there were baby goats inside! We all knew about that from Jim and Mike, and I think most of us were secretly ("Or perhaps not-so-secretly...") looking forward to that part. I huddled in the barn for a while before the race with Erin, Beth, Lynn, Frank, Ashley, Michael & Anita, Jay, Andy, Laura, Kandy, Wayne, and Paul.
Pocatello has a pretty low-key start. Not as low-key as the popgun that started the Steamboat marathon, though: at least, this race had an audible countdown! There was good crowd energy, and my energy was definitely in a good place. Then, we were off!
The first few miles of the course featured a very steep downhill, and I found it difficult to hold back to my first- and second-mile paces. I had three pace bands: for a 3:45, 3:50, and 3:55 marathon. After the first mile, I abandoned entirely the possibility of using the 3:45 splits. But I told myself I'd stick to the 3:50 pace for the first half of the race, then maybe drop back to 3:55 pace. After 6 miles, I decided to try to stick with 3:50 pace until mile 20, if I could.
At mile 7 there was a brief out-and-back on the course. Normally I'm not a big fan of these, but today it offered a great chance to see Mike M, Paul, Erin, Wayne, Jay, Michael K, Debbie, Anita, and Suzanne coming back (as I was going out), and Lynn and Laura going out (as I was coming back). Since, as I said before, I don't usually get a chance to see or cheer for my teammates on the course (since so many of them are faster than I), this was nice.
I caught up with Suzanne near the start of the half marathon, which rather sensibly followed the same course as the second half of the full. This was at 1 hour 57 minutes (something) seconds. This was encouraging, and I confirmed my decision from mile 6 to hold the 3:50 pace until mile 20. But it was getting tougher to hold that pace at that point. I managed to hold the pace for a few more miles though. But at mile 18, things started to fall apart for me. My legs were getting sore and I was getting tired. I started feeling the effects of the first half of the race, and what turned out to be (once I had a chance, after the race, to review my splits) surprisingly uneven pacing efforts on my part. I walked a lot of mile 18, and continued to walk for short distances for each subsequent mile. Except mile 19: I forced myself to run that in its entirety, and at a good clip (about 8:30).
Now I was passing the slower half marathon racers. I passed Miss Pocatello (who was wearing her beauty pageant sash), and leapfrogged with her once or twice as we took our respective walk breaks. During a walk break on the hill at mile 21, I took advantage of the opportunity to chat her up for a bit. ("Of course you did.") I told her I was from Denver. "How did you happen to come here?" she asked. "By plane," I replied (she laughed), before explaining that Runner's Edge had elected to come here as a group. Then, I made my move. "Being a stranger here," I said, "I don't really know the town, and would have no idea where to go to celebrate after the race. You're a native," I assumed ("Born and raised," she confirmed). "So maybe you could recommend some places." She said she had a few she'd be happy to tell me about. "Maybe you'd even like to join me in celebrating this evening," I said. She chuckled and politely declined, explaining that she was going to celebrate with her family. And that was that. I started running again, for a little while.
By this time, a PR was definitely out of the question, as was a sub-4 finish. I still thought I might be able to finish faster than I had at Cleveland in 2010 (4:08). But because I was walking so much, and I didn't want to constantly glance at my Garmin and get discouraged with my lack of speed, I switched to the map screen. Consequently, I have no idea what my splits were for the last 5k of the race.
At mile 24 I tried one again to rally my flagging spirits. I'd been plagued with negative self-talk ever since mile 18, in spite of my best efforts to stay positive and derail the negative-thought train. I told myself that all I had left was a single lap around Washington Park, but it didn't help. The sun had finally come out (it had stayed mercifully cloudy ever since I'd gotten out of the mountains and into the exposed second half), the temperature was starting to rise for sure, and the Bio-Freeze I'd slapped on my legs at mile 22 was long gone.
Just before the 26 mile mark, there was a banner strung across the road. From a distance, I could not tell what it was and thought it might be the finish line. As I drew closer, I realized it was a banner for the Pocatello Zoo. That was a tease. But then I made the final turn and saw the finish line. It sure looked far away. Even when I got to the 26-mile mark, that line looked a lot farther away than 400 meters. At that point I was shuffling along at 11-minute pace. Determined to have as strong a finish as I could, I tried to pick up my speed. Surprisingly, I managed to push myself to 8:30 pace. I crossed the finish line in 4 hours, 10 minutes, and 23 seconds, just two minutes slower than Cleveland, for my third-fastest marathon time (to date).
Comparing notes with the rest of Runner's Edge after the race, we all agreed that the second half of the race was tougher than advertised (and agreed only perhaps half-jokingly to never again believe anything Jim or Mike tells us about a race). I certainly think I ran a good race, the best race I could under the circumstances, but about 15 minutes slower than I'd hoped.
A funny postscript: I wore my medal to dinner with the team at Ruby Tuesdays tonight. The hostess asked me if I'd won the race. Remembering what Dane had said at the prerace dinner last night*, I told her, "No. I came in second." She said I was amazing.
*His exact words were, "Tell anyone who asks that you took second. Why not? They'll never know--unless everyone in your group says they took second!"
Official Time: 4:10:23
YTD Race Miles: 107.7
YTD Total Miles: 989.7
Touching Tribute: Michael Fontes had been looking forward to this race. Those of us that ran, did so in his memory, many of us with Mike Fontes memorial bibs. During the awards ceremony, the Race Director acknowledged Michael and made a special presentation to us of his finisher's medal.
The nice thing about the Runner's Edge road trips (well, one of the many nice things) is the chance to spend time with my teammates before (and after) the race, since I don't really do that during the marathons. Friday morning, flying out to Salt Lake City I found myself on the same flight as Erin, Beth, Lynn, Stevie Mac, Susan & Mark, Nicole, and Gert. Then, in Salt Lake, I met up with Mike M and his wife Stephanie, and carpooled with them up to Pocatello. As someone who enjoys the social aspect of running, and making friends with the people on my team, I definitely appreciated the chance to spend a couple of hours with them, getting to know them.
The Expo at the Clarion Inn was pretty small. Not quite as small as the Casper expo, but smaller (slightly) than the one at Steamboat. ("For those of you keeping score at home, that would make this the second-smallest Expo I've been to." "I can virtually guarantee that almost nobody is keeping score at home.")
The pasta dinner Friday night was notable for two things: one, about one-third of the tables were occupied by Runner's Edge of the Rockies. ("Ha.") Two, the speaker, a man named Dane Rauschenberg, gave a very engaging and entertaining speech. He told his running story, how he was a nonrunner athlete who fell into marathon running. ("Long story short, it was because of a girl." "That has a familiar ring to it...") After completing six marathons, he decided to challenge himself by running one marathon a week for an entire year. He was interesting, inspiring, and very, very funny.
I was up early this morning for the race day shuttle. It was still dark and cold--and windy up at the start, as it turned out. Fortunately there was a smallish barn at the start. It wasn't warm, but it blocked the wind. And, there were baby goats inside! We all knew about that from Jim and Mike, and I think most of us were secretly ("Or perhaps not-so-secretly...") looking forward to that part. I huddled in the barn for a while before the race with Erin, Beth, Lynn, Frank, Ashley, Michael & Anita, Jay, Andy, Laura, Kandy, Wayne, and Paul.
Pocatello has a pretty low-key start. Not as low-key as the popgun that started the Steamboat marathon, though: at least, this race had an audible countdown! There was good crowd energy, and my energy was definitely in a good place. Then, we were off!
The first few miles of the course featured a very steep downhill, and I found it difficult to hold back to my first- and second-mile paces. I had three pace bands: for a 3:45, 3:50, and 3:55 marathon. After the first mile, I abandoned entirely the possibility of using the 3:45 splits. But I told myself I'd stick to the 3:50 pace for the first half of the race, then maybe drop back to 3:55 pace. After 6 miles, I decided to try to stick with 3:50 pace until mile 20, if I could.
At mile 7 there was a brief out-and-back on the course. Normally I'm not a big fan of these, but today it offered a great chance to see Mike M, Paul, Erin, Wayne, Jay, Michael K, Debbie, Anita, and Suzanne coming back (as I was going out), and Lynn and Laura going out (as I was coming back). Since, as I said before, I don't usually get a chance to see or cheer for my teammates on the course (since so many of them are faster than I), this was nice.
I caught up with Suzanne near the start of the half marathon, which rather sensibly followed the same course as the second half of the full. This was at 1 hour 57 minutes (something) seconds. This was encouraging, and I confirmed my decision from mile 6 to hold the 3:50 pace until mile 20. But it was getting tougher to hold that pace at that point. I managed to hold the pace for a few more miles though. But at mile 18, things started to fall apart for me. My legs were getting sore and I was getting tired. I started feeling the effects of the first half of the race, and what turned out to be (once I had a chance, after the race, to review my splits) surprisingly uneven pacing efforts on my part. I walked a lot of mile 18, and continued to walk for short distances for each subsequent mile. Except mile 19: I forced myself to run that in its entirety, and at a good clip (about 8:30).
Now I was passing the slower half marathon racers. I passed Miss Pocatello (who was wearing her beauty pageant sash), and leapfrogged with her once or twice as we took our respective walk breaks. During a walk break on the hill at mile 21, I took advantage of the opportunity to chat her up for a bit. ("Of course you did.") I told her I was from Denver. "How did you happen to come here?" she asked. "By plane," I replied (she laughed), before explaining that Runner's Edge had elected to come here as a group. Then, I made my move. "Being a stranger here," I said, "I don't really know the town, and would have no idea where to go to celebrate after the race. You're a native," I assumed ("Born and raised," she confirmed). "So maybe you could recommend some places." She said she had a few she'd be happy to tell me about. "Maybe you'd even like to join me in celebrating this evening," I said. She chuckled and politely declined, explaining that she was going to celebrate with her family. And that was that. I started running again, for a little while.
By this time, a PR was definitely out of the question, as was a sub-4 finish. I still thought I might be able to finish faster than I had at Cleveland in 2010 (4:08). But because I was walking so much, and I didn't want to constantly glance at my Garmin and get discouraged with my lack of speed, I switched to the map screen. Consequently, I have no idea what my splits were for the last 5k of the race.
At mile 24 I tried one again to rally my flagging spirits. I'd been plagued with negative self-talk ever since mile 18, in spite of my best efforts to stay positive and derail the negative-thought train. I told myself that all I had left was a single lap around Washington Park, but it didn't help. The sun had finally come out (it had stayed mercifully cloudy ever since I'd gotten out of the mountains and into the exposed second half), the temperature was starting to rise for sure, and the Bio-Freeze I'd slapped on my legs at mile 22 was long gone.
Just before the 26 mile mark, there was a banner strung across the road. From a distance, I could not tell what it was and thought it might be the finish line. As I drew closer, I realized it was a banner for the Pocatello Zoo. That was a tease. But then I made the final turn and saw the finish line. It sure looked far away. Even when I got to the 26-mile mark, that line looked a lot farther away than 400 meters. At that point I was shuffling along at 11-minute pace. Determined to have as strong a finish as I could, I tried to pick up my speed. Surprisingly, I managed to push myself to 8:30 pace. I crossed the finish line in 4 hours, 10 minutes, and 23 seconds, just two minutes slower than Cleveland, for my third-fastest marathon time (to date).
Comparing notes with the rest of Runner's Edge after the race, we all agreed that the second half of the race was tougher than advertised (and agreed only perhaps half-jokingly to never again believe anything Jim or Mike tells us about a race). I certainly think I ran a good race, the best race I could under the circumstances, but about 15 minutes slower than I'd hoped.
A funny postscript: I wore my medal to dinner with the team at Ruby Tuesdays tonight. The hostess asked me if I'd won the race. Remembering what Dane had said at the prerace dinner last night*, I told her, "No. I came in second." She said I was amazing.
*His exact words were, "Tell anyone who asks that you took second. Why not? They'll never know--unless everyone in your group says they took second!"
Official Time: 4:10:23
YTD Race Miles: 107.7
YTD Total Miles: 989.7
Touching Tribute: Michael Fontes had been looking forward to this race. Those of us that ran, did so in his memory, many of us with Mike Fontes memorial bibs. During the awards ceremony, the Race Director acknowledged Michael and made a special presentation to us of his finisher's medal.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Firefly 5k 2012
This was a first: a nighttime race the night before a long run (every so often I have a race the day after a long run, like the Father's Day 5k this year or the Cherry Creek Sneak for the last 2 years). Thanks to the Runners Roost Team, I got a free entry to this inaugural (for Denver at least) glow-in-the-dark party run at City Park.
I told myself going into tonight's race that I would race hard, and not let myself keep anything in the bag for tomorrow's scheduled 22 mile long run. I had a couple of decent warmup miles that left me feeling like I could have a very solid race. But for whatever reason, it wasn't to be. I started off at a decent enough clip, averaging 7:00 and 7:30 mile pace for almost three quarters of a mile! Then I had to walk (I'm not quite sure why) for a little bit. I rallied for the second mile, though my pace slipped to between 7:30 and 8:00 minutes. And, again, at about three quarters of the mile, I took a walk break. I think I was telling myself (despite the fact that I'd previously told myself I wouldn't tell myself) to relax because I had 22 miles scheduled for the next day. At least I managed to keep myself from walking during the third mile.
I've found that I sometimes do well with short races the day after a long run. Doing that the other way around (especially with less than 12 hours' rest) doesn't seem to work out as well.
Official Time: 25:03
YTD Race Miles: 81.5
YTD Total Miles: 906.8
Shiny: Thanks to all the glow stick necklaces and other lightup costumery, the place looked like an 80s neon paradise bar. Pretty cool, though.
I told myself going into tonight's race that I would race hard, and not let myself keep anything in the bag for tomorrow's scheduled 22 mile long run. I had a couple of decent warmup miles that left me feeling like I could have a very solid race. But for whatever reason, it wasn't to be. I started off at a decent enough clip, averaging 7:00 and 7:30 mile pace for almost three quarters of a mile! Then I had to walk (I'm not quite sure why) for a little bit. I rallied for the second mile, though my pace slipped to between 7:30 and 8:00 minutes. And, again, at about three quarters of the mile, I took a walk break. I think I was telling myself (despite the fact that I'd previously told myself I wouldn't tell myself) to relax because I had 22 miles scheduled for the next day. At least I managed to keep myself from walking during the third mile.
I've found that I sometimes do well with short races the day after a long run. Doing that the other way around (especially with less than 12 hours' rest) doesn't seem to work out as well.
Official Time: 25:03
YTD Race Miles: 81.5
YTD Total Miles: 906.8
Shiny: Thanks to all the glow stick necklaces and other lightup costumery, the place looked like an 80s neon paradise bar. Pretty cool, though.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Georgetown Half Marathon 2012
As in 2011, this year I paced the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon, this time the 2:05 runners with my friend Todd. We had a good-sized group of runners with us at the start, and I'm glad to say that most of them stayed with us for the first 10k of the race. By the halfway point, that number was down to about 8. As we increased slightly for the next few miles, before pulling back again in the last 5k, some of those runners pulled ahead of us and some fell behind.
Todd and I were exactly on pace for the entire race, according to our respective GPS watches. I was pleased by this, since we both had different kinds of watches--I have a Garmin, and Todd was using a new Polar. Every couple of miles, I would double-check with him, and our respective distance markers were exactly the same. We were also in line with the mile markers on the course, which was a nice improvement over last year when that was not the case (the only mile marker that was off this year was the 8-mile, which was at 8.25 on the course).
As we ran, I counted on Todd (who paces the 4-hour group in Runner's Edge) to keep us honest pacewise, while I took it upon myself to try to entertain those who were running with us. I didn't keep up a running commentary for 13.1 miles--not enough wind for that--but I like to think my occasional observations, jokes, and trivia provided either a distraction or some entertainment for the runners who were with us. Coming in to the last half mile, I thanked those runners within earshot for joining Todd and me on the journey, and putting up with my speechifyin'.
The weather for today's race was pretty much perfect: slightly cloudy and cool as we started, with a fairly steady breeze through most of the race. The sun really only came out for a few miles late in the race, and was considerate enough to disappear behind some clouds as we entered Idaho Springs.
Official Time: 2:05:06
YTD Race Miles: 78.4
YTD Total Miles: 881.7
"Run Forest Run": This was scrawled on the road in Gtown, courtesy of Clear Creek High's Cross Country team. I decided it was either a misspelling of a movie quote, or a sly reference to Fangorn Forest from The Lord of the Rings. Naturally, I prefer this more nerdly explanation.
Todd and I were exactly on pace for the entire race, according to our respective GPS watches. I was pleased by this, since we both had different kinds of watches--I have a Garmin, and Todd was using a new Polar. Every couple of miles, I would double-check with him, and our respective distance markers were exactly the same. We were also in line with the mile markers on the course, which was a nice improvement over last year when that was not the case (the only mile marker that was off this year was the 8-mile, which was at 8.25 on the course).
As we ran, I counted on Todd (who paces the 4-hour group in Runner's Edge) to keep us honest pacewise, while I took it upon myself to try to entertain those who were running with us. I didn't keep up a running commentary for 13.1 miles--not enough wind for that--but I like to think my occasional observations, jokes, and trivia provided either a distraction or some entertainment for the runners who were with us. Coming in to the last half mile, I thanked those runners within earshot for joining Todd and me on the journey, and putting up with my speechifyin'.
The weather for today's race was pretty much perfect: slightly cloudy and cool as we started, with a fairly steady breeze through most of the race. The sun really only came out for a few miles late in the race, and was considerate enough to disappear behind some clouds as we entered Idaho Springs.
Official Time: 2:05:06
YTD Race Miles: 78.4
YTD Total Miles: 881.7
"Run Forest Run": This was scrawled on the road in Gtown, courtesy of Clear Creek High's Cross Country team. I decided it was either a misspelling of a movie quote, or a sly reference to Fangorn Forest from The Lord of the Rings. Naturally, I prefer this more nerdly explanation.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Donor Dash 5k 2012
I tend to walk away from most races with one of two things: a new PR, or a lesson. The takeaway from today's race was definitely the latter, to wit: Get to the starting line on time!
I blame myself for this. Instead of moving to the starting line with plenty of time to spare, as I tend to do, I decided to hang back with my family. Consequently, by the time I said, "Gee, I better get up there," the national anthem was already more than half over. I jogged my way through the crowds but still was nowhere near even the end of the "runners" crowd (as opposed to the "strollers & walkers" group) when the horn blasted. This being (as most are) a chip-timed race, one might not think this would matter, since my time wouldn't even start until I crossed the starting line. However the Donor Dash this year had over 3,000 participants, and I was trying to make my way through probably 700 of them that weren't planning on racing. So, I spent a good portion of the first half mile dodging, ducking, and weaving through the crowd until things loosened up a bit on Louisiana.
Then, of course, there was the fact that I'd had a 20-mile training run yesterday. As I've said before, I kind of enjoy having races the day after 20-plus mile runs, because it helps condition me to run well when tired--as happens during the last 10k of a marathon. I've found, however, that I tend to max out my speed at about 8-minute miles in these examples (as in the Cherry Creek Sneak for 2011 and 2012). I would love to be able to hold an 8-minute mile during the last 10k of my next marathon; but for a 5k I'd like to run a little faster (my current 5k PR, from 2011's Father's Day, was at 7-minute pace). Clearly another lesson I have yet to learn is, stop running short races the day after 20 milers--or, at least, don't expect a PR.
But I am pleased with today's race. 24:42 is a respectable time. And, of course, my dad, sisters, and brother-in-law also had a lot of fun. And so did my nephew, who won the Crawler heat of the Diaper Dash!
Official Time: 24:42
YTD Race Miles: 65.3
YTD Total miles: 777.3
Diaper Dash Victory: For crawling slightly farther than the other baby in the race, Dax won a Children's Hospital night light.
I blame myself for this. Instead of moving to the starting line with plenty of time to spare, as I tend to do, I decided to hang back with my family. Consequently, by the time I said, "Gee, I better get up there," the national anthem was already more than half over. I jogged my way through the crowds but still was nowhere near even the end of the "runners" crowd (as opposed to the "strollers & walkers" group) when the horn blasted. This being (as most are) a chip-timed race, one might not think this would matter, since my time wouldn't even start until I crossed the starting line. However the Donor Dash this year had over 3,000 participants, and I was trying to make my way through probably 700 of them that weren't planning on racing. So, I spent a good portion of the first half mile dodging, ducking, and weaving through the crowd until things loosened up a bit on Louisiana.
Then, of course, there was the fact that I'd had a 20-mile training run yesterday. As I've said before, I kind of enjoy having races the day after 20-plus mile runs, because it helps condition me to run well when tired--as happens during the last 10k of a marathon. I've found, however, that I tend to max out my speed at about 8-minute miles in these examples (as in the Cherry Creek Sneak for 2011 and 2012). I would love to be able to hold an 8-minute mile during the last 10k of my next marathon; but for a 5k I'd like to run a little faster (my current 5k PR, from 2011's Father's Day, was at 7-minute pace). Clearly another lesson I have yet to learn is, stop running short races the day after 20 milers--or, at least, don't expect a PR.
But I am pleased with today's race. 24:42 is a respectable time. And, of course, my dad, sisters, and brother-in-law also had a lot of fun. And so did my nephew, who won the Crawler heat of the Diaper Dash!
Official Time: 24:42
YTD Race Miles: 65.3
YTD Total miles: 777.3
Diaper Dash Victory: For crawling slightly farther than the other baby in the race, Dax won a Children's Hospital night light.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Boulder Peak Olympic Traithlon July 2012
I believe that, to grow, I need to push myself out of my comfort zone. I try to do this whenever I race (with one or two notable exceptions). I don't always succeed, though. I know I've run races where I haven't given my all, haven't pushed myself as far as I want to. In fact there are times when I deliberately leave myself well within my own comfort zone, with zero possibility for growth. And sometimes, I overcompensate for those instances by biting off more than I can probably chew in others. Case in point: in 2006, I signed up for the Colfax Marathon, after having run exactly one organized race in my adult life--the BoulderBOLDER 10K in 2005. "Hell, I've done a 10K, and this is only 20 miles more! No problem!" That race is one of exactly 3 DNFs I have on my record. The other two, at least, were due to injury; but in the case of Colfax 2006, I simply gave up.
One would probably think (I certainly did) that today's race was another example of the same kind of overcompensating. A little background: I am a fair swimmer--at least, I can stay afloat and move myself forward. I'm pretty comfortable on my mountain bike (but still cautious). I am, I like to think, a decent runner. But I've never tried all three events back-to-back, let alone at Olympic Tri distances (1500m swim, 40km ride, 10km run). However, I've had "Do a triathlon" on my bucket/New Year's Resolution list for a few years now. I've told myself that I wanted to, but that scheduling or finances kept getting in the way. When I won an entry into today's race at Run Club a week and a half ago, I took it as a sign that it was time to put up or shut up. So I put up. I did two workouts a day over the last 10 days: ride/run, swim/ride, or swim/run (side note: triathlon training is a HUGE time commitment. Like, I always think I spend a lot of time training for my marathons, but that's just peanuts compared to tri training. Gives me a new appreciation for a 22-mile day). I got hold of a wetsuit, goggles, and swim cap courtesy of a couple of friends, replaced my rear bike tire which was wearing through one sidewall, and stocked up on fuel to consume during the race. I rode the bike course one day, and timed myself swimming 1500 meters another. I conferred with friends who have a lot of tri experience about what to pack for transition. I did everything I could in the limited time I had to condition and prepare. I didn't have any expectations beyond finishing in (hopefully) a respectable time and setting a new PR (because, as I always say, your first race at any distance is a PR).
First up: The swim! My practice 1500 took an hour, but that was because I gave myself plenty of rest opportunities and didn't really push too hard--although I did complete the first 500 meters in just under 14 minutes. My hope was to finish the swim between 45 and 60 minutes. I seeded myself towards the back of my pack, the better to hopefully avoid getting kicked in the face or something. I told myself just to swim to the first buoy, then the next one, then the next, and so on, at a consistent pace, and to try not to stop. I found that, even though I'd started at the back of my pack, I managed to pass more than a few of them as I went. Of course, before I'd even gotten to the halfway point, I was being passed by swimmers from the next wave, so I guess that all evens out. I even passed a swimmer in the last 100m or so who'd started two waves before me! As I ran up the beach to the first transition, I was quite pleased to hear my name and see several friends from Runner's Roost and Runner's Edge cheering for me. That gave me a nice lift. And I was even more surprised to see, when I got to my bike and looked at the clock on my Garmin, that it wasn't even 8:30! My swim started at 7:45, and it had taken me at least 3 minutes to get out of the water and up to transition and turn on my watch...that was a 40-minute swim at most!
Then it was on to the bike. I was so glad I'd taken advantage of the Runner's Edge Tri Club's course tour last week. I didn't remember it all exactly, but I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. I set off on my ride, and found myself heading up into the first mile along 51st St as the first finishers of that portion of the race were coming along in the opposite direction, in their last mile! Smiling grimly (or it might have been a smirk), I pedaled my way along the course, eating a couple Honey Stinger Waffles as I started slowly climbing up towards Old Stage Road. I did have to dismount on Old Stage--the longest steep climb of the course--and walk my bike up for about half a mile. But that was the only walk break that I took, and I pedaled the rest of the way. After summiting the hill I was quite glad to let gravity and my heavy mountain bike take over for a while and scream down the steep descent of the next couple of miles (although I did ride my brake for much of it, especially the part with the cop with the radar gun on the road. Mild moment of panic: was I going faster than 35 MPH? As it turns out, no. According to my Garmin, I topped out at 34.7 at that point). Also, I am 100% certain that I was the only racer on a mountain bike. In fact, 8 spectators and 6 racers (yes, I counted) complimented my bike! A six-year old spectator cried, "I like your bike!" Another spectator said, "First place Mountain Bike Division!" which I liked so much I've put it on my official Roost Team Race Report. And another rider, who passed me at mile 17, said, "You went up Old Stage on that? You have my respect!" If she'd've said "You're braver than I thought," I would have had a Star Wars geek moment; but as it was all I could do was smile and say "Thanks" and keep pushing, hoping to finish in under 2 hours. Which I did: according to my Garmin, my ride took exactly 1 hour and 56 minutes.
Last up: the run. I ditched my bike, helmet, and gloves, and started off on a surprisingly rolling out-and-back course. Teammates cheered for me as I started out, and I hoped that they'd still be there when I finished (they were). My goal for the 10k was twofold: to keep it under 60 minutes, and to be done before 11:45 (which would make for a 4-hour race). Seeing as how I started the run just before 10:25, the second goal would be easy. The first one, however, I felt would be a struggle. I tried to liken it to the last 10k of a marathon, "when the real race begins," and that helped me for a couple of miles. Another big--HUGE--help was passing a lot of my teammates who were finishing up their own 10ks. Their cheers and chants and high-fives were a huge energy boost to get me through the first half of that race. I did manage to keep half of my miles at under 9-minute pace, and two of them at under 10-minute pace. The last mile, however, was very slow thanks to two extended walk breaks. I was bone tired! I was watching my clock, and telling myself that I could slow down or walk "this much, but no more!" The truth is, I'm a bit disappointed with my run. I think I could have pushed harder, in fact I'm almost certain of it. I could have at least walked less. But I did run the last half mile of the race, even pushing my pace to sub-8 for the final .2, and finished in 58:15.
So I hit all my goals: I finished the swim in less than an hour, the ride in less than 2, and the run in less than an hour, and the whole race in less than 4 hours. I've completed a triathlon, and set a new PR for myself. And it's about damn time.
OFFICIAL TIME: 3:39:34
Swim: 37:03
Bike: 1:55:55
Run: 58:15
YTD Race Miles: 62.2 running (88.8 including swim & bike)
YTD Total Miles: 741.2
The Big Question: Will I ever do another tri? A big part of my says probably not. Certainly not an Olympic, Half Iron Man, or Iron Man distance. But a Sprint? Never say never...
One would probably think (I certainly did) that today's race was another example of the same kind of overcompensating. A little background: I am a fair swimmer--at least, I can stay afloat and move myself forward. I'm pretty comfortable on my mountain bike (but still cautious). I am, I like to think, a decent runner. But I've never tried all three events back-to-back, let alone at Olympic Tri distances (1500m swim, 40km ride, 10km run). However, I've had "Do a triathlon" on my bucket/New Year's Resolution list for a few years now. I've told myself that I wanted to, but that scheduling or finances kept getting in the way. When I won an entry into today's race at Run Club a week and a half ago, I took it as a sign that it was time to put up or shut up. So I put up. I did two workouts a day over the last 10 days: ride/run, swim/ride, or swim/run (side note: triathlon training is a HUGE time commitment. Like, I always think I spend a lot of time training for my marathons, but that's just peanuts compared to tri training. Gives me a new appreciation for a 22-mile day). I got hold of a wetsuit, goggles, and swim cap courtesy of a couple of friends, replaced my rear bike tire which was wearing through one sidewall, and stocked up on fuel to consume during the race. I rode the bike course one day, and timed myself swimming 1500 meters another. I conferred with friends who have a lot of tri experience about what to pack for transition. I did everything I could in the limited time I had to condition and prepare. I didn't have any expectations beyond finishing in (hopefully) a respectable time and setting a new PR (because, as I always say, your first race at any distance is a PR).
First up: The swim! My practice 1500 took an hour, but that was because I gave myself plenty of rest opportunities and didn't really push too hard--although I did complete the first 500 meters in just under 14 minutes. My hope was to finish the swim between 45 and 60 minutes. I seeded myself towards the back of my pack, the better to hopefully avoid getting kicked in the face or something. I told myself just to swim to the first buoy, then the next one, then the next, and so on, at a consistent pace, and to try not to stop. I found that, even though I'd started at the back of my pack, I managed to pass more than a few of them as I went. Of course, before I'd even gotten to the halfway point, I was being passed by swimmers from the next wave, so I guess that all evens out. I even passed a swimmer in the last 100m or so who'd started two waves before me! As I ran up the beach to the first transition, I was quite pleased to hear my name and see several friends from Runner's Roost and Runner's Edge cheering for me. That gave me a nice lift. And I was even more surprised to see, when I got to my bike and looked at the clock on my Garmin, that it wasn't even 8:30! My swim started at 7:45, and it had taken me at least 3 minutes to get out of the water and up to transition and turn on my watch...that was a 40-minute swim at most!
Then it was on to the bike. I was so glad I'd taken advantage of the Runner's Edge Tri Club's course tour last week. I didn't remember it all exactly, but I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. I set off on my ride, and found myself heading up into the first mile along 51st St as the first finishers of that portion of the race were coming along in the opposite direction, in their last mile! Smiling grimly (or it might have been a smirk), I pedaled my way along the course, eating a couple Honey Stinger Waffles as I started slowly climbing up towards Old Stage Road. I did have to dismount on Old Stage--the longest steep climb of the course--and walk my bike up for about half a mile. But that was the only walk break that I took, and I pedaled the rest of the way. After summiting the hill I was quite glad to let gravity and my heavy mountain bike take over for a while and scream down the steep descent of the next couple of miles (although I did ride my brake for much of it, especially the part with the cop with the radar gun on the road. Mild moment of panic: was I going faster than 35 MPH? As it turns out, no. According to my Garmin, I topped out at 34.7 at that point). Also, I am 100% certain that I was the only racer on a mountain bike. In fact, 8 spectators and 6 racers (yes, I counted) complimented my bike! A six-year old spectator cried, "I like your bike!" Another spectator said, "First place Mountain Bike Division!" which I liked so much I've put it on my official Roost Team Race Report. And another rider, who passed me at mile 17, said, "You went up Old Stage on that? You have my respect!" If she'd've said "You're braver than I thought," I would have had a Star Wars geek moment; but as it was all I could do was smile and say "Thanks" and keep pushing, hoping to finish in under 2 hours. Which I did: according to my Garmin, my ride took exactly 1 hour and 56 minutes.
Last up: the run. I ditched my bike, helmet, and gloves, and started off on a surprisingly rolling out-and-back course. Teammates cheered for me as I started out, and I hoped that they'd still be there when I finished (they were). My goal for the 10k was twofold: to keep it under 60 minutes, and to be done before 11:45 (which would make for a 4-hour race). Seeing as how I started the run just before 10:25, the second goal would be easy. The first one, however, I felt would be a struggle. I tried to liken it to the last 10k of a marathon, "when the real race begins," and that helped me for a couple of miles. Another big--HUGE--help was passing a lot of my teammates who were finishing up their own 10ks. Their cheers and chants and high-fives were a huge energy boost to get me through the first half of that race. I did manage to keep half of my miles at under 9-minute pace, and two of them at under 10-minute pace. The last mile, however, was very slow thanks to two extended walk breaks. I was bone tired! I was watching my clock, and telling myself that I could slow down or walk "this much, but no more!" The truth is, I'm a bit disappointed with my run. I think I could have pushed harder, in fact I'm almost certain of it. I could have at least walked less. But I did run the last half mile of the race, even pushing my pace to sub-8 for the final .2, and finished in 58:15.
So I hit all my goals: I finished the swim in less than an hour, the ride in less than 2, and the run in less than an hour, and the whole race in less than 4 hours. I've completed a triathlon, and set a new PR for myself. And it's about damn time.
OFFICIAL TIME: 3:39:34
Swim: 37:03
Bike: 1:55:55
Run: 58:15
YTD Race Miles: 62.2 running (88.8 including swim & bike)
YTD Total Miles: 741.2
The Big Question: Will I ever do another tri? A big part of my says probably not. Certainly not an Olympic, Half Iron Man, or Iron Man distance. But a Sprint? Never say never...
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Arvada Father's Day 5k 2012
PRAELUDIUM
Yesterday was the first run of the Runner's Edge summer session. As always, I was excited to see so many friends before the run, and looked forward to a great summer running with them. Before starting the run, of course I worked the crowd, saying Hi to friends that I'd not seen since the end of our spring session, a few weeks ago. Instead of staying and socializing as I typically do after my run, immediately after finishing I had to jump in the car to get downtown to take care of some business. Because of this, it wasn't until much later that day that I heard the tragic news: one of my teammates, Mike Fontes, had been hit by a car on his return trip. He was taken to a hospital but did not survive the injuries. I was, of course, heartbroken to hear this. Mike was a friend, and a good man and excellent example of the kind of runner I try to be: social, friendly, supportive, always pushing himself to excel, yet humble. I decided to dedicate my run at this year's Father's Day 5k to his memory.
I was somewhat disappointed to see, upon reviewing my race results spreadsheet (you don't have one?), that I haven't set a PR in a year. Exactly a year, in fact: the last PR I set was at 2011's Father's Day 5k. And while I've had decent race times so far in 2012, none of them has been a world-beater. I had definite hopes that this race would be, that I would finally find the speed I seem to have been missing so far all this year.
It was not to be. I ran the first mile in 7:24, which would have been fine if I could have pushed myself faster for the rest of the race. But I could not. In fact, I fell apart immediately, and the second mile was 8:24. I rallied a bit in the third mile (Metallica again, "All Nightmare Long"), which I ran in 8:03; but it wasn't enough to make up for that second mile, let alone the first. At least my finishing kick was strong (of course it was, I had so much energy left).
So not my best race. Slower even than my last 5k a month ago, and that was the day after a 22-mile run! But it's okay: every race is a learning experience, and I'm going to dedicate my summer (as I should have dedicated my spring) to getting my speed back.
Official Time: 24:58
YTD Race Miles: 56
YTD Total Miles: 665
Father/Son: My dad and I both came in 14th in our respective divisions. So, there's that.
POSTLUDIUM
In the days since Michael's tragic death, I have seen dozens upon dozens of supportive posts on Facebook for his grieving families, both actual and running, from members of those groups. A memorial has appeared at the intersection where he was hit, consisting of running apparel and gear as well as letters and pictures dedicated to his memory (I myself made a small contribution earlier today). It is a small but fitting tribute for a runner and a man who touched and inspired so many of his friends. I am sorry that I did not know him better, but I feel that I have gotten to know him better through the comments I have seen from those who did know him well. He was a good man; and as someone who has also lost a parent too young, my heart and prayers are with his grieving family. Rest in Peace, Mike. Long May You Run.
Yesterday was the first run of the Runner's Edge summer session. As always, I was excited to see so many friends before the run, and looked forward to a great summer running with them. Before starting the run, of course I worked the crowd, saying Hi to friends that I'd not seen since the end of our spring session, a few weeks ago. Instead of staying and socializing as I typically do after my run, immediately after finishing I had to jump in the car to get downtown to take care of some business. Because of this, it wasn't until much later that day that I heard the tragic news: one of my teammates, Mike Fontes, had been hit by a car on his return trip. He was taken to a hospital but did not survive the injuries. I was, of course, heartbroken to hear this. Mike was a friend, and a good man and excellent example of the kind of runner I try to be: social, friendly, supportive, always pushing himself to excel, yet humble. I decided to dedicate my run at this year's Father's Day 5k to his memory.
I was somewhat disappointed to see, upon reviewing my race results spreadsheet (you don't have one?), that I haven't set a PR in a year. Exactly a year, in fact: the last PR I set was at 2011's Father's Day 5k. And while I've had decent race times so far in 2012, none of them has been a world-beater. I had definite hopes that this race would be, that I would finally find the speed I seem to have been missing so far all this year.
It was not to be. I ran the first mile in 7:24, which would have been fine if I could have pushed myself faster for the rest of the race. But I could not. In fact, I fell apart immediately, and the second mile was 8:24. I rallied a bit in the third mile (Metallica again, "All Nightmare Long"), which I ran in 8:03; but it wasn't enough to make up for that second mile, let alone the first. At least my finishing kick was strong (of course it was, I had so much energy left).
So not my best race. Slower even than my last 5k a month ago, and that was the day after a 22-mile run! But it's okay: every race is a learning experience, and I'm going to dedicate my summer (as I should have dedicated my spring) to getting my speed back.
Official Time: 24:58
YTD Race Miles: 56
YTD Total Miles: 665
Father/Son: My dad and I both came in 14th in our respective divisions. So, there's that.
POSTLUDIUM
In the days since Michael's tragic death, I have seen dozens upon dozens of supportive posts on Facebook for his grieving families, both actual and running, from members of those groups. A memorial has appeared at the intersection where he was hit, consisting of running apparel and gear as well as letters and pictures dedicated to his memory (I myself made a small contribution earlier today). It is a small but fitting tribute for a runner and a man who touched and inspired so many of his friends. I am sorry that I did not know him better, but I feel that I have gotten to know him better through the comments I have seen from those who did know him well. He was a good man; and as someone who has also lost a parent too young, my heart and prayers are with his grieving family. Rest in Peace, Mike. Long May You Run.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Casper Marathon 2012
For my first marathon since June of 2011, I chose to run 26.2 in Casper, Wyoming. Finances had a large part to play in that decision--I figured a four-hour drive and two tanks of gas would be cheaper than a flight to just about anywhere.
I'd been watching the weather reports closely and with some concern for the past few days. Temperatures for today were predicted to be in the 80s (which wouldn't happen until hopefully well after I was finished), with winds of up to 14mph (which might well happen during my race). I was mildly worried because, as I've discussed before, I don't run well in the heat. But as I've also discussed before, I run pretty well at altitude. Since Casper is essentially the same elevation as Denver, I was counting on that working in my favor.
My (embarrassing) total lack of understanding of basic geography led to what turned out to be an entirely erroneous impression of the course. In short, I thought there would be a lot of trees and a lot of shade. I could not have been more wrong. Nearly the entire course was open and exposed, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
And no wind.
My goal was to finish under 3 hours and 50 minutes. Or at least, finish faster than 3:58, which was my PR time from Steamboat exactly one year ago. That would mean setting a pretty aggressive pace; but I'd been training for that pace since January and had some really excellent long runs doing so. In fact, all 3 of my 20+-mile runs had been just stellar. So my confidence level going into the race was pretty high. Once I got going, though, it dissolved pretty quickly.
I'm happy to say that I maintained my 3:50 pace pretty well for the first 5 miles, but then started to lose it. I slowed a bit over the next 5 miles, to about 3:55 pace (obviously, those are marathon finish times, not minutes per mile). But somehow, at mile 11, I completely fell apart. I rallied a bit for the next couple of miles, but that was all I had. The second half of my race saw me walking a lot, and saw my average per mile pace slip from sub-9 to between 11 and 13, with mile 23 coming in at 14 and a half minutes.
I had a four-and-a-half hour drive back after the race to dissect, analyze, and ultimately come to peace with today's race, and during that period I decided that I just started out too fast. I'm not yet ready for a 3:50 marathon. Or at least, not one without a lot more shade. There are other things I could have done differently, or better. But, as I discussed with another runner as we were trudging along mile 23, I still finished faster than all the folks who were behind me, plus everyone who was still on the couch at home.
Official Time: 4:33:51
YTD Race Miles: 52.9
YTD Total Miles: 636.9
Herd of Antelope: Sure, I'd heard of them. But I didn't see any. Not. One.
I'd been watching the weather reports closely and with some concern for the past few days. Temperatures for today were predicted to be in the 80s (which wouldn't happen until hopefully well after I was finished), with winds of up to 14mph (which might well happen during my race). I was mildly worried because, as I've discussed before, I don't run well in the heat. But as I've also discussed before, I run pretty well at altitude. Since Casper is essentially the same elevation as Denver, I was counting on that working in my favor.
My (embarrassing) total lack of understanding of basic geography led to what turned out to be an entirely erroneous impression of the course. In short, I thought there would be a lot of trees and a lot of shade. I could not have been more wrong. Nearly the entire course was open and exposed, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
And no wind.
My goal was to finish under 3 hours and 50 minutes. Or at least, finish faster than 3:58, which was my PR time from Steamboat exactly one year ago. That would mean setting a pretty aggressive pace; but I'd been training for that pace since January and had some really excellent long runs doing so. In fact, all 3 of my 20+-mile runs had been just stellar. So my confidence level going into the race was pretty high. Once I got going, though, it dissolved pretty quickly.
I'm happy to say that I maintained my 3:50 pace pretty well for the first 5 miles, but then started to lose it. I slowed a bit over the next 5 miles, to about 3:55 pace (obviously, those are marathon finish times, not minutes per mile). But somehow, at mile 11, I completely fell apart. I rallied a bit for the next couple of miles, but that was all I had. The second half of my race saw me walking a lot, and saw my average per mile pace slip from sub-9 to between 11 and 13, with mile 23 coming in at 14 and a half minutes.
I had a four-and-a-half hour drive back after the race to dissect, analyze, and ultimately come to peace with today's race, and during that period I decided that I just started out too fast. I'm not yet ready for a 3:50 marathon. Or at least, not one without a lot more shade. There are other things I could have done differently, or better. But, as I discussed with another runner as we were trudging along mile 23, I still finished faster than all the folks who were behind me, plus everyone who was still on the couch at home.
Official Time: 4:33:51
YTD Race Miles: 52.9
YTD Total Miles: 636.9
Herd of Antelope: Sure, I'd heard of them. But I didn't see any. Not. One.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Mother's Day 5k 2012
Why do I sign up for races the day after long training runs? Two weeks ago I ran the Cherry Creek Sneak 5-mile the day after a 20-mile training run. Today I ran the Mother's Day 5k in City Park, one day after running a 22-mile training run. Why?
Actually, in one respect I think of it as not a terrible idea. It's a useful tool to help judge how I'll feel in the final miles of my marathon. I like to think of the marathon as a 20-mile run followed by a 10k. I can run 20 miles. The trick is keeping enough in reserve to then handle the 10k that follows. Yesterday, I ran 22 miles. After that, a 5k should seem like small potatoes. (In fact, as I joked to some teammates after the race, I should've gone out for a 1.1-mile cooldown.)
But the fact is, I was tired after yesterday's run (plus I had a performance of A View From the Bridge last night), and my legs were stiff this morning. My proposed two-mile warmup quickly disintegrated, as did any thoughts I had of keeping my race today under 23 minutes. But I did feel confident that I could hold an 8-minute pace for 3.1 miles.
As usual, my music mix helped propel me through the race (it's like a heavy-metal dance party in my head that I wish everyone else could hear). I ignored my tired legs as best I could for the first 2 miles, making my way slowly and steadily through the crowd. I was passed by a handful of runners (mostly young kids!), but on balance I passed more runners than passed me, which always counts as a win in my book.
Normally in a 5k, I run flat-out for the whole race, and today was no exception (although my definition of "flat-out" today was somewhat slower than I would have liked). Usually, I try to turn up my intensity in the 3rd mile. That didn't happen today, however. I didn't have enough left in me for it. Which goes a long way to explaining how I suddenly found myself alone (relatively speaking) as I started that final mile. For the first mile and a half, I'd been in the thick of a decent-sized crowd of runners. Even as we went along to the turnaround at the 2-mile mark, I had enough runners around me that I could hear their breathing and their footstrikes. But suddenly, in the last half mile, I was no longer surrounded. I think it was because all those other runners had enough left in their tanks to turn up their own speed for the last mile, which I couldn't do. Although I am happy to say that I increased my turnover (I've come to believe this is the key to getting myself faster) in the last quarter-mile, and had a very strong finish. True, it was about 3 minutes off my PR, but considering the miles I'd put in yesterday (not to mention my extracurricular activities last night), I'm quite pleased with it.
Official Time: 24:31
YTD Race Miles: 26.7
YTD Total Miles: 551.6
"Podium" Finish: I didn't tell them my age, so my division is listed as "M0-0." I came in first in my division.
Actually, in one respect I think of it as not a terrible idea. It's a useful tool to help judge how I'll feel in the final miles of my marathon. I like to think of the marathon as a 20-mile run followed by a 10k. I can run 20 miles. The trick is keeping enough in reserve to then handle the 10k that follows. Yesterday, I ran 22 miles. After that, a 5k should seem like small potatoes. (In fact, as I joked to some teammates after the race, I should've gone out for a 1.1-mile cooldown.)
But the fact is, I was tired after yesterday's run (plus I had a performance of A View From the Bridge last night), and my legs were stiff this morning. My proposed two-mile warmup quickly disintegrated, as did any thoughts I had of keeping my race today under 23 minutes. But I did feel confident that I could hold an 8-minute pace for 3.1 miles.
As usual, my music mix helped propel me through the race (it's like a heavy-metal dance party in my head that I wish everyone else could hear). I ignored my tired legs as best I could for the first 2 miles, making my way slowly and steadily through the crowd. I was passed by a handful of runners (mostly young kids!), but on balance I passed more runners than passed me, which always counts as a win in my book.
Normally in a 5k, I run flat-out for the whole race, and today was no exception (although my definition of "flat-out" today was somewhat slower than I would have liked). Usually, I try to turn up my intensity in the 3rd mile. That didn't happen today, however. I didn't have enough left in me for it. Which goes a long way to explaining how I suddenly found myself alone (relatively speaking) as I started that final mile. For the first mile and a half, I'd been in the thick of a decent-sized crowd of runners. Even as we went along to the turnaround at the 2-mile mark, I had enough runners around me that I could hear their breathing and their footstrikes. But suddenly, in the last half mile, I was no longer surrounded. I think it was because all those other runners had enough left in their tanks to turn up their own speed for the last mile, which I couldn't do. Although I am happy to say that I increased my turnover (I've come to believe this is the key to getting myself faster) in the last quarter-mile, and had a very strong finish. True, it was about 3 minutes off my PR, but considering the miles I'd put in yesterday (not to mention my extracurricular activities last night), I'm quite pleased with it.
Official Time: 24:31
YTD Race Miles: 26.7
YTD Total Miles: 551.6
"Podium" Finish: I didn't tell them my age, so my division is listed as "M0-0." I came in first in my division.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Cherry Creek Sneak 5-mile 2012
Last year, I challenged my younger sister to run the 5k race at the Sneak, while I ran the 5-mile. Whoever had a faster time would win, and the winner would buy the loser a massage. Then I found out I had a 20-mile run scheduled the day before (training for the Steamboat Marathon), so I asked her for a 2-minute handicap. Even with that, she beat me by 25 seconds. This year, we had the same setup, but with no bet. Just as well: I had a 20-mile run yesterday (training for the Casper Marathon)!
But I always seem to surprise myself. I certainly did last year, with a huge 5-mile PR. I thought this year, even if I didn't PR, I'd still probably come pretty close. Once again, the music on my iPod provided some fantastic running inspiration, as did the energy of the crowd. Not to mention the huge turnout of my fellow Runner's Roost Race Team athletes. I still have to pinch myself to be sure I'm not dreaming when I see that I'm lined up with such an impressive array of running talent.
My race started off well. I had seeded myself further back in the crowd, which I hoped would force me to keep myself from starting out too quickly and flaming out in the first mile. Anyway, that was the theory. But with shorter races, what actually tends to happen is, I expend a lot of energy weaving through the crowd, looking for openings and surging forward. Which is more or less what happened today. Still, I kept a pretty solid pace, finishing the first mile in 8:41.
I've gotten out of the habit of looking at my Garmin all the time during shorter races. However, I noticed that as I reached the first mile marker, my iPod was about halfway through song #3. So I set myself a goal of three songs per mile. Of course this is very unscientific since the length of songs varies and I have no way of controlling which songs play. For example, longtime readers will know that one of my secret weapons is Metallica's Master of Puppets, which is an 8-minute song! On the other hand, I have a few songs in my mix that are around 3 minutes long. Well, I told myself 3 songs per mile or less; if an 8-minute track came on, for example, I'd run a full mile before it ended.
This arbitrary measure seemed to work pretty well for me, and each of the next 3 miles were in fact faster than the ones before (8:37, 7:49, and 7:45 in fact). However--and this was somewhat annoying--although I saw the sign for mile 2, I did not see signs for miles 3 or 4. I also registered with some annoyance that the course ran further west along Speer Blvd, all the way to Downing, and even turned north on Downing for a good tenth of a mile before doubling back and heading towards the finish. Was the course measured too long? Of course, I hadn't realized they'd tweaked the course from last year. When I saw the finish line, I remembered that last year we'd turned north and wound our way through Cherry Creek for a few blocks before coming back out to Speer. But when I didn't see runners turning ahead of me, I realized how the course had changed. Still, even that relief wasn't enough to push my last mile any faster, and I finished in 41:54.
I'm not complaining by any means. I still had a solid race, and kept myself under 45 minutes, which was what I'd told folks was probably the best I could hope for given that I'd had such a long and busy week (and, again, 20 miles the day before!). Of course, I had great fun cheering for my fellow Roosters as they came streaking past me. My teammate Keith took second place in the 5-mile, and the top 3 female finishers were all teammates as well!
Official Time: 41:54
YTD Race Miles: 23.4
YTD Total Miles: 475.9
No Wonder I Was Tired: After yesterday's 20-mile run, by the way, I had an 8-hour rehearsal for A View From The Bridge. Show opens May 4; use discount code DT15 for $15 tickets!
But I always seem to surprise myself. I certainly did last year, with a huge 5-mile PR. I thought this year, even if I didn't PR, I'd still probably come pretty close. Once again, the music on my iPod provided some fantastic running inspiration, as did the energy of the crowd. Not to mention the huge turnout of my fellow Runner's Roost Race Team athletes. I still have to pinch myself to be sure I'm not dreaming when I see that I'm lined up with such an impressive array of running talent.
My race started off well. I had seeded myself further back in the crowd, which I hoped would force me to keep myself from starting out too quickly and flaming out in the first mile. Anyway, that was the theory. But with shorter races, what actually tends to happen is, I expend a lot of energy weaving through the crowd, looking for openings and surging forward. Which is more or less what happened today. Still, I kept a pretty solid pace, finishing the first mile in 8:41.
I've gotten out of the habit of looking at my Garmin all the time during shorter races. However, I noticed that as I reached the first mile marker, my iPod was about halfway through song #3. So I set myself a goal of three songs per mile. Of course this is very unscientific since the length of songs varies and I have no way of controlling which songs play. For example, longtime readers will know that one of my secret weapons is Metallica's Master of Puppets, which is an 8-minute song! On the other hand, I have a few songs in my mix that are around 3 minutes long. Well, I told myself 3 songs per mile or less; if an 8-minute track came on, for example, I'd run a full mile before it ended.
This arbitrary measure seemed to work pretty well for me, and each of the next 3 miles were in fact faster than the ones before (8:37, 7:49, and 7:45 in fact). However--and this was somewhat annoying--although I saw the sign for mile 2, I did not see signs for miles 3 or 4. I also registered with some annoyance that the course ran further west along Speer Blvd, all the way to Downing, and even turned north on Downing for a good tenth of a mile before doubling back and heading towards the finish. Was the course measured too long? Of course, I hadn't realized they'd tweaked the course from last year. When I saw the finish line, I remembered that last year we'd turned north and wound our way through Cherry Creek for a few blocks before coming back out to Speer. But when I didn't see runners turning ahead of me, I realized how the course had changed. Still, even that relief wasn't enough to push my last mile any faster, and I finished in 41:54.
I'm not complaining by any means. I still had a solid race, and kept myself under 45 minutes, which was what I'd told folks was probably the best I could hope for given that I'd had such a long and busy week (and, again, 20 miles the day before!). Of course, I had great fun cheering for my fellow Roosters as they came streaking past me. My teammate Keith took second place in the 5-mile, and the top 3 female finishers were all teammates as well!
Official Time: 41:54
YTD Race Miles: 23.4
YTD Total Miles: 475.9
No Wonder I Was Tired: After yesterday's 20-mile run, by the way, I had an 8-hour rehearsal for A View From The Bridge. Show opens May 4; use discount code DT15 for $15 tickets!
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Mile High Mile 2012
I hadn't originally planned on running this race. I'd been asked by my good friend Keri, who was volunteering, to help her out with registration setup; and she told me she'd see if she could swing me an entry. I'm happy to say that she was successful, and grateful to her and the race director for the opportunity.
Last year was the first year that the Mile High Mile was run at Mile High Stadium (that's right, Mile High Stadium. Only the FIELD is named Invesc--er, Sports Authority). It's cute and all, the synchronicity; but I preferred running this race when it was at the state Capitol building, because the course was flat! Now there's a hill in the second quarter mile. Obviously, it's followed by a downhill in the third quarter, but still. I like flat.
But that makes no nevermind. I was still looking forward to busting out a fast race. How fast was still open to discussion. Last year I finished in 6 minutes, 16 seconds. I didn't think I'd beat that this year. I told myself at the start that I would keep it under 7 minutes. In fact, for most of the first quarter mile, I kept my pace between 5:30 and 6:30, so I had a good strong start going into that dang uphill. I even managed to keep myself under 7-minute pace for the first part of that uphill, but then I started to slip to between 8:30 and 9:00 pace. Of course, I made up some of the difference on the downhill, pushing to around 6-minute pace.
I was feeling pretty good at this point, and even thinking that I might come pretty close to my PR from last year. Just past the three-quarter mark I decided to make my move and take advantage of the steep drop as the course entered the stadium. I poured on the speed and passed a runner whom I had been dogging since the start of the uphill. I started my loop around the outer track on the field and started to sprint. As the finish line came within sight, I saw the clock creeping towards 6:30. I reached as deep as I could and threw myself across the line in 6:28!
Official Time: 6:28
YTD Race Miles: 18.4
YTD Total Miles: 431.5
Incognito: Kylee S
Last year was the first year that the Mile High Mile was run at Mile High Stadium (that's right, Mile High Stadium. Only the FIELD is named Invesc--er, Sports Authority). It's cute and all, the synchronicity; but I preferred running this race when it was at the state Capitol building, because the course was flat! Now there's a hill in the second quarter mile. Obviously, it's followed by a downhill in the third quarter, but still. I like flat.
But that makes no nevermind. I was still looking forward to busting out a fast race. How fast was still open to discussion. Last year I finished in 6 minutes, 16 seconds. I didn't think I'd beat that this year. I told myself at the start that I would keep it under 7 minutes. In fact, for most of the first quarter mile, I kept my pace between 5:30 and 6:30, so I had a good strong start going into that dang uphill. I even managed to keep myself under 7-minute pace for the first part of that uphill, but then I started to slip to between 8:30 and 9:00 pace. Of course, I made up some of the difference on the downhill, pushing to around 6-minute pace.
I was feeling pretty good at this point, and even thinking that I might come pretty close to my PR from last year. Just past the three-quarter mark I decided to make my move and take advantage of the steep drop as the course entered the stadium. I poured on the speed and passed a runner whom I had been dogging since the start of the uphill. I started my loop around the outer track on the field and started to sprint. As the finish line came within sight, I saw the clock creeping towards 6:30. I reached as deep as I could and threw myself across the line in 6:28!
Official Time: 6:28
YTD Race Miles: 18.4
YTD Total Miles: 431.5
Incognito: Kylee S
Saturday, April 14, 2012
An Epic 20-miler
My friend Jim Lynch recently wrote a blog post entitled "Bad Training Runs are Good For You." I would never dispute his wisdom (he's run eight times as many marathons as I have, so I believe he knows his stuff). But speaking personally, I hate bad training runs. Today's 20-miler, however, was not one of them.
For the last several weeks, I've run my Saturday long runs with Runner's Edge of the Rockies' 4-hour (or 3:59:59) pace group. I dropped back from the 3:50 pace group after I just couldn't keep up with them for a goal-pace run. I told myself at the time that I just wasn't ready yet to stick with the faster group. But this morning, I decided it was time to try pushing myself again. I had 20 miles on my schedule, and I wanted to see if I could keep the faster pace for that distance.
I was successful.
I guess it helped that we were running the Highline Canal Trail today. Now normally, that's not my favorite trail for running very long distances. It's certainly easy--very flat, very soft, and with some decent shade in places. But I've gotten used to having a bit more variety in my weekly long runs, thanks to the wide variety of courses Coach David has mapped out. Uphills and downhills make for more interesting runs and, to my way of thinking, more effective training. But I think the ease of today's run was a big contributor to today's awesomeness.
Temperature was also a factor--it was nice and cool, even with a slight breeze for much of the run. Especially since we started nice and early. And, of course, the fact that I was running with my friends (at least for the first half) is always a big factor to the makings of a fantastic run.
It was also somewhat amusing to me that we started (and finished) the run in Cherry Hills Village. As I mentioned to the 3:50 pace group at our first aid station, we were running through "my Dad's neighborhood--and I mean that literally, as he was just elected Mayor of Cherry Hills Village!" It didn't occur to me until it was too late that I should have called him and told him to come down to that aid station, to greet the runners as they came by. Ah well, missed opportunities.
Anyway, back to my run. I think it was a combination of a good night's sleep, the challenge I'd set for myself of trying to keep up with the faster pace group, a solid breakfast, and the factors I mentioned above that led to me having such a fantastic run. I've reviewed my splits from today's run, and see that I stayed on pace pretty consistently throughout the whole time. I was even a good ten or 15 seconds faster on a few miles on the back half. I ran with folks from the group on the way out, but as people turned around the group got smaller and smaller until there were only 3 of us. Running with others makes it easier to stay on pace--indeed, sometimes we end up caught up in conversations and have to remind ourselves to slow down. But company definitely makes the miles go by quicker, and often feel easier.
At my turnaround point, however, I found myself alone. But I'd been feeling just fine for the first ten miles, and felt confident that I'd have no issues for the remaining ten. I still take walk breaks every mile, as I have done for my last seven marathons, although now I've shortened them to 0.05 miles (between 30 and 40 seconds). So I walked a bit, then ran at what felt like a comfortable pace for me. I didn't watchdog my Garmin, to make sure I was staying on pace; I just ran what felt right. When my watch would beep at me every mile, I was gratified to see that I was staying more or less on pace. In fact, my Garmin records that miles 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19 were all faster than 9 minute pace. And I wasn't feeling tired, or sore, or hungry, or dehydrated, or dizzy (I'd been struck by a very odd dizzy spell at the very start of a 16-mile run a few weeks back, which I attributed to poor breakfasting that morning). In short, for 19 miles (and especially starting at mile 15), I felt like a rock star.
The last mile, however, was less than fantastic. My right hamstring, which up until that time, had been just fine thank you very much, started to cramp up on me. It forced me to slow down, and I even threw in short walk breaks every quarter mile. Actually that's the second long run where my hammy has acted up towards the end. I've made an appointment for a massage tomorrow that I hope will clear up whatever the heck is going on there.
As I said at the start, I don't like "bad" training runs. Nothing makes me happier than having a really solid workout. And a really great 20-miler is just one of the best things that can happen.
For the last several weeks, I've run my Saturday long runs with Runner's Edge of the Rockies' 4-hour (or 3:59:59) pace group. I dropped back from the 3:50 pace group after I just couldn't keep up with them for a goal-pace run. I told myself at the time that I just wasn't ready yet to stick with the faster group. But this morning, I decided it was time to try pushing myself again. I had 20 miles on my schedule, and I wanted to see if I could keep the faster pace for that distance.
I was successful.
I guess it helped that we were running the Highline Canal Trail today. Now normally, that's not my favorite trail for running very long distances. It's certainly easy--very flat, very soft, and with some decent shade in places. But I've gotten used to having a bit more variety in my weekly long runs, thanks to the wide variety of courses Coach David has mapped out. Uphills and downhills make for more interesting runs and, to my way of thinking, more effective training. But I think the ease of today's run was a big contributor to today's awesomeness.
Temperature was also a factor--it was nice and cool, even with a slight breeze for much of the run. Especially since we started nice and early. And, of course, the fact that I was running with my friends (at least for the first half) is always a big factor to the makings of a fantastic run.
It was also somewhat amusing to me that we started (and finished) the run in Cherry Hills Village. As I mentioned to the 3:50 pace group at our first aid station, we were running through "my Dad's neighborhood--and I mean that literally, as he was just elected Mayor of Cherry Hills Village!" It didn't occur to me until it was too late that I should have called him and told him to come down to that aid station, to greet the runners as they came by. Ah well, missed opportunities.
Anyway, back to my run. I think it was a combination of a good night's sleep, the challenge I'd set for myself of trying to keep up with the faster pace group, a solid breakfast, and the factors I mentioned above that led to me having such a fantastic run. I've reviewed my splits from today's run, and see that I stayed on pace pretty consistently throughout the whole time. I was even a good ten or 15 seconds faster on a few miles on the back half. I ran with folks from the group on the way out, but as people turned around the group got smaller and smaller until there were only 3 of us. Running with others makes it easier to stay on pace--indeed, sometimes we end up caught up in conversations and have to remind ourselves to slow down. But company definitely makes the miles go by quicker, and often feel easier.
At my turnaround point, however, I found myself alone. But I'd been feeling just fine for the first ten miles, and felt confident that I'd have no issues for the remaining ten. I still take walk breaks every mile, as I have done for my last seven marathons, although now I've shortened them to 0.05 miles (between 30 and 40 seconds). So I walked a bit, then ran at what felt like a comfortable pace for me. I didn't watchdog my Garmin, to make sure I was staying on pace; I just ran what felt right. When my watch would beep at me every mile, I was gratified to see that I was staying more or less on pace. In fact, my Garmin records that miles 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19 were all faster than 9 minute pace. And I wasn't feeling tired, or sore, or hungry, or dehydrated, or dizzy (I'd been struck by a very odd dizzy spell at the very start of a 16-mile run a few weeks back, which I attributed to poor breakfasting that morning). In short, for 19 miles (and especially starting at mile 15), I felt like a rock star.
The last mile, however, was less than fantastic. My right hamstring, which up until that time, had been just fine thank you very much, started to cramp up on me. It forced me to slow down, and I even threw in short walk breaks every quarter mile. Actually that's the second long run where my hammy has acted up towards the end. I've made an appointment for a massage tomorrow that I hope will clear up whatever the heck is going on there.
As I said at the start, I don't like "bad" training runs. Nothing makes me happier than having a really solid workout. And a really great 20-miler is just one of the best things that can happen.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Runnin of the Green Lucky 7k 2012
Every year I tell myself I remember how difficult this race is, and every year it still manages to kick my butt.
I will admit, I've had some difficulty finding my speed this year. I've run two races (granted, a week apart, which was probably not the smartest plan of action), and while I managed to hit my goals both times, I had to fight for every minute. Just under 2 hours for a half marathon, and just under 90 minutes for a 10-miler. I'm happy with those times, but each was 10 minutes slower than my PRs at those distances. However, I had high hopes that I'd be able to turn in a fast 7k race--at least, run at a faster pace than I had for the half marathon or the 10-miler. After all, this was a much shorter distance, right?
My goal was to keep myself at an 8-minute pace. This would be a full minute per mile faster than either race I'd yet run this year, a not-impossible goal I thought for 4.3 miles. And my first mile was that fast--8:01. But my second mile, which is all uphill, was 8:43. So much for my time goal. I made up a bit of time on mile 3, though. At 7:47, that was my fastest mile (once again, this was a "Metallica Mile" as my iPod played "All Nightmare Long at this crucial juncture). Mile 4, however, at 8:49, was my slowest full mile (sadly, the final .3 miles were my slowest of the entire race, run at 9:10 pace).
So, in the end, what was supposed to be an 8-minute average pace slowed to 8:25. Again, not terrible: still more than 30 seconds per mile faster than either the Ralston Creek Half or the Snowman Stampede 10. But, again, this race was much shorter than either of those. I'm not thrilled with it for that reason. I know I'm faster than I have been this year. I need to figure out where my speed is.
But enough about me. This race was exciting because it was the first race for the 2012 Runner's Roost Racing Team, of which once again I am humbled and honored to be a member. With close to 60 of us toeing the line, it was hard not to feel motivated and inspired to run fast. HUGE congratulations are due to everyone on the team who ran, especially Keith Solverson who took home the win. The new uniforms by Nike look great, too!
Next up for me is...well, I don't have an answer for that yet. Theoretically my next race is the Casper Wyoming marathon on June 3 (although I have yet to sign up for it, I've made my hotel reservation and arranged to have an understudy for one night of The Edge Theatre's "A View From the Bridge"). I'm sure I'll find a shorter distance race between now and then, but I don't know what it may be.
Official Time: 37:04
YTD Race Miles: 17.4
YTD Total Miles: 249.3
Olympic Quality: The first female finisher was none other than the 2008 Olympic Women's Marathon gold medalist, Constantina Dita!
I will admit, I've had some difficulty finding my speed this year. I've run two races (granted, a week apart, which was probably not the smartest plan of action), and while I managed to hit my goals both times, I had to fight for every minute. Just under 2 hours for a half marathon, and just under 90 minutes for a 10-miler. I'm happy with those times, but each was 10 minutes slower than my PRs at those distances. However, I had high hopes that I'd be able to turn in a fast 7k race--at least, run at a faster pace than I had for the half marathon or the 10-miler. After all, this was a much shorter distance, right?
My goal was to keep myself at an 8-minute pace. This would be a full minute per mile faster than either race I'd yet run this year, a not-impossible goal I thought for 4.3 miles. And my first mile was that fast--8:01. But my second mile, which is all uphill, was 8:43. So much for my time goal. I made up a bit of time on mile 3, though. At 7:47, that was my fastest mile (once again, this was a "Metallica Mile" as my iPod played "All Nightmare Long at this crucial juncture). Mile 4, however, at 8:49, was my slowest full mile (sadly, the final .3 miles were my slowest of the entire race, run at 9:10 pace).
So, in the end, what was supposed to be an 8-minute average pace slowed to 8:25. Again, not terrible: still more than 30 seconds per mile faster than either the Ralston Creek Half or the Snowman Stampede 10. But, again, this race was much shorter than either of those. I'm not thrilled with it for that reason. I know I'm faster than I have been this year. I need to figure out where my speed is.
But enough about me. This race was exciting because it was the first race for the 2012 Runner's Roost Racing Team, of which once again I am humbled and honored to be a member. With close to 60 of us toeing the line, it was hard not to feel motivated and inspired to run fast. HUGE congratulations are due to everyone on the team who ran, especially Keith Solverson who took home the win. The new uniforms by Nike look great, too!
Next up for me is...well, I don't have an answer for that yet. Theoretically my next race is the Casper Wyoming marathon on June 3 (although I have yet to sign up for it, I've made my hotel reservation and arranged to have an understudy for one night of The Edge Theatre's "A View From the Bridge"). I'm sure I'll find a shorter distance race between now and then, but I don't know what it may be.
Official Time: 37:04
YTD Race Miles: 17.4
YTD Total Miles: 249.3
Olympic Quality: The first female finisher was none other than the 2008 Olympic Women's Marathon gold medalist, Constantina Dita!
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Ralston Creek Half Marathon 2012
So here we are, seven weeks into the new year, and I'm running a half marathon. I haven't run a race since mid-October of last year. In fact, between that race and December 31st, I hadn't run a step--gave myself an 11-week hiatus as a physical and mental break. (Not that I was completely sedentary during my hiatus: every day I would either ride my bike, go for a swim, do some yoga, or lift weights. Just no running.) But I've been running consistently since January 1, and training for this race since January 10. A good number of my friends and teammates from both Runner's Edge and Runner's Roost are doing this race as well. My goal for the race was to keep it under 2 hours, and I felt pretty confident that I'd be able to do so. After all, four of my last five half marathon races were under 2 hours. So a sub-two finish was, to me, more or less a foregone conclusion. Pride, as they say, goeth before the fall.
I started the race with a classic rookie mistake: going out too fast. I was caught up in the excitement of the moment: the energy from the other runners combined with my eagerness at running my first race in four months. My first mile was 8:32. It didn't feel like I was racing, though. I knew I was running fast, but I felt like I had my speed under control. Still, I told myself I'd reign it in, because I still had 12.1 to go. This I completely failed to do. My second mile was 8:13. Part of that I blame on my music. I'd spent the past few weeks uploading some new tunes to my iPod; turns out they're quite effective for inspiring me to move fast.
I did manage to slow myself down for the next few miles, keeping my average pace closer to 9 minutes. I was still feeling pretty comfortable, too. Then, on mile 6, I hit the first appreciable climb on the course. As I pulled my way up the hill, I was assisted by Joey Ramone's punkish cover of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World." The course then turned into the Blunn Reservoir, and a brief downhill provided a nice respite after the half mile long hill. Until I looked up, that is.
As the course turned north and crossed over a small bridge, I looked to see what lay ahead. To my annoyance and shock, I saw runners traversing up a steep incline with plenty of switchbacks. This, then, was the big climb. For a brief moment I was very discouraged. There was no way, I told myself, I'd be able to get up that hill at my current pace (8:56). But I tried to banish those negative thoughts quickly.
Just past the start of the climb was an aid station. I took advantage of this to give myself a short walk break as I drank some water, and called up my mental reserves to push myself up the hill. I glanced behind me and saw a friend, whom I had left behind at the very start of the race, about 50 meters behind me. Just then "You're Going Down" by Sick Puppies started playing. I'm not ashamed to admit that I used the lyrics of the song (about a guy beating another guy in a fight) to push myself up the hill, determined not to let my friend catch up to me. Then, after Sick Puppies, I heard the great jazz trumpeter Al Hirt's version of the Green Hornet theme. This high-energy piece gave my legs new energy, and I sped up my footstrike to keep time with the music until I crested the top of the hill.
Mile 8 was my slowest mile--it took me just uner 10 minutes to make that climb! Fortunately, what goes up tends to have to come down, and mile 9 was just what I needed: a steep, speedy downhill that let me more than make up the lost time. In fact, mile 9 was one of my fastest miles. But then I started to slow down. I was running out of energy, and the miles seemed long to me. Even my standard "Only 5k left! Anyone can run a 5k!" motivational outcry did little to help me run faster. I finished mile 10 and glanced at my watch: I'd been running for an hour and a half. I knew that I could afford to slow down to just faster than 10-minute miles and still meet my goal of a sub-2 hour race. Actually I took a great deal of comfort from that realization, because I was getting tired. But as I ran through mile 11, and felt myself slowing down, I realized I'd have to fight to hang on for every second. I didn't look at my watch, because I didn't want to see what I was sure was happening: my time goal slipping away.
Then I heard Metallica. Regular readers will know that Metallica is sometimes a secret weapon with me: All Nightmare Long and Master of Puppets have gotten me through some quick miles in some earlier races. The song I heard now wasn't 8 minutes long, but the driving beat would, I thought, still help me push my pace. I was wrong. I couldn't get myself to run any faster, even when a second Metallica song miraculously played after the first. (My iPod is on shuffle, but somehow it has a knack for knowing what I need to hear, when I need to hear it.)
With what I estimated to be somewhere between a half mile and a quarter mile left in the race, I risked a glance at my Garmin. My time had just turned over 1 hour 55 minutes, so I had less than 5 minutes to get to the finish line. My spirits, which had been sagging at that point, suddenly lifted. I couldn't make myself run any faster, I believed, but suddenly I was no longer dead tired. I saw the finish line clock climbing inexorably towards 1:58:30 and pushed as hard as I could, crossing the finish line in 1:58:34.
In retrospect, I don't know that I deserved to finish under 2 hours as I did (even though it was a bit of a squeaker). I started out way too fast and did not adequately prepare myself for that giganimous hill in the middle. But, as I observed later, if the course had been flatter, I probably would have been able to set a new PR.
Official Time:1:58:34
YTD Race Miles: 13.1
YTD Total Miles: 176
Not Even Close: The fastest time in my division was 1:17:05. I came in 20th out of 37.
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