This past weekend was the Rock-n-Roll USA half marathon. As
in past years, I took it as the last hard workout before the marathon. With a
warmup (four miles to the start) and cooldown (three miles afterwards), it gave
me 20 miles for the day and acted as a glorified
marathon pace run. Since it was a race, with all the added adrenaline and competition, I expected
to be able to go a bit faster than marathon pace, but since I had only eased up
on running ever so slightly in the few days before, it wasn’t as fast as an
all-out half marathon effort would be.
But, of course, I still had high expectations. There are
always goals to be reached for, and motivations to get there. I have a side
goal of running a 1:22 half because that would get me free entry into
Rock-n-Roll events. A 1:22 seemed ridiculous (6:15 pace, a.k.a. the pace I ran
for
the 8k, but 2.5 times farther.) I decided starting in the 6:30s for the
first few miles and then trying to hit 6:20s for the last few miles would be nice and reasonable, and
average out to a decent pace in the mid-6:20s. Then I decided I’d shoot for a
1:23 (and maybe end up with a 1:22:59, would that count for free entry?) Except
a 1:23 is a 6:20 pace for
every mile,
not just for the last few miles as my realistic plan had. Didn’t matter, 1:23 or
bust.
There are a multitude of emotions you go through in a race,
but mostly it’s back and forth between:
1.) “This. Is. Awesome.” This is how you feel running across
the Verrazano Bridge while Frank Sinatra sings “New York, New York” at the
start of the NYC marathon. This is running through the wall of sound that is
Wellesley College in the Boston Marathon. (Male or female, I don’t care, that
thing gives you chills.) This is when your legs can’t move and you’re hunched
over trying not to puke but you just ran a PR and so you don’t care if your
legs don’t move for the rest of your life.
2.) “I.Am.Never.Doing.This.Again.” This is mile 15 of NYC,
when the dark solitude of the Queensboro Bridge sets in and it just will not
stop going up. This is the Newton hills, when you know Heartbreak still
looms. This is the feeling that comes somewhere between the first few miles and
the finish, when you are cursing yourself and thinking “why the @$%# did I do
this to myself? I hate this. I want to stop right now, lay down in the middle
of the road, and never run again.”
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A gorgeous DC morning. |
Most of the time, especially in marathons, there’s a little
bit of both. Some unfortunate races have more of the latter, and there’s no
telling why (I was ready to give up racing in the middle of
last week’s 8k.)
But hopefully the moments of pure running elation sandwich those rough patches.
The beginning of the RnR USA half was definitely the former. It was a gorgeous
day, the course was beautiful, the bands were rocking. I was loving it. And I was
running way too fast.
At first, I thought, “Well that’s okay, I’m just going to
have an awesome day and a huge PR!” Even when the 5k split came, and was way
too fast, I paid it no mind. Then the steady uphill from mile 4.5 to 7 came. I
tried to maintain an even effort, knowing that I was slowing down, and I didn’t freak out over the pace. Even when
the 10k split came. For some reason, a little after that split, I got it in my
head that although I had run the first 5k in sub 20 minutes, I had run the 10k
in 48 minutes. This would mean for the second 5k I slowed to a 9 minute pace.
This was not reality. But somehow, I confused myself and thought it was. I
remember worrying that my Dad (who was following my splits at home) would see
that and get worried that I had drastically slowed down. I remember thinking
I’ll just have to explain to him about the hills. I’ll be okay, I’ll make up
for this time on the downhills, I thought.
This is a prime example of how mid-race mind games can be
good or bad. For one thing (the good thing), I didn’t freak out when my splits
slowed. I remained calm, knew it wasn’t the end of the world, and kept going
with my race strategy. Even though I was under the impression I had slowed from
a 6:20 mile pace to a 9:00 mile pace, which is really not okay to do in a race
and certainly won’t be fixed by a few downhills. The bad thing, is of course,
that I had pulled the whole thing out of thin air and was completely not within
reality.
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Feeling good. |
The good news is, by mile 8, the race completely turned
around. I figured out/half remembered that I had actually run the 10k in just
over 40 minutes and came out of my weird trance. I also saw my sister who came
out to spectate, and a woman told me I was in 10
th place. (To the
people who diligently count places: thank you!! You have no idea how much that
helps and how motivating it is.) 10
th place!? I thought she was out
of her mind. But there were two women right in front of me and now they were on
my radar. I figured even if the spectator miscounted, one of these women must
be near 10
th place and all of a sudden all I wanted was a top ten
finish.
I passed #9 right away and #8 by mile 9. I was in 8th place with no women in sight. I just tried to maintain my position. Somehow I
find it incredibly difficult to concentrate both on time and competition, and
so my diligence to my timing slipped away. I started just focusing on how far
off I was from my 6:20 goal. I realized I was a minute slower and just tried to
maintain that, and not slow down anymore.
With about one mile to go, I saw another woman in front of
me. I knew she must be slowing down so I set my sights on her. Slowly but
surely, I reeled her in, feeling alright for the end of a race. (Although I
didn’t realize it, I was actually slowing down too, as mile 12 was my third
slowest mile. Apparently it is also uphill, although not as bad as the others.
I find it strange I didn’t notice it, or the fact that I slowed. I really was
all about catching this woman.)
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Finishing strong. |
With about 400 meters to go, I was right on her tail. I was
scared to pass her because I had a feeling she would just pick it up and kick
right by me. I don’t have much skill sprinting and figured I’d lose that
battle. Coming around the final turn, a man told us we were 6
th and
7
th place (not 8
th!) and I almost let her go. I almost
convinced myself I had nothing left and couldn’t pass her. But then I realized
what the hell, I need to try, and I sprinted my mind out and flew on by,
finishing in 6
th place, in a new PR of 1:24:17 (realizing I probably
should have started sprinting earlier and not doubt myself.)
My initial reaction was proud of my place in the field (of
10,700 women) but pissed with my time. It was a PR of over 3 minutes, but not
what I wanted. After more time to process it, I’m not so disappointed.
Realistically, I thought somewhere in the 6:20s would be good and I managed a
6:26 pace. In the last few weeks, my confidence has been waning, with fears of
the hills of Charlottesville and some subpar workouts on nights of little
sleep. Going into this race, I wasn’t sure I’d come away happy with it at all,
and a PR and a top ten finish have to be a confidence booster. The hard
workouts are over. Now it’s taper time!
Rusty also ran the half, got a big PR, and still came
away a little disappointed. I take the blame for that, since I also encouraged him to
have high hopes and set big goals. But I have to say I think it’s better to set
big goals and come away with a little disappointment, longing for more. One of
my favorite quotes is from Theodore Roosevelt: It’s better to dare mighty
things and fail, then to live in a gray twilight where there is neither victory
nor defeat.
Dream big,
Teal