Race Report: 2018 Cherry Blossom

Photo Credit: RunWashington

Three weeks ago, while I was wallowing in my disappointing workout, I got an email from the Cherry Blossom Ten Mile race saying I qualified for the elite women’s start, which would take off 12 minutes before the men and the rest of the field. The email—which I almost deleted without reading it, whoops—immediately lifted my spirits. It was an opportunity to be treated like a star, and even though I would get my butt kicked by the actual stars I knew I wanted to do it.

But I wasn’t sure if it was a bad idea; I’d likely be dropped in the first ten meters, was it worth being stuck in no woman’s land for 10 miles just to feel special? So I asked Friend of the Blog/Neon Angel Kerry, who’s run it a couple of times, if it was dumb to start with the elites, only to feel elite, when I was surely going to be dropped immediately. But she assured me that was exactly why you do it, that we deserve the special opportunity, and if I was in sub-60 shape I should go for it.

Breaking 60 minutes was my goal, but I hadn’t yet said it out loud and as I typed it back to Kerry, it became real: Oh, geez you really think you can break 60? That’s crazy.

At the beginning of the season, I thought this was one of the races I could go for a PR, but that seemed less and less likely lately. I figured a 10K PR was much more in reach, as my 10K PR (37:08, or 5:58 pace, from the first part of a half marathon) is actually a slower pace than my 10 mile PR (59:24, or 5:56 pace). (Which is why I remain super bummed to skip the opportunity to race a 10K.)

In the week before the race, I tried to wrap my mind around why, even if a 10 mile PR was a bit ambitious, sub-60 wasn’t totally crazy. I wrote down my rationale: I ran sub-60 pace at Cherry Blossom in 2015 and I’ve run some* faster workouts and a faster half marathon this season. (*It’s never ALL. Some workouts are faster, some are slower, and a lot comes down to which you focus on. I actively try to focus on the faster/glass half full ones.) As my confidence grew, the possibility snuck in of maybe—on a perfect day, if I feel unexpectedly amazing—maybe, just maybe going for a PR.

And I let the deadline for opting out of the elite start quietly pass.

Race morning was cold and there were about 40 other women freezing their buns off in the advanced start, all of whom looked intimidating. But I talked to one who had a similar goal—start at 6:00 pace—so that made me feel a bit better. I wouldn’t be totally alone from the gun.

Within the first quarter mile, two packs formed: the lead pack, trailing the press truck and motorcycles, and a “chase pack” of five or six women, including myself. I laughed to myself when my internal monologue called us a chase pack, as if the race was televised and the commentators had any reason to refer to us. Which of course they wouldn’t have, because we weren’t so much chasing the leaders as a self-selected group of women who clearly all had the nice round goal of 60 minutes on our minds. I was psyched that, not only was I not alone, there were a couple of women with the same idea. At a turn around near mile 2, we broke up a bit, but I stuck by Rochelle Basil, who had seemed to be in control of our little pack. 

At three miles we were exactly on 60-minute pace, but I fell back a little from Rochelle. I didn’t want to lose contact too soon as I worried that might lead to me giving up a bit and falling off the pace, so I was glad when I was able to reel her back in. As I pulled back alongside her, I began to feel better and around mile 5 ended up passing her.

Photo Credit: RunWashington

As we ran back down Independence, the sun was in my eyes and I could barely see in front of me, but as we turned to head south along the Tidal Basin I finally spotted another ponytail ahead. She was far off but I sensed I could catch her so I focused on her and just kept churning. I was feeling good and the next few miles were sub-six minutes. Maybe I could PR after all?! Around the 10K, I thought, Hmm maybe this is where I get my 10K PR… and I may have sped up a hair for a few strides to hit the 10K timing mat three seconds faster than my old PR.

Mile 7 was a 5:48 and I was flying high. I am going to PR! I suspected I might be running fast because the wind was at our backs, and things might drastically change when we rounded the tip of Hains Point and started heading north, but I was actively repelling all negativity so I didn’t dwell on it. Instead I focused on how good I felt and how much I was surprising myself. I’m in better shape than I thought!

Somewhere in this stretch I caught the woman ahead of me and started focusing on the next one, which was Susanna Sullivan, one of the top runners in the region. Could I catch Susanna Sullivan?! She must be coming back from something. (I later read that link and yes, she is.) I couldn’t really believe I was just behind her, but she was the next ponytail so catching her was my new focus.

As we rounded the turn at the bottom of Hains Point, reality set in a bit. The wind was in our faces, but I was willing myself to stay positive. By mile 8, I had averaged 5:56 pace and I just needed to keep that up for two more miles to PR. I had figured any chance of a PR would mean wildly picking it up at the end, but I didn’t need to do anything too crazy, just maintain. I kept my sights on Sullivan.

But my ninth mile was 6:01. Just like last time, I was unraveling a bit and it was clear the wind had been helping and was now actively hurting. Okay, well now I do need to kick it in a little harder. One more mile, pick it up. But I couldn’t, or I wasn’t anyway. There were signs for 1200 meters to go, (C’mon, GO!), 800 meters (GO GO GO!), and, while I felt like my effort was increasing, I wasn’t sure I was going any faster. I seemed to have nothing. The men had started passing me around mile 9 and they were flying by. Beforehand, I had wondered what effect that would have: if getting passed by someone at essentially an all-out sprint would (a) encourage me to pick it up or (b) crush my spirits, but it was actually (c) no effect whatsoever. The finish line being so close also had no effect. The last mile, often my fastest, was the slowest of the day.

So I did not PR. I lost it in those last two miles and finished ten seconds over. It was incredibly frustrating because I came so close and I really thought I had it. I keep missing my big goals by a hair (sub-2:50 in November’s marathon by 20 seconds, sub-1:20 in March’s half by 27 seconds) and I absolutely cannot miss my next big goal by a hair: ten seconds, twenty seconds, whatever. But on the other hand, only in my really optimistic moments did I think a PR was possible at this race. My PR came from the spring of 2015, when I felt fit and fast, fresh off qualifying for 2016 Trials, and with the added motivation to beat my brother. This time I surprised myself a bit, especially with how good I felt in the middle miles while knocking off sub-6 minute miles. (Yea, the wind may have helped, but shhh!)

Even though I was alone for the second half of the race, I have zero regrets about doing the advanced start. Being in the elite start reminded me that I really want to be in more elite starts, to deserve to be there, and to be mixing it up more with the top locals and top Americans. I want to be able to hang with the Susanna Sullivans and not just when they are coming back from something.

I needed that reminder, because it's time for me to stop making excuses or doubting myself because I’m coming back from something, namely having a Baby. A month or so ago, Husband asked if I was still using Baby as an excuse. He was just curious: did I feel like I still was being held back a bit/recovering from pregnancy? I said no. That was my excuse last season, but this season I'm back to running times and doing workouts that are pretty close to my old self, even my old self at her best. And I’m sick of putting an asterisk on things, “This is the best I’ve run since Baby.” (Please note: every woman is going to have a different timeline and road back, this is just my own personal experience and I realize I’m lucky to be where I’m at. But every woman should feel totally comfortable with taking it at whatever pace she wants or needs to!)

But… sometimes I do doubt myself and think, Well, I just had a Baby, I don’t deserve to start with the elites/there’s no way I can run that fast/a PR is out of the question. During the race, I was thrilled at the idea of PRing because that would prove (to myself more than anyone) that I am faster than ever, not just the fastest I’ve been postpartum. Well... not quite yet.

Although I did technically get that 10K PR, so at least there's that.

Dream big,
Teal

Race Report Two-for-One Deal: Philadelphia Half and Turkey Trot

An unexpected holiday savings for you: two race reports for the price of one!

Two weeks ago, I ran the Philadelphia Half Marathon. I knew I wasn’t in shape to PR, but I was excited to get back into the world of racing and see what I could do. Four days later, I ran a Turkey Trot 10K. Again, I knew it wouldn’t be a PR, but I love holiday-themed races, and it’s hard to turn down a Turkey Trot.

The Philadelphia Half Marathon, mile 6. 

At the half, I just tried to run by feel and see what happened. I hoped to start on the slower side, but the first mile was a bit fast and then the second mile marker was way off. (Thanks to the runner near me who warned us not to freak out over the ridiculously slow split!) By mile three, I realized I was staying pretty steady and feeling comfortable. Awesome.

I still felt great for the next couple miles and I had approximately 8,500 friends and family members out cheering. Mile 6 was a major cheer zone and basically every block someone was screaming my name. (Everyone’s name was on their bibs, so that also helped.) I remember thinking that this is what L.A. will be like; I have a ridiculous amount of people coming to support me there, and on a looped course, it seems like I’ll have people cheering for me every quarter mile. L.A.’s going to be even crazier than this, and this is nuts.

By mile 7, the crowds thinned and the hills started. At every mile I thought, Well, that mile had some uphill. Don’t look at the time; it will be discouraging. So I just ignored my watch and ran by feel. Keep the effort steady.

The wind was another force of discouragement. Along the river, the mile three marker had blown over and onto the runner in front of me. Weaving through the city, the buildings would block the wind momentarily, but then at each intersection it would come barreling back at you.

After mile 7 or so, as we headed out of downtown, it seemed to get worse, or maybe I was just tired of it. I tried to draft off people, but I am really terrible at drafting. I know! I’ll use this opportunity as practice! Here we go, tuck in behind this guy… Wait, that’s not helping. Maybe at this angle? No… It wasn’t a very successful mission in that regard, and every so often I gave up to focus again on just running my own pace. By mile 9, I realized I had slowed considerably.

But just as I felt like I was getting my rhythm back, the last hill hit. And I fell apart. The pace pack going for the Trials standard caught me; I could hear the many footsteps of the swarm coming and then the pace leader encouraging them up and over the hill. Remember the awesome time I had a pacer? Maybe I could borrow some encouragement from this one. I can at least draft in a pack! I tried to tuck in. But they swallowed me up and spit me out instantly.

And then the demons started talking. These women were running twice as far as me, at a pace I used to be able to sustain. (In what seemed like another lifetime.) Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I’m not in shape yet, whatever. It was a world of discouragement anyway. Maybe I’m not as fast as I think… My mile ten split was ridiculously slow, eerily close to the way-too-long mile two split.

Was it the hills? Was I running too comfortably? This is a race after all. It’s supposed to get uncomfortable in the middle miles. As we ran back along the Schuylkill, the course flattened, the wind was mercifully at our backs, and I picked it up. I just needed to keep grinding to the finish, almost there…

Mile 12. 

In the last mile, a girl nearby tried to encourage me to run it in with her, “Let’s finish this thing!” I couldn’t. All of me tightened up simultaneously. I felt like I was trying to run the day after a marathon, all stiffness and Tin Man-like joints. I wanted to sprint it in, to prove that I could run fast, even if just for a closing spurt, but I barely managed much of anything.

I finished in 1:21:49. The time is faster than the half marathons I opened the last two seasons with, so it seems like I’m starting in a good place. That’s encouraging.

But I was also pretty disappointed with the middle miles. I feel like I lost a bit of the toughness that racing requires and I just gave up on myself. I think that’s part of the point of these early races though, to get that reminder, to build back up the racing muscle. Lesson learned, right?

Wrong. Four days later I ran a Turkey Trot at the University of Richmond, my alma mater. I knew four days was not enough recovery time, but I had called Sunday’s half a “hard workout” so that’s what this would be, too. I had run the course a couple years ago and knew it was crazy hilly so I wasn’t going to worry about my time. But I had finished second back then, and this year, I wanted to win. I thought it was possible, even despite the quick turnaround and the taking-it-as-a-hard-workout approach.

It wasn’t a ridiculous thought, for about 5.5 miles of the 6.2 mile race, I was winning.

I felt pretty good the first two miles or so, but the chick in second place was looming. The spectators’ cheers were the only way I had any idea where she was, either they cheered for the first woman or they cheered for the ladies in front. Hmm. At one point someone told me I had 15 yards on her. Right, not much. (By the way, the spectators and volunteers at this little holiday race were incredible. Thanks, Richmond!)

Early on, with my pursuer just behind.

I kept hoping I’d drop her on some hill (That time they only cheered for me! She must be gone!), but she never budged. (Nope, these people are cheering for both of us...)

At a turnaround at mile 5, I had the chance to confirm her proximity. I tried to pick it up, but on the last uphill around mile 5.5 she caught and passed me. Just after the top of the hill, I caught back up to her and we ran side by side down towards the finish. I thought I could sense her faltering or getting tired (I think I can outsprint her…), but just past the six-mile mark she took off and I was left outsprinted. She crushed me in those last few meters; I had nothing.

Outkicked. Trying to tell
my stupid legs to MOVE.

And I was way more upset than I thought I would be. I wasn’t supposed to have had expectations for this race, I had just had a hard workout, this was a fun holiday jaunt, blah blah blah. Instead I was super bummed I lost the way I did, right at the stinking end. It was another race where I really wished I could re-run it and find some extra gear or motivation. And the time was disappointing, too. I knew better than to expect a fast time, but it wasn’t too much faster than what I had run there three years ago, and I’ve come a long way as a runner since then. But I didn’t show it.

In the end, I’m sure I got what I needed physically: two hard workouts to help get me back into shape. Psychologically they were tough, but that was important practice, too—to remember how to race, to not give up, to find another gear at the end. There’s more to do to build back up my racing grit, but I’m working on it.

Dream big,

Teal

Quarters, Cramps, and Cross Country

This season’s focus has been on Clubs Cross Country, which is a 6k race, i.e. way too short for me. As the season has progressed, the workouts and races have gotten more and more out of my comfort zone. As you’ll see below, my stomach and mind have been protesting.

A few weeks ago, we did a quarters workout. Doing a billion quarter repeats is the classic toughening workout. Run one lap fast, jog for a short rest, run another lap fast, short rest. Repeat, repeat, repeat. At some point, take a longer rest (between “sets”) and then get back to cranking out 400s. In high school, I remember doing ten quarters on the second day of practice, to weed out any slackers not willing to put in the work. But looking back on it, that workout seems way too hard for day two of high school track (at least on my team), so maybe my mind has warped it. In the book Once a Runner the protagonist does (spoiler alert!) 60 quarters, which leads to all sorts of post-workout unpleasantries, not to mention complete wonderment and awe from all the readers.

Our workout called for 16 quarters (not 60, but still.) We got one minute between each, and after four, we got four minutes until the next set. Needless to say, this was not in my wheelhouse. As per usual, I lined up towards the back, but this backfired when we decided to go one by one down the line for pacing duties; being at the back had me pacing one of the faster quarters. Whoops. So for the first ten quarters, I worried if I’d be able to lead this group at a pace that is the fastest I’ve run 400s since I was 16. When my turn came, I managed it alright, and just like that the pressure was off and I was back to my place at the end of the line. On the very next quarter, I died. Cramped up and fell completely back. I’m not sure if it was because I had just been hanging on for dear life until I did my duty, but after that I bombed. We got another long break before the last set, which helped quell my cramps and I was back with the pack on the 13th, but then again cramped and fell way back on the 14th. With my stomach revolting, my legs refused to go any faster (and my stomach, not my legs, would be sore for 2 days after.) Coach said it was fine to call it at 14; after all, it was a pretty good showing for someone who’s better known for a marathoner’s shuffle.

I was really bummed/embarrassed/frustrated I didn’t finish the workout, but I had at least kept up with them for a significant portion. A few days later, we had a “cross country” workout on a grass field. I had only been to one of these so far, and it was pretty low key. But Clubs is looming, so this one was kicking it up a notch. The loop is about 2k, and we had to do three repeats of the loop, getting faster with each repeat. I think I got dropped halfway through the first, and almost immediately on the second and third. It was not pretty. I realize these girls are some freaking rock stars, but it’s frustrating to get gapped so early. Am I just throwing in the towel? Shouldn't I be able to push myself to stay with them longer? It was a frustrating day.

Back at the track the next Wednesday, I actually did hang with them for the entirety of a workout. (That’s not completely true, I got dropped at the end of the one of the earlier intervals, but then recovered and stayed with them for the rest. Hey, let me have my small victories.) I took it as an encouraging sign, because (to me, at least) it was a tough workout, and I needed to have one of those moments where it totally sucks and you think you’ll never make it but then you hang on and surprise yourself. 

Sunday was the Veteran’s Day 10k. I’ve been looking forward to it since Philly; I knew Army 10 was too close to get over whatever was ailing me, but the Vets Day 10k seemed far enough in the distance that I’d be back to business. Since the beginning of the season, Coach has said I can run a 37 minute 10k, which sounds great (PR!) to me, so now was the time to go for it. The goal was 6 minute pace, as in “do not go out with the other girls” (who are way too fast) but start easy with the hope that I’d have something left to kick it in at the end. This meant running alone, but whatever, remember the old days when I always raced alone? I latched onto two people in the first mile or so, and was feeling good, right on pace. Then one of them sped up, and one dropped back, and I was alone again. No worries, I’m cruising along on pace and everything is peachy. Might even get a 5k PR out of this.

Feeling good around 5k.

In reality, although the first mile was on pace, the next two were a few seconds slow, and there’s not much time to fix that in a 10k. After the turn around, one of my teammates struggling with a hamstring issue (but determined not to drop out!) decided to run back with me. Company again! I certainly felt like her presence was willing me to go faster, but when our splits came, it wasn’t the case. With two miles to go, I knew this was the time to pick it up and find that other gear, but instead my stomach twisted up again and I relived the cramps I felt in the 400 workout. Except I had two miles to go, not half a lap. My teammate was trying to push me to go, but I couldn’t pick it up. Even with the finish in sight, I had no kick. I finished in just over 38 minutes. (A PR, yes, but way off my goal.)

It’s been a frustrating few weeks (as evidenced by the frequency of that word in this post.) Certainly there are excuses to be made (work’s been rough, sleep’s been little, stomach’s been cramping) but I hate making those excuses. I have another 10k coming up on Thanksgiving (my first ever Turkey Trot!), and although it’s a much tougher course I’m hoping for some sort of redemption. Even if it’s not faster, I’d like to at least make it through a race without dying in the latter miles. Get back to the old negative splitting Teals of yesteryear. Of course, it’s much harder to do that as my expectations keep growing...

Dream big,

Teal