The Evolution of 2:42

My first marathon was a 4:07. My twelfth was a 2:42. How did I get there? Presenting: "The Evolution: An oversimplified look at how my training, goals, and lifestyle changed over ten years and twelve marathons."

As you’ll see there were some big jumps (namely the first one) and lots of smaller ones. I didn’t go from over four hours to under three overnight. I slowly chiseled away at my time, making new short-term and long-term goals as I went. Sometimes a big chunk would come off, but more often it was a small shard.

I chiseled away at other things, too. My first marathon was in college, fueled largely by burritos, beer, and too little sleep. I’ve slowly improved my nutrition over the years, to the point where I no longer chug Diet Coke all day and focus on getting a healthy serving of vegetables at every meal. (I’ve found it most essential to focus on vegetables; proteins and carbs come pretty easily with most typical meals. And I love fruit so I easily hit my quota there.) I’ve also focused on sleeping more, reminding myself (sometimes nightly) of its importance to training and racing well.

1. Charlottesville Marathon, April 2005

Goal: Finish

Training changes: The first marathon means longer runs than ever before. I didn’t worry about time or pace, just on getting in the distance.

Weekly mileage average: As proof of my inexperience, I’m not sure I kept a log or counted miles. I do know I started off with a training plan, and I diligently did most of my long runs each weekend, but I also remember skipping an awful lot of weekday runs in favor of sleep.

Best workout: On my first (and only) twenty-miler, I ran by a man working in his lawn. Hours later, I passed by again. “Are you still running!? How far are you going??” I proudly responded, “Twenty miles.” The shock on his face powered me through the final stretch. This is what it’s like to be a marathoner.

Biggest challenge: Running 26.2 miles…

Result: 4:07:12 (9:26 pace), completely satisfied and proud.

An amateur in a plain old cotton tee. Charlottesville 2005.

2. Baystate Marathon, October 2008

A goal: Qualify for Boston (3:40 back then, 8:25 pace), B goal: PR

Training changes: With a time goal in mind, I started caring about the pace of my long runs and added some tempo workouts.

Weekly mileage average: I definitely think I calculated mileage at this point, but apparently didn’t save my notes. (I still didn’t fathom how long this obsession would last.) 

Best workout: I started running long runs at goal pace, around 8 minute miles. (I’ve since honed my running knowledge quite a bit more, and that strategy is not recommended. I now do marathon pace runs only every few weeks and not for the entire duration of the run, see below.)

Biggest challenge: Run a marathon with some semblance of pace. I had over 27 minutes to slash to nab a BQ, and I often reminded myself (and family and friends) that it could take a few tries.

Result: 3:28:38 (7:58 pace), BQ by 11+ minutes, PR by 38+ minutes. Ecstatic.

On my way to my first BQ. Baystate 2008.

3. Boston Marathon, April 2009

A goal: Sub 3:20, B goal: PR

Training changes: I did more twenty milers (that often included part of the Boston course), going from doing one per season to three.

Weekly mileage average: 36 Highest week: 45

Best workout: My first half-marathon, a 1:34:39, which predicted a 3:18 marathon.

Biggest challenge: Battled some ankle issues, spent 3 weeks in January cross training

Result: 3:18:49 (7:35 pace), PR by almost 10 minutes. Pleased.

Finishing my first--but certainly not last--Boston. 2009

Side-note from my journal after this race: “[Thinking about new goals and how far I can take this] Could I get under 3:00? If I could, I bet I could win (or give a serious shot to winning) a small, unpopular marathon. And if I got that, I would have to give a serious shot to getting a 2:48 [the 2008 standard, I didn’t know it would get harder] and qualifying for the Olympic Trials. Yea, yea, yea, it’s CRAZY and that is a really impossibly* hard goal … I'll probably never get there, but if it drives me to win a race or to slowly get closer and closer to 3:00 then I'll take it.”

*Dear 2009 Teal: Never say something's impossible. (See marathons 7, 9, and 12 for how accurate this prediction turned out to be.)

4. New York City Marathon, November 2009

A goal: Sub 3:10 B goal: Sub 3:15

Training changes: I bumped my mileage slightly (tried to average 50 miles per week) and added track workouts.

Weekly mileage average: 44 Highest week: 57

Best workout: One week in October I did 10X800s, averaging 3:08 (“Yasso 800s,” predicts a 3:08 marathon), on Tuesday and an 8 mile tempo run at 6:46 pace on Thursday. I drew a smiley face in my log that week.

Biggest challenge: During the summer I moved to DC for graduate school, but first lived in a rodent-infested apartment where I got no sleep. I moved out by September, but had a string of workouts where I tripped and fell. I blame exhaustion for making my already shuffling stride worse, to the point where my feet barely came off the ground and I tripped often and brutally. (I even ended up tripping and falling in the race, just to give the season a sense of continuity.) 

Result: 3:18:29 (7:35 pace), PR by 20 seconds, but upset.

Scraped up as usual. NYC 2009.

5. National Marathon, March 2010 (now Rock-n-Roll USA)

A goal: Sub 3:05, B goal: Sub 3:10

Training changes: Tried to get better about lifting and doing core work. (Something I still struggle with.)

Weekly Mileage Average: 42 Highest Week: 56

Best workout: Yasso 800s with 3:05 average

Biggest challenge: DC’s infamous “Snowpocalypse.” It snowed repeatedly and massively (for DC, which was ill-prepared to deal with it). My log is a string of curses about the snow.

Result: 3:14:45 (7:26 pace), PR by 4 minutes, but a little bummed.

At least race day was snow-free. DC 2010.

6. Chicago Marathon, October 2010

A goal: Sub 3:05, B goal: Sub 3:10

Training changes: Bumped my mileage again and started doing doubles one day a week.

Weekly mileage average: 60 Highest week: 69

Best workout: Broke 1:30 for the half marathon (predicts a 3:06 marathon) and averaged 2:59 for Yasso 800s.

Biggest challenge: The training went relatively well, but race day was hot (mid-80s). I stupidly went out hard anyway (3:05 pace at halfway) and paid for it, brutally. 

Result: 3:20:16 (7:39 pace), the first marathon I did not PR. Devastated.

Hot, hot, hot. Chicago 2010.

7. Boston Marathon, April 2011

A goal: Sub 3:00 (6:52 pace)…. I didn’t have a B goal; I wanted a 2:59 and nothing else.

Training changes: I started using the training plans in Advanced Marathoning. (I’ve used them ever since, tweaking them only ever so slightly.)

Weekly mileage average: 63 Highest week: 70

Best workout: Advanced Marathoning gave me the structure for my marathon pace workouts. I did 8 miles at pace (15 total with warm up and cool down) in January and 12 miles (20 total) at 6:56 pace in March. I also broke 6 for the mile for the first time in my life.

Biggest challenge: The challenge was mental: getting over Chicago and believing a 15-minute PR was possible.

Result: 2:59:30 (6:51 pace), a PR by 15 minutes. Ecstatic.

Going for sub-3. Boston 2011. 

8. Chicago Marathon, October 2011

A goal: Sub 2:55, B goal: PR/redemption for 2010 Chicago

Training changes: I didn’t seem to change much here. Was I so happy with breaking 3 that I got complacent? That seems doubtful, but the plan looks similar to the previous season.

Weekly mileage average: 65 Highest week: 71

Best workout: 10 miles at 6:47 (18 total) in August, track workouts went pretty well.

Biggest challenge: Looking back at my workouts, none of them were stellar. A half marathon in early September went terribly.

Result: 2:55:35 (6:42 pace), PR by almost 4 minutes. Pretty pleased.

Back for redemption. Chicago 2011.

9. Charlottesville Marathon, April 2012

A goal: Win, B goal: Sub 2:50… changed to just PR-ing after I saw the hills the day before

Training changes: No more complacency. I cranked up my mileage again (went to the next level in Advanced Marathoning) and only took a day off every 2-3 weeks. I also made my marathon pace workouts hillier.

Weekly mileage average: 74 Highest week: 81

Best workout: 12 marathon pace miles (18 total) at 6:42. Also did a 20 miler with 14 marathon paced miles (my longest yet) but wasn’t so pleased with the pace (6:49).

Biggest challenge: An incredibly hilly course, all the other women in the race.

Result: 2:53:10 (6:37 pace), 1^st place, 2+ minute PR. Thrilled.

Winning. (The clock is wrong.) Charlottesville 2012.

10. Boston Marathon, April 2013

A goal: Sub 2:48, B goal: Sub 2:50

Training changes: In the summer of 2012 I joined GRC. I spent the fall trying to improve my times at shorter distances; this was my first marathon with the team.

Weekly mileage average: 78 Highest week: 85

Best workout: I broke 1:22 for the half marathon, a week after running an 8k as a workout. I did the 8k (~5 miles) at 6:04 pace and was feeling confident.

Biggest challenge: I reworked my training plan to align more with teammates, planning to cut my longest effort at pace from 14 to 12. But in reality, I never even made it to 12, as I had stomach issues that day and called it at 8. I also struggled with insomnia leading up to the race. Looking back at this training block, I think I was in great half marathon shape, but not great full marathon shape.

Result: 2:52:35 (6:35 pace), PR by 35 seconds. Really bummed. (But quickly overtaken by other emotions on that horrible day.) 

A day ending in many tears. Boston 2013.

11. Boston Marathon, April 2014

A goal: Sub 2:46, B goal: Sub 2:48 (I was sure I would at least break 2:50.)

Training changes: Coming back from my hip injury, I went back to less mileage and taking one day completely off each week.

Weekly mileage average: 64 Highest week: 72

Best workout: My longest marathon pace effort was 12 miles (18 total) at 6:24 pace (equates to a 2:47 marathon). I was psyched.

Biggest challenge: Coming back from injury, with less of a build up then usual. Still, the workouts seemed to tell me I was ready for something big.

Result: 2:58:37 (6:49 pace), the second time I did not PR in a marathon. Devastated.

A disappointing, dehydrating day. Boston 2014.

12. California International Marathon, December 2014

A goal: Sub 2:43, qualify for the Trials, B goal: None. Sub-2:43 or bust.

Training changes: I put my faith back in longer marathon pace workouts. I also started doing yoga more often and foam-rolling every day.

Weekly mileage average: 70 Highest week: 83

Best workout: 16 mile marathon pace run at 6:12 (22 miles total)

Biggest challenge: A poor showing at the Philly Half set me back psychologically… I took a few days off and cut down my mileage to try to get some bounce back.

Result: 2:42:13 (6:12 pace), Trials qualifier, 10+ minute PR. Ecstatic.

Achieving the dream. CIM 2014.

The most encouraging story from that progression is that there’s power in disappointment. Two of my biggest PRs (Boston 2011, by 15 minutes, and CIM, by 10 minutes) came right after my biggest failures (the two marathons I did not PR, Chicago 2010 and Boston 2014). Defeat can be a powerful motivator. Like an old football rivalry, you don’t want your enemy to get the best of you again, so you fight harder and do everything possible to come out on top.

Also, as I chiseled my time down, I sculpted my training to what works for me. Yasso 800s—while wildly popular in some running circles—don’t work for me (or at least don’t predict correctly), but long, steady efforts at pace do. (This makes sense, as Renato Canova, the famous coach of Kenyan marathoners, often discusses. Workouts with paces close to marathon pace are far more important than those farther away; i.e. a workout at marathon pace matters more than a track workout at a much faster pace.)

You have to find what works for you. I remember frequently thinking that there was no way I (or anyone) could make it to the Trials on less than 90 miles per week. The women who compete in the Trials just seemed too amazingly fit and fast to be running anything less. I like running higher mileage and kept trying to bump it up to something that seemed “Trials-worthy”, but in the end, I made it on 70 miles a week. Don’t be intimidated or discouraged by what others are doing (or what you think others are doing). Everyone is different; what works for someone else might not work you.

That’s how I made my goal. How will you?

Dream big,

Teal

Race Report: Charlottesville Marathon: Part 2

This is Part 2 of my Charlottesville Marathon Race Report. To catch up with Part 1, click here.

At mile 19.5, we met back up with the half marathoners and passed their finish. I so wished I could stop there. But it was back out to the lonely streets.

Mile 20, alone.
52 seconds behind Orange Shirt.

At this point, I was simultaneously losing hope and trying to talk myself back into it. One part of me was trying to think positive things, but the other part wasn’t believing any of it. I tried to channel Dathan Ritzenhein, who ran the Olympic Trials in January, got dropped from the lead pack, but didn’t give up. He knew anything can happen in the final miles of a marathon, and that someone might come back to him. Someone did, and he closed the gap to come within 8 seconds of third place. (Yes, despite his valiant effort and determination, he still lost.  That part didn’t matter to me, I was focusing on the not giving up. On the idea that anything can happen.) Maybe she would start coming back. As my training book says, the last 10k of a marathon are the miles that poorly prepared marathoners fear and that well-prepared marathoners relish. I was well prepared. It was my time to relish. My dad encouraged me, saying that the last miles were all mine. And here they were, I couldn’t give up. Anything can happen in the final miles. At mile 20, I was only a minute off my 2:52 time goal, maybe I would get it after all. Would I be happy with a PR and not a win? No, I knew I wouldn’t. But my God, I just wanted this to end.

The problem was she was not coming back to me. When we had a long stretch of road I could see her, the Orange Shirt, the motorcade. It was so far ahead, and it wasn’t getting closer. I knew miles 22-24 were flat through woods along a river, before the dreaded mile 24 hill. I couldn’t wait to the get to the river and be rid of the ups and downs for a bit. Along the river I tried to be positive. I was doing ok, considering. If she started faltering, I could overtake her. I felt like I was picking up my pace on the flats, but when I looked at my watch I saw I wasn’t. I couldn’t see her anymore, with the twists and turns through the woods. Now I just wanted the woods to end. Get to The Hill and get this the hell over with. If I could survive The Hill, maybe I could pick it up in the last two miles.

Finally, I emerged from the river and the woods. And. There. Was. The. Hill. It was enormous and she was WAY up it already. But when I spotted her, her arm swing was off. I focused a little more. She was walking! As soon as I realized it, she began running again. But her weakness had been seen. The glimmer of hope grew in my mind. I couldn’t let someone who walked beat me. My sister and fiancée were halfway up The Hill, and they ran down to tell me that she had walked, that she had told one of the guys she was with that her stomach hurt, that I could take it in these last few miles. “The faster you run, the faster you’re done,” said my sister. Okay, this is it, I thought. Once I get to the top of The Hill I give it everything I’ve got.

Except I couldn’t. I tried to run faster and it didn’t seem possible. What seemed flat yesterday on the scope out mission was not flat. I tried to think that every hill was hurting her more than me. I prayed she would walk again. Give me more hope. She didn’t.  I wondered if I would run out of space.

I knew I had to be at 2:44 at mile 25 to be on pace for my 2:52. Before the 25th mile marker, I looked at my watch. It said 2:45. And I hadn’t seen the marker yet. And then it hit me, I might not win or PR. Everything I worked for was quickly fading away. I couldn’t let that happen. I HAD to win. The fire grew inside me. I started reciting Eminem.

I had scoped out the finish carefully. I knew after the 25th marker it was a bunch of quick turns through residential streets. Run a block, sharp left turn, one more block, sharp right. There was slight downhill along a curve and then the finish was close. You still couldn’t see it, but you had to know it was there. That was the time to sprint. I had it all envisioned in my mind. I had to do it.

The final turn.

We turned through the residential streets and she still seemed far ahead but slowly, with each turn, block by block, she was getting closer.  I don’t know how, but it was happening. As we made it to the downhill curve, with about a quarter or a half mile to go, I was catching her, pulling alongside, and then blowing by. Everything in me hurt. I was literally telling my muscles to go, urging them with “c’mon, c’mon” muttered under my breath. I would have screamed it louder if I had the energy. As we rounded the curve, the motorcade was now leading me, I could hear them talking about how I came back. My sister and fiancée were there to see it, screaming their hearts out. My sister was yelling “Sprint, sprint!” and I was so scared Orange Shirt was on my tail I dug even deeper and kept willing myself to go faster. It was more pain than I’ve ever felt during a race. I kept yelling “c’mon” to myself. My Dad was standing at the final turn screaming wildly. I was winning. But I hadn’t won yet. It was still up a slope and through a shoot that would not end. I was running scared out of my mind that she would catch me and I would realize my worst fear of being outkicked. But there it FINALLY was. The finish. And I had done the outkicking.

There was no tape to break (I have always wanted to break the tape, but it will have to be a dream for another day) but when I finished I threw my arms up in triumph. I was so glad to be done. So glad the agony was over. The mental anguish of thinking I might not win, I might not PR, was over. I had done both. (I wouldn’t know until later, but my official time was 2:53:10, a PR by over 2 minutes. Eleven seconds off the 2:52 I had hoped for, but at this point it didn’t matter.) I had set a goal a long time ago of winning a marathon someday, and I had done it.

Heading for the finish, and the win.

Sometimes after a race I wonder if I could have gone faster. At Chicago last fall I held back for the first 20 miles for fear of the weather and memories of the previous year’s disappointment. I ran a smart race and was rewarded with a new PR, but when it was all done I wondered if I could have given more. At the end of Charlottesville, I knew I had no more to give. I left everything out there. It was the toughest race I have ever run. The physical pain of a hilly 26.2 miles compounded by the mental anguish of losing until the last possible second was harder than any other race. It turned out to be exactly the best scenario, what I had hoped for: to be behind, but still in contention, and to kick past to win. But knowing now how hard that was and how much it #@*%! hurt, I’ll be more careful what I wish for. I’ve heard it said that “No one really wins a marathon. You just survive it better.” I understand that completely now.

Afterwards, my family and I went out to eat. The waitress saw my finisher’s medal and wondered if I had run. I said I had, and then, as if on cue, she asked what every nonrunner asks someone who just ran a race: “Did you win?” she questioned, half laughing.

“Yea. Actually, I did.”

Dream big,

Teal 

Race Report: Charlottesville Marathon: Part 1

First, a word of warning. It takes me nearly 3 hours to run a marathon, and close to four months to train for one, so I’m not going to be able to describe the race too concisely. This will be the first of a two-part story of my agonizing and painful journey through Charlottesville.

I’ve told you before why I chose Charlottesville. But I’ll let you in on one more secret, because it’s over now and there’s no harm in being honest, I also chose it because I thought I could win. Last year’s race was won in 2:57 and previous years were over 3 hours. This was my chance to get a moment to shine.

Also, of course, I wanted to PR. That’s no secret, I go into every race wanting to PR. I’m very much of the thinking that you need to be moving forward; I don’t train for 4 months to end up back where I started. Considering the course’s hills, this was a tough enough goal. But it’s a goal that I’m used to chasing.

Going into a race with a competitive goal (i.e. winning) is a completely different ballgame, one that I’ve never experienced. Marathons are massive events with thousands if not tens of thousands of people, some of whom are professional athletes or Kenyans, and my primary goals aren’t my finishing places. Mostly I’m going after time; I cared far more that I finished with a 2:55 in Chicago than as the 63rd woman. I would not have felt any differently if I had finished 64th or 73rd. I may try to out kick someone for an extra spot, like at the Rock-n-Roll USA Half, but in the end, that doesn’t really matter. The only places that really matter are the top three, if not just the winner. For the people behind them, the time and the competition with themselves is what matters.

Leading up to Charlottesville, I tried not to concentrate on winning. I didn’t want my entire experience to be ruined if I didn’t win, especially if it was completely out of my hands. I didn’t know if there were other women out there like me that thought Charlottesville could be an easy win. Maybe they had 2:45 PRs. Come race day, I could run the best race of my life, but that would be a race I would not win. And so I tried not to put all my eggs in that basket. I didn’t write about it here. I told very few people that was my goal. I tried to get myself to stop thinking about it as the do-or-die goal. A good piece of advice going into a marathon is to have 3 goals: (1) your very best, perfect day, perfect weather goal, (2) your realistic goal, and (3) your “I can live with this” goal, when you have a bad day, the weather’s bad, you cramp up. So much can happen over the course of 26 miles, there has to be some room to reassess your goals. I tried to think of winning as my #1 goal, my best day, best-case scenario and PRing as my realistic goal. Goal 3 was breaking 3 hours, and although I considered it to be a time I would most certainly get, the hills added an element of uncertainty.

As you can probably tell from this obsessive blog, I put a lot of pressure on myself going into a race. The days before I am a nervous mess. I was scared of the hills, I was worried about running the entire race alone since the field was so small. I knew that despite how much I tried to back off the goal, I would not be happy without a win. It was one of the reasons I came to Charlottesville. One of the reasons I was torturing myself with these hills. Would I be happy with second place and a PR? No, I knew I wouldn’t. I mulled over the possibilities:

1. Ms. 2:45 comes. She runs away with it from the gun and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

2. Someone sits on me the whole race, biding their time and making me do the pacing and then sprints by me in the end. That seemed like the worst possible option. I am a come-from-behind runner, I can’t handle the stress of leading.

3. I would be far and away the best runner and lead easily from the gun. This seems ideal, but would that make me slow down and not push myself to a PR? Would I be happy with a win and no PR?

4. I would be the person sitting on someone and then pull a come-from-behind win. Perhaps the best possible situation.

Turning these options over in my mind in the days and sleepless nights before the race (and through all the weeks of training) did nothing to help my nerves. I couldn’t predict who would show up and there was a part of me that knew I would only be relieved once the race started and I’d finally know what situation I was in.

Race day was perfect weather. I took my spot at the front and did my normal check-out-the-other-runners around me, which serves no purpose except to intimidate myself. There are many incredibly thin, professional looking runners at every race, and in my eyes, they always seem faster than me.

The gun went off and I was immediately in the women’s lead. Not just the lead for the marathon, but also the first woman from the half marathon or full marathon. I won’t lie, this freaked me out a bit. But I was running a comfortable pace and feeling good. The first miles of a marathon should be easy and feel slow, going too fast here is a dead man’s game. I even slowed down a bit in the third mile, trying to maintain an easy pace. Quickly, I found myself with a biker escort, which appeased my fears of running alone and finding my way along the course, which involved looping through parking lots and parks and along wooded trails. I thought, “Ok maybe this is how it’s going to be: scenario 3, all alone at the front for the whole race.” I saw my sister and fiancée at mile 3, and they looked none too impressed I was in the lead, perhaps because they saw what was behind me and what was coming. I had no idea where the rest of the women’s field was.

We head up the hill.
I'm in blue, with Orange Shirt just behind.

At mile 5.5 we take a turn and run up one of the worst hills on the course. I had spent time studying the course and drove part of it the day before, and I knew this hill and the hill at mile 24 would be the worst. I even remembered this hill from when I ran the first time, way back in 2005. Still feeling good, I headed up it. I heard a group of people coming up behind me, but they sounded like men, so what did I care. (Yes, I can usually tell women runners from men runners, they breathe differently.) But as they passed me halfway up the hill, I saw one of them was a woman in an orange shirt (no fair! her breath was disguised by the group of men!) Out of the corner of my eye, I checked her bib: red meant full marathon, white meant half marathon. There was a moment where it looked white, thank goodness. Let her go, she’s in a different race. But as she passed I saw it again, more clearly, and that bib was red. (How many times did I learn in my neuroscience classes that peripheral vision can’t see color? Don’t trust it!!) And just like that, there went my lead. Orange Shirt continued up the hill, got the biker escort, and built up a nice lead. At mile 7.5, we turn around and head back the way we came, back down the hill. You can see everyone behind you at this point, and the third place girl didn’t look far. My God, I thought, I’m going to struggle to even get 2nd.

Over the next few miles, I just tried to keep contact. I still didn’t know what to think of what had happened and what I could do about it. We were still following the same course backwards, so the others runners in the race were running by in the other direction, shouting encouragement. “She’s right up ahead! You can catch her.” I wanted to scream back, “No, you don’t understand. She just caught ME. She’s running away from me, I’m not catching her.” 

Back down the hill, alone.

So the situation had gone from scenario 3 to either a 1 or a 4. She could keep building her lead and literally run away with it or I could hang on and run from behind. As I began to realize this, I started to gain back a little hope. Her lead wasn’t extending any more. She was in front and I was where I wanted to be, running from behind. At mile 10.5, my sister told me she looked tired and I took comfort in this; she’s going out too fast, I’m going to stay right here, maybe get a little closer but not pass her. Just bide my time until she breaks. Maybe she’ll pull me along to a PR. For a few more miles, I felt good and at peace with the situation.

I was so involved with the competitive aspect, I wasn’t really paying attention to my splits. It was good I had something else to focus on, because my watch was giving me serious trouble. I wear a Garmin, which is incredibly useful because it can tell you your pace in real time; you look down and it tells you at that moment you’re running a 6:33. I usually have it set so it also beeps at the end of each mile and tells me that split. This can be annoying in races, because Garmins are not exactly accurate (and we shouldn’t expect them to be. It’s a GPS on your wrist, it’s not perfect.) In races what usually happens is it will be a little short. So after a few miles, your watch may beep, alerting you to how fast you ran the last mile, but you’ll see up ahead you haven’t yet passed the mile marker. If you go by that split, you’re going to think you’re running faster than you are. Better to wait until you get to the mile marker, and take a more official split there. (Assuming, of course, that the mile markers are accurate.) Having done the former too many times and gotten frustrated late in the race as my Garmin miles and the mile markers grow farther apart, I switched to the old fashion way for Chicago last fall. I turn off the beeps, and hit the lap button on my watch when I pass a mile marker. This requires you to see all the mile markers, but in Chicago I only missed one.

For Charlottesville, I worried about the visibility of the markers, but I decided to do the lap press option anyway. The weird part was some of the early miles were shorter than my Garmin thought: I got to mile marker 2 at 1.95 for example, whereas I usually get to mile marker 2 at 2.05 or something. This made me wonder about the markers, but again Garmins aren’t perfect so I didn’t stress about it. Until mile 7.5 when we hit the first turn around. Without realizing it, I had chosen the lap press option that also calculates a lap every time you pass a point where you previously hit the button. So when I was at mile 7, I hit the button, and when I passed back by that marker going the other direction, it told me a new split, despite the fact that it wasn’t a mile. I couldn’t stop and fix it now, so after that I gave up on hitting the button. I went even more old school and just tried to calculate splits in my head, trying to maintain as close to a 6:30 pace as possible. I knew where I needed to be at 10 miles to run a 2:52. (My goal had been to run between a 2:50 and a 2:52. When my sister and I drove the course the day before, my goal became a 2:52, barring any divine intervention that would allow me to run a 2:50 on those hills.) I wasn’t far off at 10 miles and I knew where I needed to be for the half split as well, so I focused on that.

My view for most of the race.
Orange Shirt is far ahead, with her motorcade.
(Some of the other runners are in the 8k.)

Having studied the map and elevation, I knew there was some significant downhill at mile 12, and feeling on pace and like Orange Shirt wasn’t getting too far ahead of me, I had a good patch for a few miles. I saw my family again, who assured me the 3rd place girl was way back and no threat. Then came the turn at mile 12.5 onto a new out and back part until mile 19. The elevation maps told me this part wouldn’t be too bad, but when we drove it, I began to have my doubts. Running it didn’t help. I savored every downhill, but only for a moment, because I knew I’d have to run back up it. Every uphill was torture. And something in the right side of my butt started screaming in pain. I knew this was from the hills, and I knew it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. How was I going to run another 13 miles like this? Doubts and hatred for the marathon started in. I wanted to stop. I wanted to drop out. I wanted Orange Shirt to drop out. But who would drop out when they are winning? I thought about second place and how I wasn’t going to be satisfied with that. But this race really sucked. Mentally, it was torture. The halfway mark wasn’t there (or I didn’t see it) and there were hardly any markers when we turned into the woods around mile 14. There were lots of turns and the woods prevented me from keeping an eye on Orange Shirt, who now also had a motorcycle at her side, in addition to a couple of guys and the biker escort. At the turn around near mile 15.5 it got worse. Orange Shirt got a chance to see where I was as she turned back, and I think she picked it up. I lost sight of her again back through the woods, but once again the other runners were all encouragement. Third place told me I could catch her. Orange shirt’s biker escort (he used to be MY biker escort!) commended me for keeping it close. But my God, I wasn’t believing it. I lost the guy I was running behind and felt very alone. There were times where I wasn’t even sure where I was going. My butt continued to protest every step. I had no idea what my pace was, but I figured I had to be slowing down.

After the woods, miles 18 and 19 seemed all uphill. Once again, I saw my family who tried to encourage me, but I wondered if they really believed it. I was a good minute behind this girl now and hurting. I wanted to sit down on the sidewalk with my family and just let it be over. But there was still so far to go.

To be continued....

Dream big,

Teal

The clouds roll in

This morning’s run started off well. It was my normal midweek 15 miler, which (despite starting before the crack of dawn) I’ve actually grown to like. I always bring my Ipod along, thinking by mile five or so I’ll be in need of some musical relief, and I almost never end up using it. The sun comes up, the miles tick by, and I get into the runner’s groove.

Today started off no differently. I even brought my camera to try to capture some of the scenery from these early morning jaunts (see below.) While everyone else was sleeping, I was enjoying myself, having my own kind of fun out on the town. (Runners have a different definition of fun.) To add to the good vibes, these runs have gotten faster and today's first few miles followed the trend.

Points if you can guess what city I live in. A slap on the wrist if you can't.

But then, about halfway through, it took a turn for the worst. I hit a small molehill and my pace suffered like it was mountain. A few miles later, quite literally, the clouds rolled in. Often times, I don’t mind running in the rain, but today, five miles from home and unprepared, wasn’t one of them. I made it through the rest of the run, but it wasn’t fun. I got home drenched to the bone, exhausted, and far from invigorated from my early morning effort.

But that’s the thing about running. Often people compare running marathons to life; there are hills and valleys, good patches and bad. Sometimes you’re struggling and sometimes you’re high on life (or endorphins.) Training is no different. Some runs are great, some are terrible, some are a mix of both. But even on the worst mental days, be comforted by the fact that your heart and muscles are still getting the benefits. Training through the rough patches is excellent training for when they inevitably come up in a race. And even if you end up wet, exhausted, and just glad to be done, you can be comforted that there will be better days. And if you’re lucky, you’ll have the pictures to prove it.

Dream big,
Teal

Run for the hills

When I first ran Charlottesville, reviews for the race warned me: “Do NOT run this race as your first marathon! The hills will kill you!” I ignored them, finished my first marathon despite crawling up a few hills, and now enough time has passed that I’ve sufficiently repressed the pain and am taking it on again. More prepared this time, and curious as to how I will do as a veteran.

But the hills still scare me. Even after I was happy about my last marathon pace workout doubts started setting in: maybe that route wasn’t hilly enough, maybe I was going too easy on myself. Much like the optimistic New Year’s resolution makers, at the beginning of every training season I tell myself I will be better at the little extras: I’ll run my hill repeats and do my strength work. But as the season gets going, it’s easy to slip into the rhythm, just check off workouts, and lose the perspective and desire to do the extras.

But after another disappointing tempo run last week, which I realized was the last tempo run of this training season (!!), I realized how close the hills of Charlottesville are. So for my long run Sunday, I tweeked my usual route to try to include more hills (often that meant just running up and down the same hill multiple times.) The workout was slow and beat me up sufficiently. My Garmin tracked the elevation, and the chart is below. Looking at it compared to Charlottesville, I see the “hilly” run wasn’t hilly enough.

I’ve tried to line up my route with Charlottesville’s and manipulate the scale so they are comparable. I highly suggest you do something similar in your own training. Even if you don’t have a GPS watch, you should make note of where the hills are in the race and approximately how long they are (200 meters? half a mile? two miles?) If you can get a sense of the steepness, all the better. Then try to replicate the same in your workouts. If there is a hill towards the end of the race, make sure there’s one at the end of your workout. In addition to building strength and power, it’s incredibly important for mental preparation. 

A few things I noted from my comparison:

(1) The hills in the middle of my route are barely blips, I need to find something more significant.

(2) The more significant hills (arrows) I ran over Sunday killed me but are eerily similar to the worst hills at Charlottesville. The hill at mile 24 was already terrifying. Knowing how I ran up a similar hill the other day, I’m sufficiently worried. (One more plea to check elevation charts: The race website claims four flat miles at the end. Not exactly the truth.)

(3) I need to get to work! Only six weeks left! Yikes this is going to be rough.

(The asterisks are not real hills. When I run over bridges my Garmin gets confused and thinks I instantaneously dropped down to the road below and then rocketed back up to the bridge. Technology is great, but not perfect.)

Dream big,

Teal 

Mileage: A New High

A casual runner can stay in good shape running about 20 miles a week. During marathon training, that needs to be bumped up to 30 or 40 miles a week. Most first time training plans will peak with a 20 mile long run and as a rule, you shouldn’t run more than ½ your mileage for the week in one run. (In other words, don't run 20 miles on Sunday and only 10 total miles the rest of the week.) Though some training plans will break this rule during the week including the longest run, it shouldn’t stray too far from that.

Reality check: the professional women runners of the world run between 110 and 120 mile weeks during their peak training. Men go even further, sometimes upwards of 140 miles a week. (Quick math: that’s 20 miles A DAY. Please leave this to the professionals!) Famously, Catherine Ndereba (“Catherine the Great”) maxes out in the 90 mile a week range, but this is of note only because it’s so far from the norm.

So, not surprisingly, the best in the world run a lot more than the everyday runner. The Captain Obvious’s of the running world stand by the notion that the only way to get better at running is to run. But others argue that runs whose only purpose is to add to the mileage total (termed “junk miles”) are unnecessary and increase risk of injury or burnout. Programs like FIRST and Crossfit offer encouragement for time-pressed runners, claiming that you can get better by only running a few days a week: stressing hard efforts on your on days, supplementing with cross-training, and resting completely on other days.

I don’t think there’s a clear answer to this debate; I think it completely depends on the runner. Some people can handle the mileage, some can’t, and only carefully trying both styles will tell. And I do agree that each run needs to have a purpose, easy recovery runs do help promote recovery, but can also do more harm than good for some runners.

In my case, I do better running more than less. Both my confidence in my training and race times have improved with increased mileage. In my progression from a 4:07 to a 2:55 marathon, I have slowly and carefully ramped up my mileage from 40 miles per week to 50 (before NYC in 2009) and then stuck with 70 (before 2011’s Boston and Chicago, where I broke 3 hours.)  Last summer I made my first attempt at getting to 80, but wound up with classic signs of over-training (slower paces in workouts, mentally drained) and backed off.

In training for Charlottesville, I gave it another go. I’ve slowly added more miles and this week hit my new high: 80 miles! And, despite some soreness from this morning’s 20 miler, I feel pretty good. Of course, our bodies don’t divide things into 7 day weeks, and mine doesn’t know that I consider my running weeks to start on Monday and end on Sunday. To my legs, tomorrow won’t be the fresh start to a new week, but just another day after today’s workout. So I’ll keep being careful and seeing how my body handles this. The beauty of (and reason for) doing this now is that I can back off/take time off if I push a little too far. I have plenty of time to recover before any real attempts at the trials standard. But for the time being, I’m still proud to reach a new high.

It's true. I'm hip enough to have a blog but am old school with my pen and paper running log.

Dream big, 

Teal 

Next up: Charlottesville

I officially signed up for the Charlottesville Marathon yesterday. I don’t know why it took me so long to monetarily commit, I have known that would be my next race for two or three months.

There are a few reasons I chose Charlottesville. First and foremost, it’s a spring marathon and there aren’t many of those. (Try going for a training run at 6 am tomorrow morning and you’ll realize why.)  Boston is easily my favorite race ever, but it’s a big, expensive ordeal to get there and take time off work (nobody outside of Boston actually gets Patriot’s Day off.) Since I splurged last year on two big city races, I decided to take it easy this season.

Charlottesville is a small race (3500 total in the full and half) and generally I’m a fan of bigger races: I feel like all my hard work should be celebrated with a huge event, involving approximately 26 miles of cheering spectators, a city filled to the brim with other running crazies like myself, and hopefully a professional runner sighting or two. (Too demanding?) But Charlottesville will allow my dedicated Team Teal support crew to see me often (no hopping on and off the subway, getting slowed by meeting Patrick Makau, or sprinting between stops.) Additionally, I think I can do well against the field, which will help when my non-running friends ask how I did. (63rd at Chicago just doesn’t seem to garnish much attention for some reason.)

Finally, I chose it because it’s a hard course. I’ve run a few easy courses the last couple races (though no one considered Boston easy until the recent relentless efforts by the Kenyans who dropped the course record from 2:07 to 2:03 in two years.) With plenty of time before the Trials, I feel like it’s important to get a challenging effort in (read: a slow time) while I can afford it. Later, I’ll need to return to the fast courses to get every bit of help I can. My brother (an Ironman who competed in the World Championships and helped pace me at my first sub 3 hour marathon, so his advice is to be taken seriously) thinks I should take some time off so as not to burn out. I agree with that; I don’t think I can keep running two marathons a year for the next 4 years. I’d like to take a season or two off and to work on my speed at shorter distances (which is ridiculously bad proportional to my marathon times.) But, as my 600-mile-away-boyfriend has recently become my much-closer-living-fiancé, and we plan to tie the knot next spring, I think I’ll be happy to focus on shorter races then, when I’m knee deep in wedding plans.

Hopefully I'll be a bit faster this time around!

I ran Charlottesville as my first ever marathon and my knees felt the damage of the hilly course for at least a week afterward. It will be fun to see what kind of damage I can do to the course this time around!

Dream big,

Teal