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

Goals

People ask how I got into running marathons and the truth is I needed a Big Scary Goal to get me running at all again. I ran cross country and track in high school, but once I got to college, I ran only in fits and starts and basically ignored it for long stretches of time. (I wasn’t a college athlete, obviously). I wanted to run because I loved running, it kept me in shape, relieved anxiety, blah blah blah… all of the million reasons to run. But the truth is none of those reasons got me out of bed in the morning. Only a Big Goal that requires serious effort would.

And so I decided to run a marathon. That was serious enough to get me going and it worked. Ten years and twelve marathons later, the same principle holds true. I love running for a million reasons, but getting out the door is still not always easy. I need a push, and the push for me has always been Big, Scary, I-Might-Not-Make-It-Unless-I-Do-Everything-I-Can Goals.

Last week I talked about the fear of injury, and the obvious solution for my anxiety would be to chill out a bit on my times and goals. Enjoy running the Trials because I’m lucky enough to be there. Many people, mostly concerned friends and family, have mentioned this and I’ll grant that it’s a fair point. But… it’s not me.

The fun for me is in the pursuit of the goal, in the figuring out what I’m capable of, in having a great run/workout/daydream and imagining the possibilities. Running the Trials is huge, yes. The thrill of making it hasn’t worn off. But just running them, calling it in and enjoying a seriously high profile jog around LA doesn’t get me out of bed in the morning. The dream of racing well at the Trials does. 

A while back I listened to the Run to the Top Podcast with Dr. Stan Beecham, author of Elite Minds. He talked about setting goals that you’re only 60% sure you’ll hit. You might not make it, but you’ll almost surely run faster than if you went after a goal you were 100% sure you’d hit. I found myself nodding along to so much of what he said:

“We need goals that scare us a little bit… goals that wake you up in the morning and push you out of bed.”

“It’s the possibility that I may not be able to pull this off—that’s what makes every day interesting.”

I make these ridiculously ambitious goals unintentionally. Unofficially they’ve been simmering in my system since the last race. Wouldn’t it be awesome if… I would love to run X… The first couple passes through my brain they seem a little nuts. Yeah right, Teal. But, like I said, they simmer, keep gently bubbling up, and they won’t go away. Pretty soon they seem less like daydreams and more like goals. And I’ve thought about them so damn much I can’t imagine aiming lower.

Sometimes, they’re hugely crazy ambitious, and I come up way short. I never even made it to this past spring’s marathon starting line.

Sometimes (yes, less often), they’re hugely crazy ambitious, and I somehow achieve them. Last fall I was scared to admit to many people I was going for 2:43; my PR was ten minutes slower and I had come off a disastrous performance that spring. But dammit, that 2:43 simmered all summer, so I went for it.

And so this season, like all the others, my goals are Scary Big/Maybe Impossible, but that’s my favorite kind of goal and the only one that works for me. In one feeble attempt to keep me grounded, I’m trying to be a little flexible about them as the season goes on, so I won’t share them here. I will say, at the very least, I’m aiming to run a big PR on what looks to be a fast course. I hope to enjoy my laps around LA, but I know I will enjoy them far more if I’ve put in the work and am chasing something big.

Despite all that, I know I can’t go for PRs in every race. (Every marathon, yes; every race leading up to the marathon, no.) Some races will be workouts, tempo efforts, fun ways to celebrate holidays. This weekend I’ll run the Philly Half, and I honestly can’t tell you what my goal time is. I’m using it to gage where I’m at and to squeeze in one long fall race before the winter grind begins. I’ll be aiming to crush my PR at the next half I do. But this weekend, I’ll just see what happens.

And then it will be back to dreaming big.

Race Schedule:

Philadelphia Half-Marathon – Nov. 22

Richmond Turkey Trot 10K – Nov. 26

Jingle All The Way 5K – Dec. 6 {PR attempt, because… I mean, c’mon. 

Jacksonville Half-Marathon – Jan. 3 {PR attempt

US Olympic Marathon Trials – Feb. 13 {PR attempt, because… well, see above.

Dream bigger,

Teal

Paranoia, Paranoia, Injury’s Coming To Get Me...

This week I am finally in the groove. Real training. There have been a of couple signs over the last few weeks that things were returning to business as usual, but this week it’s undeniable. I am running like a normal, injury-free Teal. I love routines and I’m finally officially back in mine:

Back to track practice,

To chocolate milks and Gatorades,

To long, midweek, morning runs,

And shockingly, right on cue, back to paranoia.

Paranoia, paranoia...  

I’m a worrier, a major one. (I had never really considered how loving routines and worrying went together, but then I took the Believe Training Journal “Worrier or Warrior?” quiz. I knew I’d get worrier, but it was basically a joke how ridiculously well the traits fit me. And loving routine is one of them!)

After a few days of "I’m Back, Baby" Euphoria, the worries set in. What if I hurt myself? I know I’ve talked about those fears here already and I don’t want to belabor the point, but honestly… It’s. All. I. Can. Think. About.

More than any other race, I don’t want to sit out the Trials. This is what I’ve worked for over the last decade, what if I screw it up and can’t race?

I actually lost sleep over this last night, which is ludicrous for two reasons: 1. Actually getting the proper amount of sleep will help prevent injuries and 2. Staying up worrying about it won’t do anything. (Yes, of course I’m consciously aware of that fact, but it doesn’t help.)

I’m trying to do everything I can to stay healthy: eat right, sleep enough, do my core exercises, foam roll, etc. I’ve modeled my training plan after the one that got me successfully to the start and finish of CIM and I am trying to learn from mistakes in my training for Grandma’s. But sometimes injuries can be freak accidents. Or they can be bubbling under the surface without any sign until one day: BAM. It’s over. (My stress reaction was that way.)

I can’t not train. I can’t skip every workout for fear that it will be the one that sets me over the edge. But I'm also aware that I can’t do as much as I’d like. (Here’s a superpower I’d want: to be able to run AS MUCH AS I WANT and not get injured. Oh the joy! The freedom! The miles and miles and miles! I’d take the blisters, the exhaustion, the chafing, if I just stayed healthy…)

Alas, we’re not invincible, and a healthy fear of injury can keep us healthy. 

But still, I’m feeling a little too vincible these days. I’m trying to remind myself to be grateful and to thank God for getting me this far and healthy again. I’m doing all I can... now to just stop worrying and go the fudge to sleep.

Dream big,

Teal

Race (!!) Report: Southwest Center City 5K Run

Last week I visited Brother and his family in Philadelphia for Halloween festivities. Mostly, I wanted to see my adorable nephew’s costume, but Brother said there was a local 5K that morning and it might be fun to jump in.

It was a last minute decision; I hadn’t planned on racing for a few more weeks. But it was a low-key race with zero expectations. Brother warned me the course had lots of turns and wasn’t a PR course. I figured that was a good thing; the pressure was off. I’d wear Halloween colors—not my official GRC gear—and holiday socks to remind myself of that. Have fun and just do what I can.

The course. We did the bottom right loop once
(incorrectly) and the top left loop twice. 

But, the night before the race, our cousin told us about the prizes—top prize was a $500 Puma gift certificate. $500! That seemed way too generous for such a low-key race. Now I wanted to win.

As per always, people looked intimidating on the start line, but soon enough we were off and I was trailing a group of ten or so guys. I was in first for the women but had no idea where the other ladies were. Also, I was running too fast. Geez, relax, Teal.

The guys ahead—and everyone behind—missed an early turn. I had Brother, the local, beside me to realize the mistake. “Uhhh I think we missed a turn… Yeah, we’re definitely not on the course anymore.” As soon as he was sure, he started screaming directions to the guys ahead to get us back to the route. “Go left!! Turn here!! Take another left!” (Once again Brother was a huge help. When he’s not trying to beat me, he’s a stand up guy.)

It seemed everyone had followed us, so I was still leading the women. The course misstep had been jarring, but now we were on the out and backs I had run in the warm-up and I felt like I knew where we were going. My first mile split was right around where I thought it would be, and I just tried to keep it up. I didn’t know if there was a girl on my tail and I want that gift card, gosh darn it!

We did two loops of part of the course, and as we headed into the second loop, I was thankful it avoided the section we had messed up before. Mile 2 was super slow, but I didn’t beat myself up over it. Eh, my watch is probably wrong. Although I do run faster in workouts all by myself, maybe I should pick it up. Or maybe it’s all these turns. And suddenly, in classic Teal-runs-a-5K style, I realized with a shock I had only one mile left. Sheesh these things are short!

At the end of my second loop I caught up to the people finishing their first. I was dodging strollers, weaving around, and leaping onto the sidewalk. All the elements gave me another reason why it wouldn’t be a fast time and took any pressure off. Just relax, the time doesn’t matter. Just win.

Turn for home, stop the watch, catch my breath, look down. 18:48. WHAT?!

Here’s the first thing about that watch revelation: that’s technically a PR... Or it’s technically not, depending on your definition. It’s not, because I’ve run a faster pace for ten miles and the same pace for 13.1. It is, because my previous PR on an actual 5K course is 18:52. And it’s not because it turned out we didn’t run the actual 5K course…

And here’s the other thing the watch told me: it said I ran 2.98 miles. Right, right, right. So that’s why it’s so fast. I didn’t run far enough. But wait, didn’t we go farther by going off the course? All logic would say we did. And Garmins aren’t accurate on city streets with lots of turns.

Curiosity got the best of me and when I got home I mapped the route we ran online. It came out as over 3.2 miles, and my Garmin did skip a bunch of turns. So it really seems I ran at least a 5K. Not-really-a-PR-or-not, I know the time isn’t Olympic Trials worthy, but I’m happy with it none-the-less. I had fun, I enjoyed wearing my silly holiday socks, and I won that gift card. Not bad for a last minute Halloween race.

I spent the card in one fell swoop—the biggest shopping spree of my life by a landslide—and it was glorious. Now, to buy some more crazy socks for the next one…

Dream big,

Teal

Doing What I Can

I had planned to post today about the horrible workout I was planning on having this morning. I’ve been building up a base, and that’s going well, but my speed is nonexistent. Last week I did a fartlek and tried not to care about my pace, but wore a Garmin anyway since I knew I’d be curious afterwards. I was able to run five minutes at last fall’s marathon pace. Five minutes. Right, I just need to run 157 minutes more like that and I’m back, baby. (To where I was. Which—of course, knowing me—isn’t where I want to be.)

So, no high hopes for today’s workout, which involved alternating half-mile segments at something near tempo pace with half-mile segments at a steady pace (faster than an every day jog, but slower than marathon pace). (This is a great workout for easing into real tempo efforts, since you don’t get a complete rest between the segments.) Given the circumstances, I didn’t really fathom I’d hit anything like tempo pace (marathon pace even seemed unlikely) and so I just figured I’d do what I could, get a nice gage of where I’m at, and keep focusing on progressing forward. Not looking back at where I was, or what paces I used to be able to hit. I would aim to be sort of fartlek-y in my approach, not focusing too much on the watch or pace goals. 

Then I figured I’d turn the workout into a post about how to keep looking ahead, and how whatever you do today will make it easier next time, even if it’s just a tiny step forward. How you can only do what you can.

Right. All good points. But, um, not today’s post.

Here’s how the workout went: Got a nice cramp on the warm up (um, hello, I haven’t even really started yet), did some strides that felt hard (anything fast is hard), fumbled with my headphones (haven’t listened to music while running in a while), and I was off. If I run real tempo pace, I only have to hold this pace for three minutes; three minutes isn’t so bad. Haha, yea right, that’s old Teal tempo pace, not today Teal. I try to relax and get in a rhythm, not forcing anything, and bam. I hit the first segment shockingly fast. Like it actually did only take me three minutes. Say what?? I’ll probably slow on the next. I always start too fast.

The trick to this workout is not just jogging the recoveries. I’m supposed to keep a pretty honest pace before the next tempo segment. Ha. Hahaha. No way. This is going to be a SLOW jog after that start. Except, it isn’t. I’ve been surprised before how easy fast-ish paces can feel when they come after a harder segment and I’m floored by this one. What the heck? I’m cruising along like I’m actually in shape or something.

Photo from last fall, not today. But apparently things aren't much different.

And so it goes. My tempo segments are shockingly close to actual tempo pace. My steady intervals are close to where I thought they might be, but figured I was being overly optimistic. Halfway through, I turn around and get a better understanding of what’s going on. Ah yes, the wind. Suddenly I’m running into it. This will put me in my place.

It doesn’t. (It actually wasn’t very windy, but I was wearing these headphones that—for safety reasons—pick up outside noise really well. Unfortunately, the wind gets amplified and can sometimes make me feel like it’s worse than it is.) I slow slightly, but not much. Expectedly, the final repeats are the slowest, but whatever, I’m elated. I ran faster today than I did in a similar workout last fall, and not far off what I ran last spring. (Actually last spring’s tempo segments were slower, but the steady segments were faster.)

Again, say what?

I think my approach to the workout helped a lot; I didn’t expect much (I honestly expected to bomb), so when it started going well, it was much easier to hold on. (No negativity to make it spiral downward.) I also didn’t force the pace, but tried to relax and let it come to me. (Which works amazingly well, but is incredibly difficult. With low expectations, it’s easier.)

I’m still shocked I had that speed in me (so, I guess cross training works??) but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there’s a long way to go. But I did what I could, and it was pleasantly surprising.

Dream big,

Teal

Gratitude

I needed a new training log to kick off the new season, so this week I bought the Believe training journal. It’s more of a workbook/journal than most running logs and has lots of places to write goals and work through various aspects of your running game. Of course, it also has the space to record your daily progress, and it gives some suggestions about things you might want to track. Tucked in between the things I already log (workouts, pace, how it felt) and the other things I probably should (sleep, iron levels) was something I instantly knew I had to start tracking this season—gratitude.

Coming back from an injury, it’s easy to be gracious. When you’re hurt, you long for the wonderful amazingness of running. What you would give to just jog for a few minutes! When you’re allowed to run again, it’s pure joy. Yes, this is what you missed!! You’ll never take it for granted again!

But then, you know, you do it every day. And it gets kinda monotonous. Wouldn’t it be nice to skip it? Sleep in? Not put yourself through grueling race-pace miles wondering why the hell you do this to yourself?

Right now, I’m loving it, driven by a femur-induced absence that made my heart grow fonder. But I know those (literally) dark days will come.

And—as always—I’m going to go after PRs this season, and—as always—it will be tough. I’ve got a long road ahead and lots of challenging workouts to struggle through before I can expect to have a challenging workout I nail. But this season, more than any other, I want to be grateful the ENTIRE time. Because this season I have the opportunity to (a) run, (b) chase PRs, and (c) train to do both those things at a ridiculously prestigious race.

So I’m writing it all down. Each day, something I’m grateful for, running-wise. This week, I’m grateful for making it back to routes I’ve missed all summer, for the chance to run with teammates again, to cheer others on at the Army Ten Miler.

And I’m grateful for both new and old running logs. I happened to flip back through an old log to see what shape I was in this many weeks before my last successful marathon. It turns out that, this week, I ran the EXACT same weekly mileage and the same length long run at a similar pace. (Of course, then I was coming off a season of racing 5Ks, and this time I’m coming off a season of racing boredom in a pool, but SHH! We’re being grateful remember?! I am doing better at core and strength these days, so there’s a win.) I’m not as far behind as I thought, and I’m grateful for that.

Trying to stay this thankful for every run.

My mission won’t be easy. I can be am a bit of a brat. My optimism makes me expect too much, I compare myself to others (which serves no purpose but to stoke jealousy), and—on top of that—marathon training is capital E Exhausting. There will be cold, dark, icy mornings. Treadmill days. Bad races. Frustration. All those tough workouts where my goal paces seem far away.

But I want to be grateful anyway, for the bad days, the days I don’t want to go, the days the run doesn’t make me feel amazing. Because I get to run, I get to train for the Trials, and that’s capital A Awesome.

Dream big,

Teal

P.S. This is semi/kind of/okay, grasping-at-straws related, but my amazing cousin wrote a book called Choosing Hope that came out this week. (I’m choosing to be grateful…  See? It’s related.) I’ve just started it, but you should check it out. Her story and her attitude are truly inspiring.

Vacation: Rest and Relaxation... and Running

Two weeks ago I got to go vacation—got to spend an entire week with family, eating ice cream, relaxing on the beach. And I got to run four glorious times.

Running in Cape May, NJ 

Running on vacation might seem like a burden—it’s time to relax after all! But running on vacation can actually be a privilege, a chance to explore new places, scope out a town, find a stunning view. If you can squeeze runs in without messing up the plans of your family or co-vacationers, running while away can be a refreshing change and possibly add a new spark to your training.

It was easy to squeeze in a few jogs over the week, since I’m still not going very long and I’m blessed with a family that understands my running obsession. (It’s their fault—namely my sister’s—I got interested in running in the first place.) My husband even joined me on most runs, another benefit of vacation aligning our schedules (or rather, removing any set schedules).

The first morning we ran along the boardwalk—scoped out the shops and ice cream parlors, soaked in the sun and sea, smiled at the many other runners training for fall races and an entire field hockey team doing their running conditioning. It was nice to be back out in the world of runners, rather than stuck in a gym or the slow lane of the pool.

My two-year-old nephew leads me through a yoga sequence.

Other days we ran through trails that switched between sand and dirt to boardwalk and grass. Weaving in and out of woods on grass paths reminded us of running cross-country, and we swapped stories of high school XC practice. A few articles lately have discussed the reasons to love running cross country and I was reminded of all of them. It was nice to get away from the roads and get lost in the woods a bit. (And we did get lost the first time… and went a hair longer than we were supposed to, but my leg seemed not to mind a bit. The grass and trails treated it well.)

Although I still wasn’t going as far, as fast, or as often as I would have liked, I was happy to be able to run at all while there. If it’d been a few weeks earlier I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy those trails. I seemed to strike a perfect balance, just a couple relaxing runs while the rest of vacation I walked, biked, and paddle boarded. But mostly I sat around at the beach or at dinner with my family, enjoying vacation time.

Every runner's heaven:
a store dedicated entirely to peanut butter.

Now that I’m home, I feel like vacation is over in more than just the literal sense. My injury-induced vacation is over, too. This year, summertime was for getting over my injury and now fall is here. I’m healed (I've officially graduated from physical therapy) and I'm slowly increasing the running while phasing out the cross training.

Something about vacation seemed to snap me into a better mindset. Maybe I’ve gone back to denying how much work I have to do, but I’m really just getting excited to do it. Or maybe it was the cross country runs and the smell of fall in the air saying, “Vacation’s over, let’s get to work.”

Vacation's over, back to DC. But... it's not so bad.

Dream big, 

Teal

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