Victories and Struggles in 2013: A Year in Races

Running is a metaphor for life.  Some runs come effortlessly while sometimes it is a fight just to breathe.

Personally, 2013 held many blessings as well as many challenges.  I went back to work as a teacher (part-time) after being primarily a stay-at-home-mom for 11 years.  My father had open-heart surgery and was in and out of the hospital for eight weeks.  My son also had a major surgery.  In the middle of all this, I had the opportunity to be coached by an elite marathoner, and I took it.  I trained harder than ever before.  Over the course of the year, I really struggled to balance maintaining my home, family, lesson plans, grading, coaching, friendships, and running.  Lots of plates were spinning and at any moment, I felt like some, if not all, of them might come crashing down.  

In 2013, I ran exactly 13 races.  Some were more struggle than victory and some were more victory than struggle.  More than anything, though, it was a year of LEARNING.  I learned a lot about myself as a runner, probably more than any other year in my 6.5 years of running.  I learned quite a bit about myself as a human as well.  :-)

I started January of 2013 with an injury---a sprained ankle from the Flying Monkey Marathon in November of 2012.  I cross trained and ran lightly for about 10 weeks before I could resume normal training and run without pain.  I planned my “comeback” race as the Race Judicata 10K—in the same park, on the same hills that had broken me.    

•  Race Judicata 10K.  February.  Goals:  to run all the hills without walking (These hills are extreme!).  To run a 10:00 minute pace or better.   To not fall down.  Verdict??  Victory!  I met all my goals.  The course was actually short, but Michelle and I kept going until 6.2 on our Garmins.  Final pace was about 9:55.  I was happy.  It was a nice day with friends.  Andrea, Gena, Michelle, and I enjoyed the run.  

Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle  

• Re-Love Haiti 5K.  I helped set up this course this year.  It was mostly flat.  Race morning greeted the runners with snowfall—my favorite!   I just wanted a 5K baseline to see how much speed I’d lost with my 10-week injury.  Verdict??  Victory!   I ran well.  I enjoyed the falling snow. I got 3^rd in my age group and won a gift card to the Runner’s Hub!  It was a good day.

Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle

• LBL Trail 23K.  I was originally registered for the full trail marathon.  It was going to be my first trail full.  However, all that time off didn’t lend itself to being marathon ready by early March! I thought if I felt good, I might do the 2^nd loop and complete the full (hiking if nothing else).  However, on race morning, I decided I’d rather PR the 23K than just finish the full.  So, I went out hard.   I must have temporarily forgotten that my longest trail run had been about 6 miles.  My legs wrote a check that my fitness level couldn’t cash!  Then, around mile 6, I rolled that left ankle that HAD. JUST. HEALED.  It had only felt good for a few weeks.  I lost the mental battle right there.   I had already begun to feel fatigued, so the physical battle was going downhill fast.  I hiked.  A lot.  Finally, I completed the trail and just had the 1.5 miles on the road left to finish. Then I saw ye olde racewalker, whom I’d passed in mile one, up ahead.  And I couldn’t catch him.  He looked to be around 80, but had a smokin’ walking pace.  Humble pie.  Verdict?  More struggle than victory. 

  Victory----------------------------------------------X---Struggle 

•  Murray Half Marathon.  I was excited to run a new race in a new place!  I’d heard good things about the Murray Half, and it did not disappoint.  My goal:  2:10.  I even tried to run with the 2:10 pace group.   I was behind them, with them, and in front of them at various times.   I really enjoyed the course with its mix of country and city, hills and flats.   I ran every step of this race and finished just a few seconds over 2:10.   I’d have to call that a victory! 

Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle 

•  Backside Trail Marathon.  This was a rather spontaneous decision.  I saw this online one day and talked another runner into traveling with me.  I hadn’t put in anywhere near the trail miles I should have, but I did get in a few long road runs.   My first trail full will be forever memorable!  It rained and rained.   I skated through mud for about 20 of the 27 miles.   I crawled on my hands and knees up a muddy embankment.  I lost a shoe in the mud.  I pulled myself up an incline with a tree branch.  I tried not to slip down the embankment and fall in the river.  I ran probably 15-18 miles alone on an unfamiliar trail.  I kept thinking I was lost and backtracking to the last trail marker.  Then I actually got lost.  27 and change.   Almost, but not, the last finisher.  It was quite an adventure.  Many of those registered for the full dropped to the half due to the muddy conditions.  However, I was both determined and completely in over my head.  It took me over 7 hours, but I survived.   Victory!  

  Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle 

• Run Under the Stars 9.5 Hour Endurance Event.  I ran a personal long of 38.5 miles.  I never sat to rest.  I just ran and walked all night long.   Relentless forward progress.  My secret goal was to place in the top 10 women.  I was #8!   Victory!   Favorite event of 2013.  

Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle

•  Backass Jackal Trail Marathon.  I wanted another shot at a trail marathon.  This one was a loop course of around 3 miles.  It was a hot and humid June day.  The eventual winner lapped me.  TWICE!  But, overall, I enjoyed the adventure of it all and spent most of the day running alone in the woods.  I started my last loop really happy and having fun.  It didn’t exactly end that way, but it was a trail marathon PR nonetheless.   Hmmm….  Victory?  Struggle?   Somewhere in between.   This race qualified me for Marathon Maniac status (3 in 3 months), but I haven’t applied yet.  

Victory-------------------------X------------------------Struggle

•  Loonies Midnight Marathon.   After two tough trail marathons, I figured this one would be a piece of cake.   It wasn’t exactly cake, but it was a fun night, and I made a new friend.  Tim from Houston and I supported and encouraged one another, told stories, and laughed often for the last 20 miles, all while trying to finish under 5 hours.  4:57.  Victory!

Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle

•  Wild Thang 9-mile Trail Race.   Ran a long run of 16 on Thursday before this race.  That was a mistake.  Legs were good the first 4-5 miles.  Then…. Notsomuch.   Struggle.

Victory-------------------------------------------X------Struggle

•  The Murfreesboro Middle Half.   Goal race I had trained so hard for.   I just wasn’t feeling it that day.   Angry with myself and my body for failing me.  Struggled both mentally and physically.  Self-doubt.  Disappointment.  It was a new half marathon PR, but I didn’t break two hours, and that was my #1 goal.   Should be a victory, but sure didn’t feel like one.  Struggle.

 Victory-----------------------------------------------X--Struggle

•  Go Commando Half Marathon.  Just a week later.   Cold, pouring rain, big hills, but my soul was content.  Night and day in terms of attitude.   No self-doubt.  No negative self-talk.  8 minute PR over last year.   Ran every step of every hill.  Made a new friend to pass the miles with.  Finished strong.  Victory!

Victory-X------------------------------------------------Struggle

•  Bowling Green 26.2.  Another goal race for which I had trained hard.   Went out way too fast,  then fell apart mile by mile in the second half.   Just.... tired.   Achilles hurt from mile 11 on.  Didn’t even make my C. goal.   Hated nearly every minute of miles 11-26. There were tears and a complete loss of perspective.  Utter disappointment.   Struggle for sure.

Victory------------------------------------------------X-Struggle

• Walter White Memorial Marathon.   Ok race.   I would have liked to have run it faster.   My Achilles hurt again, and my legs just didn’t have much that day.  However, I wasn’t trying to PR, and I didn’t really care about my finish time.   Many miles of solitude.  Gained some perspective.   Victory or struggle?   Hmmm....  

Victory----------------------???-------------------------Struggle

More than anything, I end the year knowing this:  

Final race of 2013: The Walter White Memorial Marathon

On Sunday, December 1, I ran my final race of 2013, the Walter White Memorial Marathon.  According to the picture above, there were only 23 participants.  (See the lady in pink compression socks?  I'm behind her to the right.) I've never actually seen a single episode of Breaking Bad, so I didn't really get the clever costumes and cookies that a couple of participants contributed.  However, it was a Run It Fast Club event, I knew a lot of people running it, and it was a flat 2.9 mile paved trail through Pinson Mounds State Archeological Area that we would run NINE TIMES.  I felt like I didn't want my year to end with the Bowling Green Marathon, which didn't go well at all (there were tears).  I wanted a redemption race-- not a PR, but to finish the year running a race with a good attitude and with gratitude.  The flat part was appealing, too!  I snapped this as I rolled in about 10 minutes before the race start.  I've never cut it that close before!

Right after the group photo and with little fanfare, the race began.  I tried to just run relaxed.  The first two loops I had the good company of Sandy, new friend Donna I had just met that morning, and Anthony, with whom I'd also run the first loop of the Backass Jackal trail marathon in July.   I averaged about a 10:15 pace for the first 6 miles, smarter than the first six in Bowling Green, but still probably a bit fast. 

It was a pretty course on a cool, overcast fall day in West Tennessee.  This is one of maybe two tiny inclines:

 

Miles and miles of SOLITUDE.  This felt almost more like a solo training run!

 

I really enjoyed the scenery.  At least the first 4-5 loops.  Then, well......   I will say I got a little bored.  Perhaps lonely.  After the first six miles, I was a member of Run It Alone.  Honestly, it was a good time to do lots of thinking.  I had been dealing with some personal issues, and I really gained some nice perspective during that race.  I ran well the first 13.1 miles and hit the half-way point at 2:15.  However, fatigue hit about then as well as Achilles pain (again).  Starting in mile 14, I added some walk breaks.  Around mile 18, I really hit a wall.  Since I wasn't taking the race too seriously, though, I didn't  panic or beat myself up.  I started snapping pics and even posting on FB, running some, walking some.  I walked a TON between 20-23.  I spent time talking to God and focusing on being THANKFUL for being out in nature and for legs that could carry me 26 miles.  That was the epiphany of this race:   I need to be thankful that I can run marathons at all.  Even if my legs aren't carrying me as fast as I might like them to, I have no doubt I can finish.  And that is worth something.   I may be walking, but I look happy, don't I???

 

From what I could tell from looping, I was the 4th female going into my last lap.  (I think there were 9 of us, and two dropped during the race).  However, as I was leaving the turnaround, I passed the next female coming in, and she looked strong and was only about a minute and a half behind me.  That woke me up a bit.  I decided to try to run the entire last lap except those two tiny hills.  And I did!  It wasn't a stellar pace, but they were about 11:30 pace miles, and for me at the end of the marathon, that's not too bad!   I managed to roll into the finish at 4:56, about a minute faster than my Loonies Marathon (another looping course but much hillier and it was JULY in TN--HOT!!).  

 

So, out of 7 road marathons, it was the 3rd fastest.  I can live with that!  For me, anything under 5 hours is a pretty good day.  I WANT to break 4:30 badly, and I know it will come in time.   

 

December 1 was a turning point in my running life in many ways.  Perspective.  Understanding.  Epiphany.  Change in attitude and focus.  Who needs to wait until January 1? 

 

 

 



Running Free

I am happy to say I am running free these days.  A runner without a clue I mean plan.   Where am I going?  I don't know!  I don't care!

It is nice to run free again.  I go out my front door or meet up with friends and usually don't know how far, what pace, or even why.   I love it. 

I'm just running by feel, by mood, by weather.   Twenty degrees and 15mph wind?  Nothankyouverymuch. 

Training hard with a coach July 1- Nov 3 was fun and very challenging.  I learned so much.  My life was busy with balancing three part-time jobs, three kiddos, and mountains of laundry, but come hell or high water, I got it done.   Heck, I ran 160 miles in August alone.  Have you ever been to Tennessee in August?   It's not the ideal running month.   Let it suffice to say, there was much sweating and chafing and gnashing of teeth.

Now, I am enjoying the camaraderie of runs with old and new friends, the sound of leaves crunching under my feet on the trails, and the freedom to decide if I want (or need) a run that day.  It is glorious.

I love running again.  Thank God.  Honestly, I was kind of mad at it for a while.  But like all good relationships, running and I got past our differences and are moving on.  :-)

Bowling Green 26.2: A Memorable #11

I ran my 11th marathon/ultramarathon last Sunday.  It has taken me a week to process it and make peace with it.  

It was another hilly road marathon (why do I never choose flat courses??).   In the past, my road marathons have been

#1 Country Music Marathon in 5:17
#2 Mercedes Marathon (my least hilly) in 4:45:52
#3 Hatfield-McCoy (run/walk) in 5:09
#4 Ky Derby Marathon in 4:36
#5 Flying Monkey Marathon (sprained ankle during) in 5:03.
#6 Loonies Midnight Marathon in 4:57 (I think)

The other marathons were on trails and MUCH slower, and I've run one 50K and one 60K on gravel.  So, technically, this was only my 7th road marathon.  (It was my 5th mary/ultra since April though.)

I had been training for a 4:20 finish, and it was going well.  That pace felt do-able.  9:55.   That was my A-goal, but anything under 4:30 would have been good.  Anything under my PR of 4:36 would have been acceptable.  (Do others set an A-goal, a B-goal, and a C-goal?)   I trained for 16 weeks.  However, at the end of the training cycle, I somehow scheduled myself back-to-back half marathons, a week off, then this full.  When I signed up for the half-marathons, I was thinking the marathon was November 10 or 17 instead of 3rd.  Perhaps I should have checked more closely??? 

The first half-marathon on October 12 was a PR by 3 or 4 minutes.  The very next week (with no recovery at all from training), I ran another one and PR'd the course by 8 minutes on a TOUGH course.  I had never run half-marathons two weeks in a row before.  Then with one week to go, I did start backing off the mileage some, running a 10-miler with 8 at race pace the weekend before the marathon. 

But, frankly, I was WORN out by then.  I came through race week just fine with no nerves.  I felt tired, but the 9:55 pace should have come easily after half-marathons at 9:17 pace and 9:37 with little taper.  Or so I thought. 

On race morning, the goal was to start at a 10:00 minute pace, but I went out stupidly on this two-loop course.  I was overconfident.  I attacked the first 6 miles of hills.  Granted, two or three of these miles had significant down-hills, but at 6.5, my chip recorded a 9:46 average pace.   By mile 8, I was thinking, "Uh-oh, what have I done?"  At mile 11, my right Achilles tendon started hurting terribly.  It had bothered me once or twice during training, but not in a while.  I slowed down some, but was still pushing.  About that time, I realized I had run 3 races in 4 weeks.  It had never occurred to me until then.  How is that possible?   My Achilles and right foot both began to hurt.  I asked myself if it would be smarter to drop to the half-marathon and "live to run another day"?  Before I had a chance to think it through, I was there.

At 13.1, I crossed the mat at 2:10:50 or so.  I was still semi on pace for a 4:20, still, but I'd need to negative split it.  However, fatigue had started to creep in, and I was upon the hilly section again.  It just got ugly from there.  I remember thinking at mile 16, "Well, the Achilles hasn't ruptured yet!  Keep going."  Some miles it hurt; some miles it felt just tight and uncomfortable.   Until mile 16, I was still on track for a "good day," but by 18, the wheels fell off.  The wall reared its ugly head.  It became a complete struggle to run.   By mile 20, I knew my PR was gone.  I tried to Galloway it from there with a 4:1 (run four minutes, walk one), but running even 4 minutes felt impossible.  Around that time, I was overwhelmed with emotion-- sadness and disappointment.  I was also angry at myself for breaking the Cardinal rule "Don't go out too fast."  At mile 22, I cried briefly.   Luckily, I was alone on a quiet part of the course in a neighborhood.   I ran all of the last 6-7 miles solo (which is ok if you need to cry!)  I did feel better after crying a bit.

Finally, I was at mile 25.  I had a dour look on my face-- unsmiling, feeling sorry for myself, looking down at the ground as I ran.  I raised my lowered eyes for just a second, and I saw HER.   A woman in a wheelchair on the sidewalk was clapping her gloved hands, smiling, and cheering enthusiastically for me, saying, "You can do it."  She had come out to encourage the marathoners, had stayed on the cold course for four and a half hours, and she took time to remind this disheartened marathoner that I could run the last 1.2 miles, even though she could not. 

Tears immediately came to my eyes.  It was as if God was saying, "Get over yourself!!  You have completed 25 miles, and all you are doing is beating yourself up."   It was one of my defining running moments, one I will never forget.

My friend Diane Bolton surprised me just before mile 26 and ran with me (in her jeans!) for about a quarter-mile, and it was the boost I needed.  I finished 26.42 in 4:43:52, my second fastest marathon time, but one of the toughest mentally. 

My marathon training/travel buddy/great friend Andrea had a FANTASTIC first marathon and surpassed her goal.  My coach and his wife both WON their races.  I was really happy for all of them.

That right Achilles tendon and both feet have hurt this week.  I've been tired and emotional.  I have taken a full 6 days off from running.  It has been nice.  So much extra time!  Less laundry!

What's next?  I don't know.  I'd really like a do-over-- to run the 26.2 I know I have in me right now that reflects this tough training cycle.  But almost as importantly, I'd like to run one more with a good attitude, a smile, reflecting on the blessings in my life.

Two Weeks, Two Very Different Races! Middle Half vs. Go Commando Half

The Middle Half:  Losing the mental and physical battle

Last Saturday, I ran the Murfreesboro Middle Half, my goal half marathon of the year.  I'd been planning it for months.  I had a goal of sub-two, I hired a coach, and I trained harder than I'd ever trained before.  I basically poured everything into this one race. 

A week before the race, I had a HORRIBLE run (see earlier post).  I just felt "off."  The rest of the weekend and early that week, I felt unwell.  I had a headache for two days and no energy.  I assumed it was a cold and tried to sleep and rest as much as possible, eat healthy foods, and recover ASAP.  On the Wednesday before the race, during my final speed workout, my right shin started hurting.  For the first time since July 1st, I cut a workout short.  I had been following my training plan to the letter until that moment.  Confidence killer.

I iced and skipped Thursday's miles.  I lived in compression sleeves for two days.  I ran two gentle miles on Friday.  It felt better.  My stomach was in knots, however.  Something I ate?  Nerves?  I don't know.  That afternoon, my friends and I got a late start leaving town.  Then we hit traffic in Nashville.  It took us 40 minutes to get through downtown, usually a 10-minute drive, if that.  We literally arrived at packet pick up at 5:58 p.m.  It closed at 6:00.  It was close, but we made it (with some fabulous driving on my friend's part!).  Then it was time to find somewhere to eat and go to the hotel. 

We wound up at the Red Lobster across from our hotel.  Since I'm allergic to gluten, there were not a lot of choices.  I wound up with shrimp cocktail and a small baked potato.  I honestly didn't have much of an appetite. My stomach didn't feel well.  After dinner, we checked in to the hotel, and I began the pre-race ritual of figuring out which outfit to wear and getting Gu's, bib, fuel belt, etc. ready.  My stomach was bothering me more than earlier.  I was concerned.  We got to bed at a decent hour.   I slept some, but noticed that the right side of my back ached throughout the night.  The next morning, we got up and had breakfast.  My back still hurt, so I did some stretches, and  we were off.  I noticed on the way to the race that I felt strangely sleepy.  Usually on race morning, I'm either nervous or excited, but definitely energetic.  I just felt tired. 

We made it to the start and ran a warm up mile or so.  It was the perfect temperature, about 58 degrees and sunny.  Unfortunately, my sunglasses were in the car!  The coach had told me to start at a 9:00 minute mile, then drop to 8:55 or 8:50.   I needed to stay at 9:08 or better to be sub-two.  I wanted to allow a little wiggle room since 13.1 almost always winds up as 13.2 or more (it's impossible to run every tangent).   I knew it wasn't going to be a walk in the park.   Pre-race:  (me on right)

My friend Michelle and I started and the first mile was 9:00 minutes on the money!   It felt ok.  Not easy, not great, but ok.  I was trying to be optimistic.  The second mile was 8:58.   Then 9:04.  I was hitting my goal pace, but it was literally a battle each mile.  By mile 5, Michelle asked me how I was feeling, and I told her, "Not great."  I didn't want to whine, but I didn't want to lie.  Michelle was cruising, but I was struggling.  I held on through 7 miles.  Then the fight just became too much.  Michelle pulled ahead further and further.  (I wanted her to get her first sub-two even if I couldn't!)   It was heating up to the mid-60's.   I felt like I was SPRINTING in mile 8, but I only ran a 9:27 mile.  My breathing was ragged.  My form wasn't smooth.  I felt panicked.  Then mile 9 was a 9:27 pace as well, and I had to really fight for that.  I realized sub-two was gone.

I negotiated with myself.  I said, "Well, at least keep every mile under 9:30.  It'll still be a PR."  Mile 10 was 9:30 exactly, but mile 11 was a 9:33.  So I told myself, "I'll just keep every mile under my old PR pace, which was 9:34."  Then mile 12 was a 9:44 mile.  After that one, I told myself, "Crap, I don't even care anymore."  The FUNNY (or sad?) thing was, that all throughout mile 12, I could see the 2:00 hour pacer, and I was GAINING on her.   But I knew my Garmin wouldn't lie.  Then I passed her.   Apparently sub-two would elude us both.  I felt bad for her.  And she had to continue to carry that sign.  Finally, after the longest 13th mile ever (9:42 pace), I could see the finish.  My sprinting .1 was a 9:20 pace.  Not that sprinty at all. 

I finished 13.1 in 2:01:44 by my Garmin.  Official finish was 2:02:26, I think, for 13.21, a PR either way.  My old PR was 2:05.  All three of us actually PR'd on this flat, fast course.    

So, was it a VICTORY?  A PR should be a good day!  Right?  However, it felt much more like defeat, from about mile 3 on.  I don't know what was going on with my body and my mind, but neither felt very strong.  I didn't enjoy one second of this race.  I looked at my Garmin approximately 39 times--- at least 3 times per mile IF NOT MORE.  I didn't actually see any of Murfreesboro.  was the course pretty?  I. Don't. Know.  I was too busy staring down at pavement, looking at my watch, and feeling defeated.  When I got home, all the defeat apparently settled into my back because after a brief nap, the whole right side of my back became tight and painful every time I moved.  I spent the evening in bed with a heating pad and a bad attitude.  Can emotions settle into a muscle group?? 

Go Commando Half Marathon:  Good spirits, a new friend, bad weather, celebrating others, and redemption

My coach is a bit relentless with the marathon coming up.  You'd think I'd get to rest all week with another half the following Saturday.  But, he reminded me we can't taper right before the taper.  So I ran 2.5 on a trail the day after the Middle Half, rested Monday, ran 2 on Tuesday, 5.8 (speedwork!) on Wednesday, and 6 on Thursday.  By Wednesday, I'd made peace with running.  I even ran in the rain on both Wednesday and Thursday.  It was the cleansing my mind and spirit needed. 

This is my hometown race.  This is the biggest running event of the year.  Over the past four years, I've trained approximately 50-60 people for this race.  One of my funny FB friends posted to me "they should call it the Friends of Donna Pittman Half Marathon because you trained like half the people running it."  :-) 

All week I'd kept in contact with the 13 athletes in this training group.  On Thursday night, we all went to dinner.  They were in great spirits, and it was contagious.  They were ready and excited.  They gave me these sweet gifts for coaching: 

Coach Justin at first wanted me to try for sub-two again, but then I sent him the elevation profile.  Lots and lots of hills---long ones, steep ones.   He then adjusted that goal to 2:05-2:07.  That was so freeing.   I had no anxiety about making this goal.  I just planned to run HARD and see where the time fell.
 
After a great forecast all week, on Friday, suddenly there was a 30% chance of rain at the start.  I made sure my athletes were aware and prepared myself.  I was glad I'd already run in the rain twice this week.  

Race day dawned cloudy and cool.  I met up with several of my athletes for some group pics and high fives and felt happy, optimistic, and stress-free.   Don't we look happy? 

I started the race with one of my athletes, Matt,  and the first three miles went by quickly.  We were around a 9:20 pace.  My legs didn't feel fresh, but it wasn't a battle, either.   Around mile 2.5, we started chatting with an out-of-towner named Justin.  I'd met him right before the race when I commented on his Run365 race shirt.  We are members of the same Facebook group and had actually conversed once or twice on that page.  He had also run the Middle Half the week before, getting a PR of 2:13.

Matt soon left us, and Justin and I settled in to about a 9:30 pace, chatting about the FB group and races we'd done.  Around mile 5, we picked up Kelsen, another from my training group.  He is only 15 years old.  He was running strong.   It started to sprinkle around mile 3, but by miles 5 and 6, we had a downpour.  The temperature dropped into the upper 40's and the wind picked up.  Yet, despite the terrible weather, I was still having FUN.  My spirit was happy.  Miles would go by, and I wouldn't even look at my watch.  I kept saying hi to friends on the course and at water stops, and our little group--Justin, Kelsen, and I-- were the perfect pace buddies.   We chatted some, but mostly, we just ran.  We were on track for about a 2:05-2:06 finish, a big PR for Justin and way better than my 2:14 finish last year.  It was Kelsen's first, so automatic PR!  Here are Kelson and I around mile 7:

My little rule is that if I haven't walked through a water stop or up a hill by mile 8, I'm not allowed to.  The most BRUTAL hills of this course were in miles 9-12, but I stuck to that.  I used the mantra, "I'm a mountain goat" (Thanks, Joel Vallejo, for starting that one!) to get up them.   Last year, those hills reduced me to a walk.  Not this year.   Kelsen and Justin were strong on the relentless hills as well. 

That hilly back section was also the most scenic of the course.  At mile 9, the wind began to blow harder, and wet, golden leaves fell all around us like snow.  It was beautiful--one of those memorable running moments. 

Our group hung together until almost the end.  In that last mile, I gave it all I had left.  Mile 13 was a 9:20 pace.  I was happy my legs had something left.  I finished 13.1 at 2:06:26 Garmin time.   Chip time was 2:07:40.  (Again, I ran about 13.21.)   That was 8 minutes better than the year before and on tired legs following a PR effort!   A post-race pic with Justin celebrating his PR: 

Afterwards, I was happy, but FROZEN.  I couldn't stop shivering.  I eventually made it back home and ran a few more miles for 18 for the day.  I checked in with my athletes, and every single one finished!   I was so happy for them. 

It was a GOOD DAY. 

Hell-o, Taper!!   Thank goodness.  Bowling Green 26.2 is in 2 weeks. 

Every Mile is a Gift

 

I forgot this today.  I got too wrapped up in fatigue and humidity and stagnant air and how difficult my goal race pace for next weekend felt.  Anxiety sat heavily on my chest.  Self-doubt creeped in.  I finished feeling defeated instead of exhilarated.

 

I guess some runs are like that.  But not when we run grateful.

 

When we run grateful, we appreciate the scenery and the time spent outdoors.  We appreciate the company of the other runners joining us.  We appreciate the legs strong enough to carry us eight miles.  We appreciate our good health, our injury-free bodies.  We appreciate the loved ones who got the children up and dressed for soccer and to the soccer field on time, so we could get in our run and meet them there at the last minute.  We remember others who would LOVE to be in our shoes running at that very moment, but who, for whatever reason, cannot.   I hate that I forgot that today.

 

My goal race is next weekend, the Murfreesboro Middle Half.   I have been trying to improve my half-marathon time for two years.  I shaved it down to 2:05, but stalled there.  I really want to run a sub-2-hour half marathon.  We all have our goals, and that one is mine.  I have worked so hard since July 1 to make this happen.  I haven not missed a single mile on my training plan.  I have hit 85% of the splits I've been assigned by my coach, to whom I've paid money for four months.  It feels like there is a lot riding on this race.  Now, I just have to trust the training, trust the coach, and have faith in myself.

 

I didn't start today's run ungrateful.  I was running one of my absolute favorite routes.  I actually had a nice time chatting with the other runners before the run and enjoyed the first couple of miles crunching newly fallen leaves and clearing spiderwebs on a paved rail trail through the woods.  In the third mile, I was supposed to drop to half-marathon goal pace for two miles.  I was hoping it would just feel natural to run this pace I've been practicing.  (9:09 equals a 2:00 hour half, so I need 9:08 or better, technically.)   I ran them in 8:59 and 8:56.  But, WOW, I had to work for them.  A tough speed workout on Wednesday and a hilly one on Thursday had left my legs tired, dead, and achy.  In hindsight, I hadn't really hydrated as well as I could have these last couple of days, and it is possible I had too few carbs.  Whatever it was (whatever excuse fits??), it was discouraging.   All I could think of was, "Am I going to have to FIGHT for every single mile next Saturday to stay on pace?  Do I even have it in me to fight for 13 miles??"    

 

After mile four, I ran easy for a couple of miles, but I felt really unmotivated to keep running.  You know that saying that "Running is 90% mental?"  It is very possible that it is.  I ran/walked mile 5.  At one point at 5.5, I stopped to chat at length with another runner who was also having a bad day.  We were feeling equally defeated, I'd say, and neither of us was in any hurry to start running again. 

 

I finally made it through my two easy miles, then I was supposed to alternate 1/2 mile hard and 1/2 mile easy.  In that 1/2 mile hard, I struggled to get to the low 9's.   I finally finished that segment at 9:08 pace, barely within my half-marathon goal pace.  I walked most of the next half mile (technically cheating), then ran that last hard 1/2 mile.  Once again, the legs felt dead, and the mind felt defeated, but I got that segment in at about a 9:06 pace.

 

I'm hoping I can chalk it up to a bad day.  It's better to have a bad day today than next weekend!  My coach assures me I can run the half in under two hours, maybe even in the 1:56 range.  I think I have to change my mindset as much as anything.  I've run about 15 half-marathons, but I've run most of them "comfortably hard" (emphasis on the comfortably).   I did get fairly uncomfortable in the last 3-4 miles of my PR one about a year ago.  However, I'm looking at being uncomfortable pretty much all 13 of them this time.  

 

Must be why they call it a race.   Good to know. :-)

 

 

 

Redefining My Limits!

I started training with elite marathoner Justin Gillette on July 1, 2013.  The past 10 weeks have been very eye opening! 

The top 20 things I’ve learned from training with Justin Gillette these past 10 weeks:

1.       I’ve learned to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. 

2.      I’ve learned that sixteen 400’s won’t kill me.

3.      I’ve learned that the first mile repeat is always the hardest and slowest. 

4.      I’ve learned that you can add quality minutes and miles into your long runs instead of just long, slow distance runs. 

5.      I’ve learned that about 40 miles a week is the fine line between overtraining and training just enough…. for me, anyway.

6.      I’ve learned that preparation for a 20-miler is 90% mental.

7.      I’ve learned that I don’t want to disappoint my coach by not hitting the paces he has assigned.

8.      I’ve learned that I don’t want to disappoint myself as well. 

9.      I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I thought I was.

10.   I’ve learned that having a coach means that no thinking is required.  Read the training plan and just do it.  Thank you, Nike, I finally get it.

11.    I’ve learned that elite marathoners are people, too.

12.   I’ve learned that while I thought he had too much faith in my abilities when I first saw the training plan, I just had too little.

13.   I’ve learned that getting the training run in is more important than laundry but less important than my kid’s soccer game.

14.   I’ve learned that sometimes I have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to make it all work. 

15.   I’ve learned that much of running really is mental.  If your brain tells your legs to run faster, they usually will.

16.   I’ve learned that I feel equal parts crazy person and badass when starting a 20-miler before dawn.

17.   I’ve learned that earning praise from your coach goes a LONG way. 

18.   I’ve learned that if you run in the evening and are heading back out the next morning, showering is optional.  (The husband may not agree….)

19.   I’ve learned that I have the ability to embrace suffering and finish a workout, even when I’m not feeling it.

20.  I’ve learned that redefining my limits is money well spent.

Obsession? Devotion? Addiction?

I can’t explain it.

Where does this relentless need inside of me to run far, to test my limits, to fully and completely exhaust myself come from??   It seemed to materialize out of nowhere. 

I grew up obsessed with academics, not athletics.

My family members worked and worked hard, but never “worked out.”

I was a teacher and a wife and then a stay-at-home mother, not an athlete. 

But six years ago, something clicked.  That first mile run changed me, and quickly became 3, then 6, then 13, then 26.   Soon I had to know what it felt like beyond 26.  Now, I know how 31 and 38 feel.  Honestly, not that much worse.  As ultramarathoner Ann Trason says, “It hurts up to a point, and then it doesn’t get any worse.”   I want to experience 40 miles, 50 miles, and probably someday, I’ll want to run 100.  (Which is a really ridiculous premise when you think about it.)

This drive to run defines me.  When I run into friends at the grocery store, “Are you still running?” or “What are you training for?” are the first questions, even before, “How are Chris and the kids?”  People mainly try to relate to me through running.  It makes me feel a bit one-dimensional at times.   I posted a picture on Facebook that said, “Running isn’t my life, it just enriches and enhances the life I have.”  A good friend (who is also very honest) replied, “You sure about that?” 

At my twenty-five year high school reunion last weekend, a friend asked, “So how many miles did you run today before you came here?”  (The answer was 14.)   Another one told me that of everyone in our senior class, I was the last one she’d have picked to be running marathons in my 40’s.  I laughed and had to agree. 

Speaking of the 40’s, next week is my birthday.  Not a major one, no new age group or anything.  I am patiently waiting for that 45^th one though, because then I can fathom the remote possibility of qualifying for Boston (I would still have a LONG way to go pace wise…. I mean a really, really LONG way to go). 

For now, I’ll just accept my little running obsession.  It has grown to be an inherent part of me, part of my soul.  I have an intense need to be outdoors, to move, to feel the sun on my face and the ground under my feet.  I have to set goals and fight to achieve them to feel complete. I pray that my priorities aren’t too skewed, that I’m not neglecting the things that matter for this thing that drives me.  Right now, I'm trying to find that happy medium, to strike a balance.   Work. In. Progress. 

 

20 Miles with a Stranger: Loonies Midnight Marathon Race Report

Last Friday night/Saturday morning, I ran the Loonies Midnight Marathon. The race was in a tiny little town called Livingston, TN about two and a half hours away.  Coach Justin had me run it as a training run only, not a race.  I had already run 40 minutes on Monday, strength trained/run 2 miles on Tuesday, done an extremely difficult speed workout of 7 miles on Wednesday, then run 5 miles on Thursday.   I had already had a FULL week of running by the time Friday rolled around.  This is not the way I usually taper for a race!  I guess, technically, I did have a rest day on Friday, but my legs were anything but "fresh."

I went down to Cookeville, TN, late on Friday afternoon, checked into a hotel, and met some Run It Fast Club people for dinner.  It was a really nice group, and I met four or five new people.  (I'm in the green shorts near center.)

 Then I went back to my room to relax for a little while and dress in VERY bright, reflective attire.  At 10:00 p.m., I headed to the race start, about 25 minutes away.  It felt strange to leave for a race at 10 at night!

The race got a bit of a late start.  Around 12:05 a.m., we sang the National Anthem.  We had a pre-race prayer.  Then we listened to a bagpipe rendition of "Amazing Grace" in honor of those lost and injured at the Boston Marathon.  Then we sang "Sweet Caroline," a Boston tradition.  That was pretty fun.  Finally, near 12:15 a.m., we started.

The race began with the firing of several muskets.  We started with a 1.2 mile loop that brought us right back to the start.  I ran alone for most of the 1.2 mile loop--kind of behind a big group of people and ahead of a big group of people.  I kept finding myself at a 10:10-20 pace, which I knew was a little fast.  I tried to slow it down a bit.    Near the end of it, my friend Clark from RIF and his dad caught up to and then passed me.  We chatted briefly.  Then it was time to start the first of my five 5-mile loops.  

That first loop was LONELY.  I found myself running solo again.  It was all a little surreal:  here I was in the middle of the night running through this sleepy little town I'd never seen before, past dark houses, down quiet back streets, up hills and down hills in silence, in darkness, in humidity so thick, it hung as a dense fog all around.   I was following reflective spray paint or volunteers' instructions to make the many, many turns as there wasn't anyone in view in front of me.   Once I heard a man huffing and puffing and coming up to me from behind, and it was almost eerie.  He passed me and then led us the wrong way briefly at a confusing intersection, but a policeman talking on his cell phone happened to notice and correct us.   Other than the runners and volunteers, the city felt a bit deserted.  There was a guy picking a banjo at one intersection.  There was one local sitting on his front steps spraying a hose into the air for us to run through.  There was another local just sitting in a lawn chair.  When I thanked him for being out, he just giggled.  I think his cigarette might have been of the herbal variety. 

After completing my first loop at a 10:40 pace, I noticed a young man walking for a second just ahead.  He started running right before I pulled up alongside him, never even noticing me.   I hung back just behind his right shoulder--DRAFTING!  It was so nice to not be alone anymore, to not have to think, "Am I going the right way?  Where is everybody??"  I just followed his lead.  Sometimes on an uphill, I'd pull up beside or even ahead of him, but then on the downhill, he'd pass me back up, but just a little.  It felt like we were racing!    Finally, after about 2 miles of this, I initiated conversation.  "I've never drafted anyone before.  I hope you don't mind!"   Then for the next 18 miles, we talked.  And talked.  And supported one another.  And encouraged one another.  And shared suffering. 

I'm terrible at guessing age, and I was surprised to learn Tim was only 27 years old.  A quick calculation told me I was old enough to be his mother, technically.  (I'm 42.)  He'd been running marathons since the age of 18, which is pretty amazing.   What would a 42-year old and a 27-year old talk about for four hours?  Tons!   We talked about races, running, family, teaching, coaching, his girlfriend, and more.   He is an 8th grade math teacher in Houston.  I was an 8th grade English teacher when I was his age.  He's a running coach.  I'm a running coach.   We just found plenty of common ground.  The miles passed wonderfully.  Once, he had to stop to go to the bathroom, and so did I.  He finished before me and WAITED for me.   I kept telling him to run on if he needed to, but he didn't want to.   So, we stuck it out.  For a total of 20 miles.   It saved my race!

We had run loop 2 a little fast, and that as well as my miles earlier in the week started to catch up to me in loop 4--around mile 18 or 19.  Tim was feeling tired, too, having run a marathon the weekend before and hiked 30+ miles in the Smoky Mountains all week.  He estimated at that point we could run 12- minute miles and still finish under 5 hours.  We were relieved as we were getting tired.  Then we clocked a 12:15 mile.  Oops!  Too relaxed!!  We had started walking the three biggest hills and through the water stops.  Maybe we dawdled a little too long at one of them.  After that, we were all about finishing under 5 hours.  We were determined afresh.  Focused.  It was time to start to dig.

By the time we started loop 5, the final loop, my legs were very tired and I was losing the mental game.  I half hoped he'd go on ahead, so I could walk a lot more often.  But he didn't, so I didn't.   He would only let us walk certain hills, and then only after we reached a point about 1/3 up.   I had to turn on my music at around mile 21, and that helped energize me a bit.  I felt like he was carrying me along, but it was actually pretty mutual.  His Achilles started bothering him badly around mile 23, and I was feeling ok.  It was my turn to be the pacer, then encourager.   We brought it home to the finish.  I ran hard at the finish line, thinking he was with me, but actually finished before him by several seconds.  I was sure he'd finish beside me, but he just didn't want to sprint with that Achilles.   I gave him a really sweaty hug at the finish and told him I could not have run a 4:57:04 alone.   I know without my buddy, I would not have broken 5 hours on those tired legs.   I would have walked much, much more.  But I had it in me all the time.

Sometimes the mental game is the hardest game of all.

I saw young Tim just once after the finish. He was getting in his car to drive back to Houston.  I wished him well.  I'm sure I'll never see my friend again, but I hope he knows how much he helped me.  Throughout the race, the running community supported one another.  I tried to say something encouraging each time I saw a runner I knew (I knew about 15 on the course), and many of them encouraged me.   That is the beauty of running.

Twenty miles with a stranger?  Not strange at all. 

Marathon/ultramarathon #10 in the bag.