Trail Dawgs Triple Crown Trail Race – Race Report

Three trail races – half marathon, 10K, 5K. Two short breaks – if you run fast enough. One morning. That is the idea behind the Trail Dawgs Triple Crown Trail Run. http://www.triplecrowntrailrun.org/

I arrived at White Clay Creek State Park in Newark, DE without incident just before 7 in the morning. I had a half an hour to get my race bib and packet and get settled before the start of race #1 – the half marathon. Not long after I arrived and received by race bib, my parents, who drove all night to run the third and final race of the day, pulled up. We said our hellos, hit the restroom, chatted for a bit and then it was time for me to line up for the half.

All the runners congregated at the top of a grassy hill next to the picnic area and waited as the race director first spray painted a line in the grass (the starting line) and briefed us on some pre-race instructions – run, follow the red then blue pie plates, enjoy the stream crossings and have fun. Then we were running!

It was in the 40s and overcast so I made the decision to pin my race bib with my three small tear away tags, one for each race, to my running skirt rather than my tank top or long sleeve shirt. I made the right decision, even though it did warm up slightly about half way through the half, we weren’t out in the sun for long and the long sleeves were nice in the shade of the trees and slight breeze.

We started the half bunched up but soon entered the woods so the single track trail forced us in to a single-file line. About a half mile in to the race I found myself behind an older gentleman with a navy headband and black calf compression-sleeves. He was setting a nice pace so I fell in line behind in and stayed there until mile 3.

The full marathon started 10 minutes after the half so I was expecting to be passed by marathon runners all day and the full marathon leader came ripping down the trail about 22 minutes after we started (only 10 after he did…he was flying) and there was a steady stream of “on your lefts” and “runner passings” for the rest of the race.

Around mile 3, we came to a creek crossing and I lost my pacer in the shuffle across the water. The water was about knee high and quite cold. I made it through without slipping and only noticed my wet shoes and socks for a few minutes after I got back on the trail. However, note to self, investigate wool socks, they will probably be more comfortable and dry faster.

The next four miles I followed the red pie plates, occasionally passing people but usually getting passed by the marathoners and walking up the steeper hills but keeping a steady pace on the downhills and flat bits. We hit a few aid stations along the way where I grabbed either water or Gatorade depending on how I was feeling (usually water) and a handful of goldfish crackers at each. This section of the trail also brought us out in to some fields for short periods and it was nice to warm up (and dry out a bit) in the sun. I was also on the look out for blue pie plates that signaled that we were on our way back toward the finish.

Before too long, I found the blue pie plates and got a little kick in my stride that always comes when I know I’m on my way back. Over the hills, through the woods…and over the fallen trees and through the mud…to the finish line we ran.

Around Mile 10 we circled back to the creek and by this time the water was higher than mid-thigh and even reached the bottom of my running skirt. The water was still cold but it actually felt great on my tired legs.

I reached this point after about 1 hour and 52 minutes of running and if I had just been running the half, I would have felt great about my time. However, I had a 10K to run in 38 minutes and I was hoping to have a break between the races. Over 3 miles of trails in 38 minutes was going to be rough. I knew I had to save something for the two other races I would be running but I also didn’t want to start the 10K late (its allowed but my goal for the day was to start all three races on time). I pushed just slightly on the flats (felt good) and downhills (felt, not as, good). I ran some of the smaller up hills but there was a long-ish climb about halfway between the creek and the finish line that seemed to go on forever. I power hiked up that hill, praying to see the top soon.

Finally, the top came and I took off, knowing that the finish line had to be close. I ran in to mud, deceptively hidden under the grass and my shoes were soaked for the third time that race. Sploosh! Sploosh! I didn’t even try to avoid the puddles.

I was listening hard for the cheers that would mean the finish line was, pushing the pace, watching my time. I had hoped to finish the half in 2:15 but that time came and went sometime in the mud. Then, up ahead, a dirt-bare hill, through the trees and the final turn before the finish. Just as I reached the top of that hill, with a few fans cheering on the runners, one shouted, “Final turn. Go catch him!” There was a tall guy about 10 seconds ahead me and my initial thought was, “No way. I have to run two more races today” but then my competitive spirit got the better of me and I slowly reeled him in as we made our way to the finish. At the last second, I felt bad about blowing past this guy right at the line so I slowed a bit and we crossed the line at the same time – 2 hours and 25 minutes.

Thank goodness that’s over, I thought. But, of course it wasn’t and the 10K race was lined up right next to the half marathon finish line so I let the volunteers tear off my half marathon tag, found my parents, sipped some water, told them I was feeling tired but OK, took off my long sleeve shirt and got in line for the 10K start, which I expected any second.

Four minutes and 19 seconds after finishing the half, I started running the 10K. I was tired and I was having some pain on the outside of my left knee (Where did that come from?) but I was having fun. The 10K course was the last three miles of the half course, running back out to the creek crossing and then cutting back to the first three miles of the half course. It was fun running the opposite direction of the full and half marathoners still running, giving them encouragement. It is one of the things I adore about trail runners, everyone is supportive – I said as many “good jobs,” “keep it ups,” and “looking strongs” as were said to me.

Another advantage of the 10K course is that I had already run the course once so it felt familiar. Just run to the creek and then come back, I told myself. That’s all.

As I took off for the start of the 10K, I told my parents to start the 5K on time and I would try to catch up with them if I didn’t finish the 10K on time, which seemed more and more likely. However, I knew I’d be upset with myself if I didn’t make it for the start of their race and I really want to run (or at least, start) with them so I used that as motivation to push through the 10K. I walked the bigger uphills but I kept a steady, strong pace the rest of the time.

Finally, I came out of the woods, power hiked up the last, grassy hill, saw the finish line and ran. I finished race #2 in 1 hour 11 minutes, just as the race director announced that there were only three minutes to go before the start of the 5K. My mom came running over, “you made it, we’re just lining up over here.” I joined the crowd for the 5K start feeling tired but thrilled that I had achieved my goal.

And then we were off and running the final race of the day. Dad was running a run / walk schedule but Mom was going to see how much she could run. I told her I would let her pull me along and for a half mile that plan worked out great. However, we came to the first hill and I knew I had to walk so I watched her ran away from me. I kept an eye on her but after the turn for the 5K cut off I lost sight of her. Oh well, I’ll see her at the finish.

I ran along the, now familiar, trails, enjoying the lack of pressure and time-crunch of this last race. I took my time and just went by feel, happy to not once glance at my watch. As I got closer to the finish, I caught sight of Mom up ahead quite a ways just as I hit the mud. I toyed with the idea of just taking it easy but then I decided that, if I could, I’d like to cross the finish line together. I picked up the pace and slowly reeled her in, finally catching up with her about a half mile to the finish. We ran up the last hill, made the final turn and saw the finish line. We decided to pick up the pace to squeak in under 40 minutes.

We grabbed some water and went back to the finish line to cheer Dad in for his finish. We didn’t have long to wait and he soon came out of the woods, running strong. “Yay, go Dad! Looking good! Finish strong!”

Everyone had a good race and I couldn’t have been happier that they came so far just to run a race with me. Eating our hamburger and hot dogs, chatting about our different races – when we walked or didn’t, who we passed, where we ran through the mud, leapt over logs and almost got lost – I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end the race and celebrate the day.

Trail Dawgs Triple Crown Trail Race Result – 4 hours 25 minutes, including three races and the two short breaks in between

Pros:
• Gorgeous trails to run along
• Well marked course
• Excellent volunteers
• BBQ at the end was delicious
• Perfect running weather – 50ish and overcast
• Fun, unique race set up – something to for everyone

Cons:
• If I have to have one, and its minor, I wish the shirt was more distinct and not cotton. I’d rather let the shirt do the bragging for me that I had run 3 races in one afternoon.

Charleston Marathon: Race Report

The title of this race report should be:  “Just Run” she says.  Or, why a 30 year old woman should still listen to her mother.

Marathon number six is in the books.  It will be known as the race of constant calculations.  Also, it felt like my strongest, and most smartly run, race. 

Going in the Saturday’s race I had plenty of self-doubt and I was just too much in my head about it.  Attempt a sub-four or not?  Am I ready?  Did I train enough?  Blah blah blah.  What good was all that second guessing going to do for me? 

On the drive to Charleston I spoke to my mom on the phone, who tells me, “I was yelling at you.  Well, not at you.  I was yelling at your blog.”  “Just run the race,” she went on to say, “who cares about all that other stuff.  I mean, just run.” 

To be honest, I was a little taken aback.  Those were my real feelings.  My real doubts.  My real fears.  And, here was someone telling me that they don’t matter.   But, of course, she was right.  You should always listen to your mother, why fight it?  All I needed to do was show up on race day and run.  And then, I started feeling a little silly about it all. 

“…you just have to start running and take it from there”  I decided to quit worrying about it and just show up on race day and run the race that was in me on that day.  Just run. 

I slept OK the night before the race.  I was getting up every 2 or 3 hours to use the bathroom because I was determined to be as hydrated as possible.  Also, I woke up at 5 and couldn’t get back to sleep even though I still had another 1.5 hours before I had to get ready.  I did manage to doze on and off and finally got up at 6:30. 

I made the decision to wear my running skirt instead of capri tights.  It was in the mid-30s that morning but it would be up in to the 50s about 2 hours after the race started.  I decided to sacrifice a little warmth at the beginning to ensure I didn’t overheat.  This was definitely the right decision.  I ate an orange and sipped a little more water before leaving the hotel for the starting line.  I had a few bites of a bagel and a banana on the car ride over, trying to strike that delicate balance between fueling and actually eating. 

Parking was easy and before too long, I was waiting at the start line with my fellow marathoners, both half and full.  The pacers for this race had balloons tied to them so they could easily be spotted and I planted myself a few yards behind the yellow 4:00 marathon pacer and in line with the two blue 2:00 half marathon pacers.  Well, this should be easy, just follow the balloons.

I ate a gel just before the race started and then suddenly I was running marathon #6.  As I learned from my last marathon, I needed to let everyone pass me for the first few miles so I settled in a comfortable pace and just let the rest of the runners sprint off.  I planned to let the first mile set the tone.  I ran comfortably and didn’t push the pace and hit the first mile marker 9:253.  Well, that didn’t feel too hard, I thought, what happens if I push just a little.    Without much more effort I ran mile 3 in 9:02.  That felt about right! 

The beginning of the race

  

The first few miles of the race were in downtown Charleston, which was very neat to run through.  There were plenty of spectators out braving the cold temps and it felt good to be cheered along as I found my rhythm.  However, by mile 4 we were heading out of downtown and I focused on my next milestone – gel #2 at mile 6.  I hit that water stop, sucked down the gel, gulped the water and was quickly on my way and on the look out for milestone #2 – my personal cheering squad at mile 9.5.  Each of these miles ticked by quickly with a short hill around mile 8, really the only notable incline of the race.  I was encouraged by the splits I was running:  all of them in the vicinity of 9:00 to 9:10 a mile.  Just where I wanted to be. 

I spotted my husband and friends at 9.5 and got some great energy from the as I ran by.  Wow, I’m 10 miles in to this race and feeling great.  Next up, I set my sights on gel #3 at mile 12. 

This would be the “longest” section of the race mentally as I wasn’t going to have my next milestone until I saw my cheering section again at Mile 21.  The course at this point twists and turns through North Charleston, which many runners don’t like but I found the route easy to follow and encouraging.  I was able to see parts of the course ahead of time and it was rewarding when I would reach them a short time later. 

The volunteers throughout this race were great but I think they were particularly so during these middle miles.  One of the things I loved about the race organization is that they printed our names on our bibs so it was cool to run up to a water stop and have the volunteer shout, “Way to Becki.  Looking strong.”  It seems like such a small thing to have the added bonus of your name thrown in to a shout of encouragement but it helps – big time. 

I was cruising along, hitting approximate 9:00 miles through about mile 15 and then I hit a very slight fade and slipped to 9:10 to 9:15 pace.  Absolutely no big deal but I had already begun the calculations. 

This whole time I had kept the blue 2:00 half marathon balloons within sight and only occasionally saw the yellow 4:00 marathon balloon.  I didn’t worry too much about that yellow balloon because the blues told me I was maintaining the right pace and I convinced myself that the yellow balloon had just gone out at too fast a pace.  The blue balloons peeled off at Mile 11 to finish their race and I ran for quite some time without seeming the yellow balloon.  I hit Mile 13 in 1:58 or so, which put me right at a 4 hour marathon without factoring in a fade and each mile after that I added up the time in my head, calculated the time left, just to reassure myself that my math was still right and 4 hours was still a possibility – yellow balloon or no yellow balloon. 

Although I had slowed just a hair, by Mile 17 I caught sight of that yellow balloon again.  It was getting closer.  Slowly and ever so slightly but it was definitely getting closer.  (You can see in my mile splits I actually picked up the pace back to sub 9:10 pace – wanting to catch that little yellow balloon put a fire in me early).  Just stay on it and slowly reel it in, I told myself, just be patient. 

With my eyes on that balloon, I ran toward my cheering section at mile 21.  This was my last milestone before the finish line.  My legs were starting to feel the miles but I was still feeling comfortable in my pace.  As I saw my cheering squad, I shouting, “I NEED to catch that STUPID yellow balloon!”  I didn’t realize how much that little balloon was impacting me until that shout came spitting out of my mouth.  A fellow runner laughed and shouted, “that’s right, go get ‘im!”  That was all I needed.  I grabbed the banana that my crew was holding out for me (per instructions – late race banana hand offs are essential) and took off. 

"I NEED to catch that STUPID yellow balloon"

The banana hand off just before I began to chase the balloon

I pushed.  The remaining 5 miles of the course was an out and back.  I just had to catch that balloon, make it to the turn around and hold on until the finish.  I pushed and pushed.  The yellow balloon got closer and closer.  And yet, the out portion of the course seemed to go on forever.  Also, I started noticing how many people were dressed in tights, long sleeve shirts, winter hats, etc.  It seemed that everyone had a shirt or jacket tied around their waist.  The temperature had gone from mid-30s in the morning to the 50s.  An overheated, death march on a lonely strip of road with little crowd support was not the ideal way to run the final miles of the race but I had dressed for this last section and didn’t feel the heat as much as some.  Just “follow the yellow balloon” I reminded myself. 

(However, my favorite part of the race happened on the way out:  there were several bands along the course and just before mile 22 there were two guys, one on a keyboard and the other with a mike.  As I ran by, I hear the guy sing, “hey there, runner girl in the purple shirt, I love you in your running skirt.”  I blew him a kiss.  He deserved it.)

Singing distractions aside, I was totally focused on catching the yellow balloon but I also had my eye out for the turn around.  Where was it?  Finally, I caught and passed the yellow balloon just as we made the turn around.  I just needed to hang on, not let that balloon pass me and finish this race. 

Oh, but my strength was very quickly draining away.  I was no longer focused on something tangible and the finish line seemed to never come.  I ran and ran and ran but it didn’t seem to do any good.  Just before mile 24 I heard two sets of feet coming up fast behind me and I prepared for the worst – seeing that little yellow balloon pass me and not being able to do a thing about it.  Luckily, it wasn’t the balloon so I let the two runners go.  Just hold steady, I told myself but I couldn’t help worrying that I had made my surge too early, that I wasn’t patient enough and I should have just stayed with the balloon until I got closer to the end rather than try to be a hero and bury it on the course behind me. 

Just run, I repeated over and over.  It is almost over.  You’ve got it.  Do the math.  I did the math.  I was cutting it close but under 4 hours was still possible.  Mile 25 – done.  One more mile marker to go. 

(To anyone else this race was not nearly as dramatic as it was in my head).

I saw my crew again before making the final turn and they were so excited.  “You did it.  You caught the balloon.  Yayayayay!”  But I didn’t feel excited.  I just wanted to be done.  Where’s the turn for the finish, I asked.  “Its just up there.  You’re so close.  You’ve got it.”  I didn’t feel like I had anything but I kept running.  Just run, I repeated, just finish this thing.

 

I did not feel as happy I look in this picture taken just before Mile 26 (Note the tiny yellow balloon in the background)

Mile marker 26 finally came and my watch read 3:58.  I had 2 minutes to run .2 miles and finish under 4 hours.  More math.  It’s possible.  I can do it.  Just keeping running.  I made the last turn and finally saw the finish line.  As I got closer, I saw the clock and it read 3:59:something so I started sprinting.  I didn’t want to just run a 4 hour marathon according to my chip time, dammit if I was going to do it, I wanted that clock to read 3-something.  I surprised myself with an awesome finishing kick. 

I sprinted past the spectators lining the last few yards and they erupted in shouts and cheers.  I was the only runner crossing the finish line and the announcer started shouting, “And she’s going to make it under four hours.  She’s sprinting it in under four hours.  Becki has finished the Charleston Marathon in under four hours.  Way to go Becki!”

The triumphant finish

Best.  Finish.  Ever.  I felt like I had won the race.  I can’t imagine that the actual winners got any better a reception as they crossed the line. 

I crossed the finish line at 3:59:33 with a chip time of 3:59:06. 

Tired.  A little nauseous from sprinting.  Satisfied.  That is how I felt as I accepted my race medal and met up with my cheering squad. 

Me and the best support crew ever (minus my favorite supporter who is taking this picture)

The smell of the free shrimp and grits was very unappealing but I happily accepted the free Fat Tire beer at the finish festival.  I also bought a hot dog and some cookies from the food truck and gobbled them down.  Great, unhealthy but totally yummy, way to celebrate a great race and my first “3:something” marathon finish. 

   

Pros:

• Charleston is a great place to visit and the city came out to support the race festival
• The marathon was part of a whole race festival so there were distances for everyone to run – youth marathon, 5K, 10K, Half Marathon, Full Marathon and even a Bike Ride the following day.
• Even though this was the first year for the marathon, the organization was excellent
• Volunteers and water stops were run well
• Chip was attached to the back of the race bib so no need to untie shoes or return chips at the end of the race.
• Free beer is always a good thing

Cons:

• The course was supposed to have water stops with GU during the last miles – either it was gone by the time I came through or I missed it (or it was never there)
• The final 5 miles out-and-back was confusing since we were never sure which side to run on
• I hate when races take you right by the finish line in the late miles of a race – it is a special kind of torture to tempt us with stopping when we have another 5 miles to go (and many people are hitting the wall)
• The only free food at the end of the race was shrimp and grits.  Other runners seemed to be enjoying it.  I wanted something else.

Miles Splits:

Miles 1 and 2 – 18:50 (I remember my watch read 9:23 at the first mile marker but I forgot to hit the lap button)

Mile 3 – 9:02

Mile 4 – 9:23

Mile 5 – 8:53

Mile 6 – 9:10

Mile 7 – 8:58

Mile 8 – 9:00

Mile 9 – 8:59

Mile 10 – 9:04

Mile 11 – 9:00

Mile 12 – 9:08

Mile 13 – 9:04

Mile 14 – 9:00

Mile 15 – 9:13 (started to fade a bit)

Mile 16 – 9:12

Mile 17 – 9:13

Mile 18 – 9:09

Mile 19 – 9:12

Mile 20 – 9:08

Mile 21 and 22 – 17:54 (average 8:57, the great yellow balloon chase began)

Mile 23 – 8:58

Mile 24 – 8:55

Mile 25 – 9:22 (balloon motivation starting to fade)

Mile 26 – 9:17

Last .2 – 1:48

Finish Time:  3:59:06

Veteran’s Day 10K – A Race Report

Or, a lesson in how to overdo it.

Who knows where thoughts come from?  They just appear. 

Sometime on Saturday, I decided that I was going to run to the race on Sunday.  I could have ridden my bike or taken the metro, although that would have been cutting it close since the race started at 8 and the metro didn’t open until 7:30.  I thought back to the GCF Half Marathon last November and thought, What the heck?  Why not?

The few problems with this idea – this race being a time trial to judge my current fitness during this marathon cycle and that weekend’s schedule being a cutback week in terms of my overall training schedule, to name a few – didn’t seem to deter me.  I rationalize them out of existence, telling myself that with my left shin bothering me I probably wasn’t going to get a PR or have a good time trial so why not get some more miles on my feet since I missed a few runs last week. 

Plus, how bad ass is it to run 5.5 miles to a race, race it and then run back!

I woke up Sunday morning, got dressed and ready for the race, ate a banana, drank a glass of water, and headed out the door with a bagel in hand to munch on as I ran.  As I ran through the quiet Arlington streets I wondered how many people noticed me running by with a bagel in one hand and a race bid pinned to the front of my shirt and wondered what I was up to. 

I made it to West Potomac Park, about 5.5 miles from the house, in exactly 1 hour.  Not overly speedy but definitely a good warm up.   As I ran I questioned whether I was going the right thing?  Whether I should even shoot for a PR (faster than 8:19 pace)?  Maybe I should just enjoy the crisp fall weather and be happy with that?   If I didn’t get a PR, would that mean a sub-4 marathon was out of reach?  I hate that I have been so full of doubt this past week but Sunday, before the race, was not the moment I would shake that monkey off my back. 

Eventually, we lined up at the start line and before too long the race was underway.  I decided to run what felt like a fast 10K pace and let the first mile decide my approach to the rest of the race.  If my pace over the first mile was anywhere near 8:20, I’d shoot for a PR.  If it wasn’t, then I would just find a relaxing but quick pace and put all thoughts of PR times out of my head. 

As always, people were passing me constantly even and I am getting much better at letting that happen.  I no longer feel the urge to try to keep up with the people shooting out of the gate, confident that I’ll see them again before too long.  The first mile felt like it was taking forever but I eventually passed the first mile marker and hit the lap button on my watch.

I was pleasantly surprised to see 8:28.  Well, that is sort of close to an 8:19 PR pace and even though 9 seconds seemed like a long time to make up over the remaining 5.2 miles, the pace gave me the confidence to try.  Just a pick up the pace a little bit, I told myself.

Mile 2 ticked off in 8:18.  Well, that is more like it.  If I can just stay with this pace for the next 4 miles or so, I wouldn’t be far from my PR.  I started to focus on just making it to the turn around and before I knew it I hit Mile 3 with an 8:11 mile.  As it turned out, I made up those 9 seconds pretty easily.

I swung around the turn around and headed back “home.”  That’s what I tell myself on out-and-back long runs after getting to the turn around spot – “Now, I just have to make it home.  Just gotta get home.  That’s it.” 

It was also at this point in a race that I expect to stop seeing so many people passing me and to start picking off all those people who started off too fast and zoomed by me in the beginning of the race.  However, this wasn’t happening.  People were still zooming by me and I felt like I wasn’t gaining on anyone.  In fact, it started to discourage me and I started questioning my decision to run to the race.

What was I thinking?  I’m fading 3 miles in to a 10K!  Stupid. Stupid.  Stupid.

Mile 4 was not an easy mile but I told myself to just relax in to the pace.  If my pace dropped below 8:19, I told myself it was OK to let the PR go and not try to push myself to accomplish something that was out of reach.  I ended up running an 8:18 that mile even though I felt like my pace had slowed significantly and that people were passing me with ease.  I couldn’t quite give up on the PR so I pushed Mile 5, just to see what I could do at that point. 

It turns out I could run an 8:08 mile for Mile 5.  With 1.2 miles to go, I started to doing the math – if I stayed on this pace, if I didn’t let up for even a second, I just might be about to squeak in a PR but it would be close.  I ran harder.

Before seeing the sign for Mile 6 – Where it is?  Where is it? – I saw the finish line ahead of me.  All I had to do was run to it.  It seems to simple and easy.  Mile 6.  I hit the lap button on my watch but didn’t even look down.  Just run to the finish.  Keep pushing.  Stay strong.  Just run!

It turns out Mile 6 was my fastest mile at 8:06 and I covered the final .2 miles in 1:32 minutes for a 30 second PR at the 10K distance.  My official time was 51 minutes 5 seconds.  I couldn’t believe that after putting over 5 miles on my legs and claiming it was a warm up once again resulted in a strong PR.  I felt great.  Tired.  Out of breath.  But great. 

I was the 188^th woman to cross the finish line and 58^th in my age group. 

I grabbed an apple, a banana, a water and two cookies and sat down to stretch as I cheered on the rest of the people finishing the race.  After scarfing all that down, I had to make a decision, am I really going to try to run home?  My legs felt heavy but they didn’t hurt.  I was definitely tired but I wasn’t exhausted.  I decided to give it a try, sticking close to the metro line so that I could jump on if I needed to.  I ended up running all the way home, (except for the last 3 blocks but only because Mike happened to drive by so he gave me a ride home). 

I paid for it the next few days – the most sluggish, cement-legged run ever on Monday and more shin pain on Tuesday and today – but I still enjoyed it.  Honestly, I can’t say I won’t do it again.

Pros:

• Convenient-ish location
• Great time of year to race in DC and pretty location along the river
• Good organization
• Cookies!

Cons:

• A bit crowded (not for most people, especially for a DC race but this is just a personal preference)

Race Report: Jonas Cattell Ten Miler 2010

This is the third year I ran this race (second year I finished). This race is never one of my goal races but rather one I just run for fun because of a family tradition. That said, each time I’ve lined up, I always have the time 1:20:00 in the back of my mind. That time is the fastest time anyone in my family has run this race and one day I’d love to beat that time. Sunday was not that day.

It was a nice fall day – sunshine but a little on the chilly side – but I could have done without the wind. Windy conditions are about the only weather I can say I “hate” running in. Rain and snow can be fun. With the right running clothes both cold and hot can be overcome. Hats were made to block the sunshine. However, there is nothing you can do about the wind and it seemed that not matter which way we headed Sunday, the wind was headed straight toward me.

We started the race and I felt alright. Racing/running in the afternoon isn’t my favorite; it just isn’t the time of day that I prefer. I fought the urge to chase people down as they paced in the first mile and told myself that I’d have my revenge eventually. “Push not too hard” was what I kept telling myself.

For the first two miles we ran down a nice tree-lined street. I found my groove by mile 2 and told myself not to let any more people pass me at that point. I also told myself to hold off on chasing anyone down; “just keep it steady, B.” I ran those two miles in 17:16.

By Mile 3 we are heading out of the tree-lined town and hitting some more hills. I’m able to sail up the hills without much pause and even started passing some people as I made my way through Mile 4 in 17:24. I’m running a little slower than I had hoped so I give myself permission to start chasing people down.

I hit the halfway mark with an 8:06 Mile 5. Now that is more like it. I sipped/chocked down a gulp of water from the aid station, zoomed past three women I had my eye on and picked my pace just a smidge in order to ensure that I stayed ahead of them.

Mile 6 came up quick but I was a little surprised to see that my pace for that mile was 9:18. I felt like I had kept it even but I guess not. I made it my goal to hit the 7 mile mark in 1 hour but with that slower Mile 6 I knew I probably wouldn’t make it. As we approached Mile 7, I was surprised to look down and see 1:00:52 on my watch. If the Boston Qualifying times can give you an extra 59 seconds to make the cut-off then I’ll take those 52 seconds and consider it a 1 hour 7 miler.

The one hour mark was important because I knew I had hit that mark last year at the 7 mile marker and I wanted to be ahead last year’s time. It was at this point that I knew I was going to have a tough time beating last year’s time of 1:26:44. If I ran the remaining 3 miles at a 8:30 pace, I could do it but I was getting tired and even when I made the next turn, the wind was still blowing right in my face.

The final three miles was a straight shot with some small hills as we approached the stop lights. I had my eye on two women ahead of me. One, in a white top wasn’t that far ahead of me and I knew I could pass her in the next mile and the second was in a blue top and seemed very far away. I picked it up and passed white-top-woman and told myself to just settle in and not let anyone pass me – blue-top-lady was just too far ahead. However, as we made our way passed Mile 8, which was a 9:20 mile, I knew I needed to dig deep and pick it up if I wanted to beat last year’s time.

Oddly, I started to feel great. It was the only time during the race that I felt like my pace clicked. I was cruising along and blue-top was getting closer and closer. At first I told myself it was too early to kick but as she got closer to me I knew I didn’t want to rein myself in. I just let it go and smoothly ran past her. The next runner was barely a speck in the distance that I didn’t have a prayer of catching. I told myself to think of blue-top lady as the #3 female runner and I just had to stay ahead of her if I wanted to place. I have no idea what my ranking is among all the other women out there and had no idea then but it worked and gave me a fun motivation to keep pushing.

I hit Mile 9 with a 7:30 mile. It was my fastest mile all race and I knew that pace wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) last. I just hoped that I could hold on long enough to get across the finish line before blue-top lady kicked it in. I couldn’t feel my legs getting heavy and for the first time during the race my breathing was getting very heavy. I knew I had better get my butt across the finish line soon.

Finally, I saw it – at first, just a speck in the distance – and then I got closer and closer. I didn’t dare look behind me for blue-top because even if she was right behind me trying to kick past me I didn’t have anything in me to fight her off. I didn’t want to know. Finally I saw the clock and it read 1:25 something. Just push, I told myself. Come on – 1:25 something is at least a whole different number than 1:26 something.

There really wasn’t anything left in me. I came across the line was an 8:47 final mile, with a recorded final time of 1:26:10. I’ll take those 30 seconds. A PR is a PR. I was the 36th person to cross the finish line.

Once again, it was a fun race because I got to run with my family and hang out with the family again. The second place finisher for Females 25-29 was a nice touch.

Pros:
Nice day for running (even though it was windy)
Plenty of subs/food/water/Gatorade at the end

Cons:
No chip timing
Course is open to traffic (I nearly got squished by an RV making a right-hand turn)

Race Report: Northfield Savings Bank Flying Pig Footrace

Last Saturday, while in Vermont visiting my parents, I ran the 33rd Annual Northfield Savings Bank Flying Pig Footrace with my mom. I was excited and proud to be running in the same race with her but she insisted that I run my own race and then come back for her. I begrudgingly accepted my mom’s orders even though my legs were exhausted from hiking Camel’s Hump the day before and I would have gladly slowed my pace to run with her.

 

Saturday ended up being a great day for a race: bright, sunny (although some clouds did roll in just at the start but then just as quickly disappeared again), cool weather. Ask any one of the Vermonters I was racing with and they’d argue that last point since it was supposed to get up in to the 70s that day.

 

We walked down to Northfield’s Village Common, where the race would start and end, about an hour early to watch the kid’s 1-mile race. Watching the kids take off at the starting line, eager, smiling and determined faces, was fun. The kids did not disappoint and put in a great race effort with the first one (a girl, no less) coming across the line in just over 6 and half minutes (a mile time, I’d never be able to hit now!).


After watching the kids finish their race, we walked over to the bank and got our bibs and t-shirts. The t-shirts are really great with an awesome picture of a flying pig on the back. It is definitely one of the most fun cotton race t-shirts I’ve ever received.

 

We were called to the start line and took off, immediately up hill for approximately one-third to half a mile. On the plus side, starting up in a race is a great way to guarantee that you don’t go out too fast and I love running up hills. On the negative side, it can be a little discouraging to start out a 5K already out of breath and tired. I didn’t push too hard up the hill, letting people stream past me. I told myself to just be patient because I’d soon be passing them.

 

As we hit the top of the hill and the course flattened out, I picked up the pace and told myself, “push, it’s only three miles; it’ll be over before you know it.” My 3 mile PR is 24:xx minutes and I think I could have taken a shot at the record had I not hiked the day before and if the race hadn’t started on an incline. However, those are the circumstances of this race so I told myself that plan A was get in under 26 minutes and plan B was to at least run it under 30 minutes. I was feeling surprisingly well as I started to push the pace at the top of hill and thought, maybe I could get close to the PR.

 

 

The course took us up to the edge of the Norwich University campus before turning back toward the Village Common, crossing within 50 yards of the finish line, circling across and along the Dog River before turning back toward the Village Common and the finish line.

 

I hit mile one in 8:06 and definitely felt good. I thought I could aim for sub-8 one the next mile so I picked it up just a hair. As I was heading down hill, toward Village Common the first time, I let gravity take over and sped down it, passing a woman in a bright blue t-shirt. Nothing remarkable about that as I was passing loads of people but I would remember her later. Not long after crossing the Dog River, along Water Street, which had little shade and the sun had come back out, I started to slow. My legs were tired. Uh oh.

 

Up to that point, I had been focusing on catching the person in front of me, passing them and then picking out my next victim. Now, it was just a matter of survival. I told myself, “just hang on, I was almost to Mile two and the turn around, just don’t let anyone pass.” But the turn around was a long time coming and I knew I was in some trouble. I hit the second mile in 8:12.

 

A PR was out of the question but I could still eke in under 26 minutes if I just kept up the pace.

 

Luckily after the turn around, I had something to distract me from the cement-like legs – I knew I would pass-by mom. I looked and looked. Nope, that’s not her. Oh, that could be…nope not her. Oh wait, there she is. And there she was, coming down the street, head down a little, a little red in the face but still moving forward. She perked up when she saw me and me high-fived. “Go Momma!!” I shouted. It was one of my favorite race moments ever (beaten, of course by the banana hand-off from my first marathon).

 

Well, now I had to finish this race, no more distractions just one foot in front of the other and repeat as quickly as possible. Just as I spotted to turn up ahead, I heard someone getting closer and closer, both their footfalls and their breathing. It didn’t sound good and I really wanted to hold them off but I just couldn’t find any pep in my legs and I knew I wanted to save a little bit for the kick to the finish line. That’s when blue-shirt passed me.

 

“Argh” I wanted to scream. I had thundered past her on the downhill and here she was, slow and steady coming back. For a second, I thought about just running all out, screw the kick at the end, but my legs weren’t interested in responding. I had found a groove and they didn’t want to go any faster. A little disappointed, I let her go without a fight and just focused on getting to the finish.

I made the final turn, a tiny up and over the bridge and gave it my all toward the finish line. I couldn’t find any speed to pass anyone but I finished strong and it felt good. To my surprise, the clock read 25:34 as I crossed the finish line. I thought I had slowed more than that on the last 1.1 miles (total 9:15) but I had managed to hold on for a sub-26 finish.

 

I quickly, grabbed some water, waved at my dad and Mike and then started back for Mom. I really wanted to run part of the race with her. I met up with her with about a quarter mile to go and ran it in with her. She said she was tired and that this was tougher than she thought it would be. Regardless, I was so proud of her as we ran in to the finish line. “This is my MOM!” I wanted to shout. Of course, I didn’t shout that but I couldn’t contain my smile and hoped that it was good enough to show everyone how happy I was to run that race with her.

I ended up finishing 67th overall and 8th in my age group with an official time of 25:33 an average pace of 8:14.

 

 

Great race. Great company. Great day. Thanks Mom! xoxo

 

Pros:

• Great (cotton) t-shirt
• Cool weather (for a Virginian)
• Fun festivities before and after
• Great small town race

 

Formulating My Plan

Sometimes I can be a little flaky when it comes to picking goal races. I want to do them all and as soon as I find a new race/challenge I start day-dreaming about how I can fit it in to my schedule. Oh, a new 50K in Maryland only 30 minutes from the house! Ah, a 12-hour trail run adventure in VA in about a month! Look, a race on the C&O Towpath; I love the towpath! Wow, a race put on by a great beer company; I’m there!

And this is how I ended up with a race (sometimes, two) every weekend of September:

September 4 – Northfield Savings Banks Flying Pig Footrace, 5K
September 11 – VHTRC Women’s Half Marathon Trail Run
September 18 – Revenge of the Penguins 10 Miler
September 25 – Clarendon Day 10K
September 26 – Dogfish Dash 5K

Fortunately I didn’t get too carried away and all of the races are below or at the half-marathon distance (but I’m keeping an eye on that 50K and that 12-hour run for next year).

However, I’m not specifically training for any of these races. I know I can run these distances and I’m really not all that concerned with beating PRs, although it was would be nice if it happened. I wanted to rediscover a sense of freedom in my running. I enjoy doing races and when they aren’t “goal races” there is zero stress involved so I ended up having a great time. There is nothing like crossing a finish line.

And yet, I still want more. I’ve been telling myself since the Skyline Challenge 50K that I should just take the fall off of “training” and just run and race for fun. I’ve repeated this to myself over and over again.

It did not stick.

After talking to another runner about upcoming races and goals, I started getting the itch to attempt a sub-4 marathon with the eventual goal of running a Boston Qualifying time of 3:40. As much as I loved the ultra and as excited as I get about attempting to run further distances, I would also love to go sub-4 before I turn 30. I don’t know why it is important for me to reach this utterly self-imposed arbitrary time goal before my next birthday but nevertheless, it is.

I found a flat, flat, flat race that may just do the trick and I won’t have to start marathon training until October since the race isn’t until the middle of January. No summer long runs for me! Yay!

Anyway, the race isn’t for sure and plans could definitely change but for now it is what I am most excited about so I’m going to go with it.

Sub-4 here I come (and I’ve got my eye on you BQ!)

Daily Dozen:
Strength Training in the morning
XT – Stair climber and elliptical @ lunch hour

Race Report: The Skyline Challenge 50K Ultra-Marathon

What am I doing here?

 

That was the thought running through my mind in the early morning hours on Saturday, July 10th. What in the world am I doing standing in the rain, before the sun has even come up, surrounded by 100 or so people, waiting for someone to shout “GO!” so that I could spend the next 8 hours running/walking/moving forward through the mountains?

 

I have been in such a funk lately that I just couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that I had actually signed up for an ultra-marathon several months ago and now I was asking my legs to go through with it even though my brain and heart just weren’t in to it. What am I doing here?

 

I won’t bury the lead here – I had a great day, a great race and I loved just about every second of this experience. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the race. My brain has been churning away faster than it ever has before considering possible future races and experiences. I keep playing back the race in my head, trying to hold on to every second of the race at once – all 8 hours and 9 minutes, all 29,340 seconds at once.

 

Even though I’m hobbling around on sore, weak post-race legs, I feel completely reenergized and strong. Sunday I couldn’t help staring at my legs in amazement at what they are capable of accomplishing.

Start to Aid Station #1

 

It had rained heavily all night but it was only just drizzling when I woke up Saturday morning. As I walked to the race start from the campground, I wasn’t sure how to feel about the rain. While it was cooling things off significantly compared to the last few days, I also wasn’t prepared to be slipping and sliding along muddy trails all day long. The drizzle continued through the pre-race announcements and the short time we waited on the dirt road for the race to start but as soon as they shouted “GO!” I forgot about the rain and didn’t take notice of when it stopped. It couldn’t have continued for more than a mile or two.

 

In fact as soon as I heard the word “GO!” and took off at a slow trot toward the trails my mind started to focused on getting to the first aid station. The aid stations were supposed to be 4-5 miles apart and I just focused on getting to the first. I’d figure out the rest once I got there.

 

According to the pre-race announcements it was 5 miles to the first aid station and afterwards we’d hit a long uphill. “You’ll hate this hill now and you’ll hate it even more when you get there” the race director told us. However, I couldn’t think past the first aid station. I knew I had to make it there and that was it.

 

The trail was muddy from the rain and there were huge puddles along the course forcing us to tiptoe around them. Also, we were still bunched up so this part of the race was a little slow. After a moderate climb we spread out a bit and I even ended up going down the wrong trail for about 5 minutes with a large group of runners before we realized we hadn’t seen pink or orange ribbons in a while. It was a bit of a “Who’s on First” routine trying to figure out which of the three trails we needed to follow but we eventually figured it out and I made it to the first aid station in tact.

 

Aid Station #1 to Aid Station #2

 

I grabbed 3 Oreos, a gel and filled my hand-held water bottle and headed back out on the course. I ate the three cookies and saved the gel for later knowing that I would probably need a boost after we hit the “hill” the race director warned us about. After the ups and downs during that first section it was hard to imagine what could be worse that would necessitate a warning from the RD.

 

This would be the shortest distance between aid stations of the day at roughly 3 miles but it involved that now infamous (at least in my imagination) incline. Even though the sun had come up, it was still overcast and the mud on the trails had not improved. We were still a bit bunched up as we all hit that steep hill, with large rocks and slippery mud. I managed to power hike my way to the top without incident but others seemed to be struggling up the muddy trail and a few even fell in to the mud.

 

Once at the top, I didn’t take time to catch my breath, happy to be able to run again. I made it to the next Aid Station faster than I expected, hitting a short (but rocky, hilly and exposed) out-and-back. Again, I grabbed a few cookies and a gel or two for the road before heading back out on the trails.

 

Aid Station #2 to Aid Station #3

 

The next part of the course was a lot of fun. We ran along the top of the mountain, hitting an overlook that would have been very nice had we not been fogged in. After a few miles of relatively flat but rocky trails, we hit the switchbacks down the other side of the mountain. It was a lot of fun to bomb the switchbacks, barely slowing for the turns, using trees to make the 180 degree turns easier. I didn’t take much notice of how long we were on this section of the trail and I should have because it would be important for the way back but I had a great deal of fun running down that mountain.

 

Coming off the switchbacks we ended up on a wider fire road with plenty of room to let loose. I cruised the flats and down hills, walked the up hills, and felt like I was in the zone.

 

The sun started to come out and at this point, I had been out on the course a little under 3 hours 30 minutes. It was starting to warm up but the trees were providing a nice shade and I welcomed the opportunity to dry out a little bit.

 

I had been aiming to hit each of the aid stations in 1 hour 15 minutes or less and I was on target. I felt surprisingly good considering I had run nearly 15 miles on hilly, rocky terrain.

 

I made it to Aid Station #3, refilled my water bottle, grabbed some pretzels, cookies and gummy bears and some salt tablets and headed down the road.

 

Aid Station #3 to Aid Station #4

 

There was a small bit of road running after leaving aid station #3 but I didn’t mind it before we hit a wide gravel trail with some rolling ups and downs. I also finally saw the lead runners coming back and got my first taste of just how supportive and friendly ultra-runners can be. Every single runner who passed me going the other direction had a smile and words of encouragement. I’ve cheered on faster runners in plenty of road races but never once have the lead runners broken focus in order to tell me “good job” or “keep it up” or “looking strong.” It was an awesome show of support.

 

Nearly to Aid Station #4, we headed up a long, winding hill. I walked most of it but it felt great knowing I was so close to the turn around point.

 

As I came up to the top of the hill, I realized I had only seen 7 or 8 woman coming back the other direction, meaning I was in the top ten (now, there were only about 100 runners I would guess and only a quarter of those runners were women but still…top ten!!). I breezed through the aid station, grabbed some goodies and gels and headed back down the hill.

 

Aid Station #4 to Aid Station #5

 

I felt GREAT. I was flying.

 

I hooked up with another runner going down the hill who was from Northern VA and we started talking about ultras and running in DC, etc. He was amazed that this was my first ultra and that I was looking so good. It was fun to have someone else to talk to and it must have shown because everyone commented on how much fun we were having as we passed.

 

Then, I realized we hadn’t passed anyone for a while. Then, I realized we hadn’t seen an orange or pink ribbon in a while. Then, I realized that we were running on a road, not a trail and had been for some time. Then, full realization set it…we had missed a turn (it wasn’t just me and my new friend, there were 5 of us strung out along the road) and were not on the course. We headed back the way we came and I took off. I didn’t really care that we were lost or that I had run two extra miles. I just wanted to get back to the course because I had something to prove to myself now.

 

I’d be lying if I said getting lost and running extra miles didn’t knock the wind out of my sails a bit but I was still having a good time. I was also happy to be back on track.

 

Aid Station #5 to Aid Station #6

 

As we back-tracked along the course, it didn’t occur to me what I had to face. As I quickly made my way through the fifth aid station, refilling and restocking, I was just focused on the task at hand. We got back on the wide jeep road and before too long we were back in the woods and headed toward the switchbacks.

 

Oh crap! The switchbacks.

 

As I headed up the mountain, I kept telling myself that the run down didn’t seem that long so the hike up couldn’t be that brutal. But I just kept climbing up and up. By this time, no one was around me. I couldn’t see anyone head of me or anyone climbing up. For 30 minutes of steady power hiking, I just followed the trail from orange or pink ribbon to orange or pink ribbon. I started questioning the situation and myself. What if I was supposed to turn off somewhere and this was only supposed to be for the climb down? Where is everyone else? What am I doing out here? When will this end? God, my legs are killing me! This is supposed to be a running race, not a hiking race. Argh! I will even admit to mumbling expletives as I hiked up the never-ending mountain.

 

I still wasn’t any close to the top but after 30 minutes I saw a group of runners slowly gaining on me. I was so excited to see another human being that I didn’t even care that they were coming up so fast it looked like I was standing still.

 

Fifteen minutes later – after 45 minutes (I’m guess-timating) of walking up a mountain – I finally made it to the top. The group behind me soon passed me but I took off running after them. It wasn’t easy, or fast, my legs were officially shot after that long climb.

 

However, I was eager to get to the next (and last!) aid station. As I left the last aid station, #5, I heard someone say that we were at mile 22 so I was trying to do the math and figure how much more running we’d have to do after the #6.

 

As I finished the trail and headed back down and back up the gully to get to the final aid station (what was aid station #2 also) I heard someone as they ran by me going the other direction – “once you get to the aid station, it’s only four miles to the finish.”

 

I have never, ever wanted to see an aid station as much as I wanted to see this one. I knew that the worst of the course was over and I knew I would finish. I was quick to grab my goodies and refill my water (I took a swig of soda because I was intrigued that they were offering it at all the aid stations. Blech! Last thing in the world I wanted while running). I was out of there and on my way to the finish.

 

Aid Station #6 to Finish

 

I kept an eye on the one woman in front of me the whole way to the finish. I didn’t have the energy left to pass her but I knew that if I kept her in sight I would be able to keep a decent pace.

 

The sharp climb up the mountain really zapped my energy and fried my legs. It actually felt better to run than to walk but I wasn’t able to run any of the steep down hills any longer. My quads were shot and didn’t have the strength to hold my knee in place on the left leg so it started to hurt on the down hills. It wasn’t terrible pain and it went away as soon as I was able to run on level ground or walk up hill. (I even started to wish for up hills while I was stumbling back down the “hill” from the beginning of the course, which thankfully had dried out by this time. I wasn’t looking forward to sliding down the mud on that one).

 

And before I knew it, I was on the dirt road headed back toward the campground and the finish line. Cars were passing me and the drivers would wave and shout encouragement (much faster runners than me headed home, I can’t blame them). I saw the lake, I made the last turn and I headed for the finish line as fast as I could, which was surprisingly fast considering all I had been through.

 

I felt no pain. I felt no fatigue. I just felt elated.

 

Someone near the finish line spotted me and started shouting and cheering. She was pretty impressed with my finishing sprint and said so. I turned in to the grass and down the finish chute…and then I was done. I finished my first ultra. I ran 31 miles. I ran MORE than 31 miles since I got lost! I did it in 8 hours and 9 minutes. Right on target.

 

It was the absolute toughest thing I’ve ever had to do but it is definitely something I would do tomorrow if I could.

 

 

Me after finishing the race

 

The course profile - Mountains! 

 

Pros:

• First ultra-marathon experience couldn’t be beat
• Challenging – I’m so proud I was able to finish
• Nice performance shirt
• Awesome food at the end and I nice low-key picnic feel

Cons:

• I got nothing – it was great!

 

Bob Potts Heritage Rail Trail Marathon – Race Report

Success!!

I don’t intend on burying the lead here; I ran a marathon – all 26.2 miles of it – in 4 hours 7 minutes 42 seconds! I am so proud of my time and my race yesterday. I ran the race my own way without getting caught up in the pace of the runners passing me during the early miles. I ran strong the entire way and I finished well (my legs were hurting and I didn’t have much of a finishing kick so I’m not saying I finished strong but it wasn’t the struggle I experienced in Vermont or Marine Corp and most certainly would have experienced in Nashville had I been allowed to complete the distance).

Although I didn’t sleep well the night before (I am blaming the iced coffee drink I had around noon but everyone else seems to think it was just “nerves”) I was able to wake up quickly. I think I went to the bathroom about a dozen times in the span of 45 minutes but I had to diligent with my hydration. I was feeling good as we left the hotel for the short trip to the other side of the town of York and the York College track – Grumbacher Center.

We were quickly able to find parking and I immediately got in line for the port-o-potties. I made it through the line with about 10 minutes left before race start time and as Mike and I walked to the start line, he asked me, “Well, how to do you feel?” I had told him earlier in the week (and then later in the week and on the drive up to York and a few more times that Saturday and then also before going to bed…). I answered honestly, “I’m not sure. It has really hit me that I’m running a marathon today.”

A quick kiss and that’s how I left it as I lined up toward the back of the small pack of runners.

The Bob Potts Heritage Rail Trail Marathon is only in its second year but it is a great race. The race is run in honor of Bob Potts, one of the first members of the York Road Runners, who passed away 4 years ago. His son organized this annual event to honor his father’s passion for running and to raise funds for a scholarship for two area high school cross country runners. With a field capped at 400 runners (333 runners crossed the finish line), this is a small race for sure but it is perfect for me.

The course is mostly run on the Heritage Rail Trail, a crushed gravel, flat as flat can be (I was told there was net uphill going out and net downhill coming back but I certainly couldn’t tell) trail starting in York, Pennsylvania. The organization of this small race is top-notch – packet pickup was a breeze, the start was easy and no-fuss, and the volunteers and water stops along the course were supportive and enthusiastic. The finish in the stadium at York College was a lot of fun and made it very easy for me to find my friends and family at the end.

The race director yelled “On your mark, get set, GO!” and suddenly I was running my fifth marathon. The first mile is run on the streets before hooking up with the rail trail and I’ll be honest, I wasn’t feeling great about the run. My legs didn’t feel particularly fresh and my spirits were a little low. As we made our way through the first few miles I repeatedly reminded myself, “Run your race.” I had to forget all those runners whizzing past me and keep an eye on my pace. As long as I was hitting my goal (9:30 pace overall), then I didn’t care who passed me.

It wasn’t easy, especially letting the lady dressed as a pink butterfly pass me and being ok with losing sight of her all together. “It’s OK. Just let them go. Your time is what is important; not their times.” I checked my watch at each mile marker waiting for it to be below 9:30 to give me an excuse to catch up to all those people running by me. However, that moment never came and by mile 4 or 5, I settled in for the long haul.

I saw Mike just before mile 10 and waved off the visor (in case the clouds opened up and it started to rain) and the banana. “Banana at Mile 17,” I shouted as I ran by. One of the great things about this out-and-back course is that he picked a spot and stayed there, seeing me twice.

I was feeling much better by this point and decided to allow myself to pick it up just a bit on the way to the turn around spot (which was beyond the 13.1 halfway mark). After hitting the turn around spot, I told myself that no one would pass me from that point on. I ran a consistent pace and everyone else was slowing down. I was able to pick people off easily – run an even pace, catch up to the runner in front of me, pass and pick the next one. A race experience like this has truly proven to me that the discipline to not go out to fast pays off big time!

Over the next 13 miles, I had 2 men pass me and 1 woman. Although I didn’t keep a count of the people I passed, I would estimate that it was 2 to 3 each mile so I would have to guess that I passed between 25 and 40 people. Passing so many people and doing so without struggling was an amazing feeling. Amazing what an evenly paced race will do for your racing confidence.

At Mile 15, I sucked do the Strawberry Gu I had gotten at Mile 13 and at Mile 17 I picked up the banana from Mike.

Banana handoffs are very important to my marathon success!

However, I held on to the banana until Mile 22 in order to (hopefully) give me a pick-me-up just when I would usually start to fade. Whether it was the banana or the even pacing or the gel or the higher mileage or some combination of all of the above (most likely answer), something went very right for me in this race.

By Mile 20 I was definitely feeling my legs but I was keeping my pace (and passing plenty of people) without any added effort. It wasn’t until Mile 24 that I was kinda wishing the marathon was over. My hamstrings were feeling tighter and tighter and I knew I didn’t have much left in me. I kept telling myself, “Only twenty more minutes running. That’s it. That’s nothing. You do that everyday and today is no different.”

I kept going and when I saw the mile marker for 25 I was very happy, only one more to go. However, that elation was short-lived because my watch read 9:55. For a few seconds, I was too shocked to react. My legs were still moving and I was still breathing but time stopped for a moment. Then, I got a little angry with myself. I didn’t run that far (25 freakin’ miles) to run my only 10+ minute mile of the day on the last mile of the marathon. “No way” and so I ran faster. It hurt (not in a sharp pain sort of way but definitely in the, my muscles have been whacked with a hammer and I should definitely give them a break, kind of way). I wanted to stop but I was too stubborn to give in. I had worked too hard to maintain a consistent pace and pass all those runners just to get passed back so close to the finish. The only option was to run and give it my all.

As I passed the 26 mile marker my watch read 9:34. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

I had been aiming for a 4:10 for the day; a PR of over 9 minutes. It was a time I knew I had in me but honestly, wasn’t one that would be easy for me to achieve. When I saw 9:34 on my watch at that last mile marker I knew I would go get a 4:10 and if I could just maintain my pace for the next two tenths of a mile I might even get a sub 4:08. Again, the only thing to do was run. Trudge is probably a better description of the form of movement I used to make it up the “hill” (one those inclines in the road that probably isn’t truly considered a hill but at mile 26 of a marathon, it was a beast) and in to the stadium.

I entered the stadium tired and exhausted and ready to stop running but I had to make to the opposite side of the track (and let me tell you running on a bouncy track feels like walking on the moon – in a bad way – after 25 miles on a gravel trail) and the best way to do that was to run. As I rounded the track, I knew there was no way I would be catching the guy in front of me and so I didn’t even try. I did make an effort to dig deep and find a finishing kick but I didn’t come up with much of one. Anyway, I rounded the track and I saw an amazing site…4:07. That was the number on the clock. I had done it!

All the doubt and anxiety that had been bubbling in my since Nashville simple disappeared without a trace. I haven’t spent a single though second guessing myself or my training. It was the most perfect race I could have run on that day and I simply cannot ask any more of myself.

1 9:40
2 9:13
3 9:23
4 9:26
5 9:35
6 9:26
7 9:29
8 9:25
9 9:39
10 9:19
11 9:24
12 9:16
13 9:14
14 9:12
15 9:21
16 9:24
17 9:21
18 9:18
19 9:29
20 9:28
21 9:24
22 9:20
23 9:29
24 9:31
25 9:55
26 9:34
26.2 2:15

Pros
Small race with a hometown feel
Enthusiastic organization, volunteers and water stops
Flat, soft surface…flat

Cons
I really can’t complain but if you twist my arm I’d have to say that an x-small t-shirt would have been nice

At the finish with the Giant Red Cow

Capital Challenge - Race Report

I am a runner redeemed.

Wednesday morning I ran the Capital Challenge, a 3 mile charity race in DC that is invitation-only for teams representing the Legislative, Executive, and Judicial Branches of the Federal Government and the Media. I ran a one of several teams fielded by the company for which I work. Approximately 700 people were running the race.

I had signed up for the race knowing that I wouldn’t be recovered from the marathon I was running the previous Saturday so I had submitted an estimated race time of 30 minutes. Of course, at that time, I didn’t realize I would only be allowed to run 22 miles of the marathon and therefore was not nearly as beat up as I thought I would be. My legs were feeling very good Wednesday morning.

As the starting whistle blew I decided to go ahead and push the pace just to see what I could. I was pushing but not too hard (no hard, labored breathing…yet) and hit the first mile in 8:06 (take off a few seconds because I started about 15 second after the gun). Wow! Great! I wonder if I can maintain this pace.

I blow past the water stop and push on to the turn around, 1.5 mile mark. I make the sharp 180 degree turn and push harder. I had only seen a handful of coworkers ahead of me and I wanted to see how many of them I could catch.

I ran. I pushed and ran harder. I hit the mile 2 marker in 15:57. What?! I’m actually speeding up. GO GO GO. Just one more mile.

It was unusually cold this morning, in the low 40s and there had been a sharp wind as we were standing around waiting for the race start. The wind that I thought would be at my back (or at the least coming in from side) was actually blowing straight at us, nonstop, for the entire third mile. I have said it before – I hate the wind. However, I knew I couldn’t let it defeat me on this day. I had had enough of being defeated by mother nature while running.

I pushed. I started breathing harder and harder and tried to keep it as steady as possible. I cajoled. One more mile. That’s nothing. You can’t outrun a tornado but you can make it to this finish line in under 24 minutes. Come on. RUN. Then, finally, I heard the announcer. There was a slight bend in the course and a few seconds later (though it seemed like minutes) I saw the banner for the finish line. Get there Becki. You just have to get to that spot and then you can stop. I promise. That’s it. Just get there.

The clock read 23 something and I pushed as hard as I could – 23:36. Holy crap, I did it! If this had been a 5K, I would have PR’ed by nearly a minute. Apparently running 22 miles of a marathon a few days prior really helps my speed (or at least it did this once). Running and finishing this race well, felt good. It still feels good. I have a much more positive outlook on running today compared to the few days after Nashville.

Am I still planning on attempting a marathon in few weeks…oh yeah!

Pros
-Small race = higher placement (254 out of 700)
-Low entry fee ($17)
-Very enthusiastic race organizers
-Nice, technical running shirt

Cons
-Invitation only race

Country Music Marathon - Race Report

How did the marathon in Nashville go? My official finisher’s certificate about sums it up.

When I left the previous weekend for our road trip to Tennessee, the weather for the marathon was supposed to be rainy with a high of 71 – cooler and cloudier than it was supposed to be the few days before Saturday’s race. However, by the time we made it to Nashville the forecast was looking much bleaker – rain…wind…hail!...tornado!!

I tried to remain positive about the weather. Really, how often is it as bad as the weatherman says? The race organizers had sent out on email on Friday saying that as long as the full marathoners were on pace to run a 4:30 or better time at the 11 mile mark we would be able to finish the race and not be diverted to the half marathon finish. Not a problem!

However, I had trouble sleeping the night before the race. I feel asleep quickly around 9 o’clock but I don’t think my mind ever shut itself off but I woke up at 2 and didn’t fall back asleep until 4. I kept worrying about the weather and questioning myself – what if I was having a bad day and fell off my pace early? what will I tell people? what if they cancel the race altogether? Not the thoughts I needed running through my head only a few hours before running a marathon.

I woke up at 5 to my alarm and I got dressed I was sleepy but I knew I had to shake it off – shake off last night’s frustrations and anxiety, shake off fretting about my pace. I stepped outside on the porch of the B&B we were staying in to eat my bagel and banana and was encouraged. The sun was coming up. It wasn’t raining. There was just a slight breeze. Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

At 6 I headed out for the race start line, about 2 miles from where we were staying. I walked and jogged my way to Centennial Park feeling very confident about the next few hours. I wondered about the starting area for a bit and didn’t pay much attention to the race announcers since there were still 30 minutes until the start. I probably should have been paying more attention because it turns out they decided to start the race 15 minutes early so by the time I realized what was going on I had to push way through a crowd of runners to even get close to the pace group I was aiming for.

Before I knew it…and without really realizing what was going on…suddenly I was across the start line and running my fourth marathon. Running the first mile or so toward downtown Nashville in a massive sea of runners (going downhill) was awesome. Even though there were 35,000 runners, the streets and waterstops I never felt like I didn’t have enough room to run. For once, it seemed, a race had gotten the corral/wave start right (this has not been my experience with the local DC mega-races).

A bit about my strategy: nine minutes thirty seconds. That is the number I wanted to see each time I hit the lap button on my watch when I hit the mile markers – 9:30. I wanted 9:30s through Mile 20 and at that point I would assess where I was at and speed up if I could or continue to focus on hitting 9:30s.

As I ran along with the huge crowd, I was able to dial in to my pace quickly and stay there (within reason – I’m still not very good at knowing my pace by feel). The first 11 miles of the race went well – plenty of crowd support, saw my super spectator (husband, Mike) at Miles 5 and 8 and got a boost of energy seeing him. At Mile 11, the half marathon course split off and the few marathon runners (4000 compared to the over 30,000 running the half). I actually didn’t mind the lack of crowd support but the course itself was pretty lacking – they loop us through some business parks, etc.

Also, this was about the time that the clouds started filling up the sky. I was hoping that I would beat the rain but as I ran along it looked less and less likely.

I was still feeling good – some tightness in the hamstrings, my legs were starting to get tired and I was regretting the decision not to get new shoes about a month ago but all in all I was very positive about the race. I hit Mile 17 and my legs rapidly started feeling heavier and heavier. I was trudging up a hill and I made the decision to power walk to the top. I have never, NEVER, been forced to walk in a race. It was demoralizing. To make matters worse, I hit another bit hill at Mile 18 and it take even less time to talk myself in to walking to the top. Giving up was so easy at that point.

I started questioning everything. Making up my own running schedule was a bad idea. Just Run – that’s so stupid. Why didn’t I do specific marathon pace runs? I should have been more consistent during the crappy winter weather. I shouldn’t have cut down my taper to two weeks, I’ve tried that before and it doesn’t work for me. I should know better. I’m not the marathon running type. Why am I doing this? This sucks.

That was the lowest I’ve ever been with my running. However, I made it to the top of the hill and told myself that I had to take it one mile at a time. Just get to the next water stop and take it from there. Surprisingly, things did get a little better. My hamstrings were still screaming and my legs still felt like bricks but my mind wasn’t beating me up any more. I made it to Mile 20 at 3 hours 14 minutes. If I could do the next 6.2 miles in one hour, I could still PR. So that is what I set out to do – push for the next hour at 10 minute pace. I could do it. There were no more hills. I just knew I could do it.

And then I turned the corner and saw two things: the mile marker for 21 and police cars, police barricades and a policeman with a bullhorn. “Runners turn right and head toward the stadium. Severe weather is imminent. Runners divert to the stadium. Sever weather is imminent.” My heart dropped. I was on pace why are they diverting us. I forgot all about my tired legs and screaming hamstrings. The pain just melted away and was replaced with…

I’m not sure what it was I was feeling. Anger? No, not really. Frustration? Definitely but it was different too. Grief? Ok, that sounds a little dramatic but yes, kinda. Disappointment? Yup, in myself, in the race, in the weather.

I couldn’t believe my luck. The police car and barricades were being put in place just as I came around the corner. If I had been just 5 minutes faster, I would have been able to finish it. I was upset when I realized that I could have prevented being diverted from the course. If only I was a faster…by which I really meant “better”…runner. Several runners were jumping the barricades and running around the police cruisers, totally ignoring the instructions to divert and not finish. I slowed down to contemplate what course of action would I take – screw it, I’m a runner, I finish races that I start, weather and police be damned or better safe than sorry and live to run another day.

I made that turn and ran back to the stadium in a clump of 10 or so other quasi-marathoners. I just couldn’t bring myself to defy authority (not to say that is a bad thing – there was some pretty severe lightening going on in the distance and the Country Music Marathon is not worth dying over). Anyway, we headed back to the stadium, dodging pedestrians, runners who had finished their race (mostly half marathoners) and traffic. We jumped the barrier near the 26 mile mark and ran across the finish line.

The clock read 3:42 and to everyone watching, we looked legitimate. I felt sick to my stomach. I wasn’t legitimate and I knew it. I felt like I had tricked somebody, gotten away with it and felt guilty. I grabbed water, a space blanket and a medal and went to find my husband. He was shocked to see me so early and thought I must have had an amazing race. I had to confess (and that is what it felt like, a confession) that I didn’t run the whole race, that they had diverted the course and didn’t allow me to finish.

As we walked back to the car, I skipped the food and other finish line amenities because I didn’t feel like I deserved them, I started to get angry. I was angry with myself and with the weather and with the race organizers. I mumbled and cursed (sometimes loudly, sometimes under my breath) and I wanted to shout. I was mad at myself for crossing the finish line. I was mad at myself for taking a medal I didn’t feel like I deserved. The other runners would had cross the finish line around me ran the whole thing and I did not belong there at that time.

By the time we made it back to the bed and breakfast, I was a little calmer about it and had started to come to terms with not being allowed to finish. It was raining so hard outside and there was lightening, I know it was the right decision on everyone’s part. However, it then became apparent after the results there were half marathon runners…lots and lots of half marathon runners…finishing well after I would have come across the line. I understand they need to get people off the streets and that the police and EMTs had much better places to be than watching me run by but it still irks me that I could have finished in the time they held the course open for the half marathoners.

Breath. Calming down. (As you can see, it still stings a little).

So I didn’t get to finish the marathon. I have NOT run four marathons (no matter what everyone says…it is a fact) but I am OK with it. I have been recovering nicely this week and am seriously contemplating another attempt in a few weeks. I really want to see what I can do on the training I’ve done.

I did so many things wrong before this marathon (no running but lots of strenuous hiking the week before, not eating well the week before, very little runs at marathon pace, not pacing correctly on the hills, etc.) that I need to give myself a fair shot at a PR this spring.

Mile 1 9:39
Mile 2 9:25
Mile 3 9:29
Mile 4 9:44
Mile 5 9:46
Mile 6 9:19 – Energy boost after spotting my spectator
Mile 7 9:49
Mile 8 & 9 18:51
Mile 10 & 11 18:23
Mile 12 9:10
Mile 13 9:24
Mile 14 9:24
Mile 15 9:41
Mile 16 9:41
Mile 17 9:42
Mile 18 10:55 – Uh oh, had to walk up a hill, hamstrings feeling very tight
Mile 19 11:10 – Not good, had to walk up another hill, but decide to rally
Mile 20 10:26 – That’s getting better, feeling a little better
Mile 21 through finish about 22.2 18:22

Pros

-Nashville is a fun city, absolutely worth the visit
-Excellent support on the first half of the course
-Race Organizers have made up for having to divert the course – apologies, coupons to other events

Cons
-Second half lonely compared to the first half (for some this could be a pro)
-Race Organizers weren’t very good at communicating the changes to the start time and what to do once they diverted the course – was I supposed to cross the finish line?
-Expensive
-Goodie bag was just leaflets and ads (sign of the times more so than the race most likely)