NF’s awesome panoramic shot of the empty finish chute

What recipe spells a big PR, and a shattered A-goal?

Nice weather? Perfect fueling and hydration? Confidence and just the right amount of nerves? The company of good friends?

I say all of the above.e

This was my seventh half-marathon, and my third time running the Pittsburgh half – second time on this exact course (nice that it actually stayed the same last year to this year).  I was long overdue for success on this course, after two years getting totally brutalized by it – and the weather.

So here’s how it all went down.

Expo and pre-race shenanigans

This race was filled with friends. First off, NF’s best friend (who will also be his best man), Dan, was in town for a visit and to join us for the race. NF was bogged down by end-of-semester work plus preparing for his research stint in Knoxville from May to June, so I entertained Dan a bit Friday night, hydrating in advance with some beers at Bar Louie in Station Square (oops), though we still got to bed at a reasonable hour. We tried to get a good amount of sleep, but were still awakened decently early in the morning.

Saturday morning we got right to work on breakfast and headed down to the expo, since NF had a lot to get done that day. I expected to drop a lot of dough on on-sale merchandise, but didn’t actually end up spending a dime. It helped that none of the booths had a pair of Brooks Launch in my size. Oh well. I don’t actually NEED them right now… We got our bibs, shirts, and race packets, and after some meandering around, we headed out.

#BostonStrong wall at the GNC booth at the expo. <3

I spent the afternoon at my place relaxing and hydrating like a fiend. The forecast was still making me nervous: lows in the 50s, but getting up to 70s at some point and very sunny. I had visions of cooking under the hot sun in those last couple miles, wanting to just give up and melt into a puddle on the Birmingham Bridge. I distracted myself with paging through my new issue of Runner’s World and obsessively getting ready for the race, including laying out my whole outfit. I also decided to go ahead and have my splits auto-post to Facebook, and then prayed I didn’t regret that decision.

Must you really do this “racing” thing so much? I want cuddles.

My cat decided to leave some furry good luck on my Oiselle bum wrap. Probably because it’s super soft.

Around 5:30, NF, Dan, NF’s roommate Rachel, and I went to Giant Eagle to get supplies for dinner – pancake mix, syrup, Greek yogurt, and granola, then headed over to friends Matt and Maria’s place to have a big pancake party (they have a griddle – sweeeeet). NF was the griddle master, and made truly superb pancakes. Our pre-long race and very long run tradition has become pancakes with cinnamon and granola mixed in the batter, then topped with a dollop of Greek yogurt, with more cinnamon and granola sprinkled on top. Matt, Maria, and Dan, in their first venture into this treat, seemed to greatly enjoy it. We were all stuffed full of carbs and very happy, quickly sliding towards Food Coma territory (though not before reading off a bunch of “Anti-Joke Chicken” and “Bad Joke Eel” memes).

Post-pancake party carnage. Maria smiling dead center, Rachel on the right. My hydration buddy photo-bombing Rachel.

We headed out, Dan spending the night in a real bed at Matt and Maria’s place, and NF crashing at mine. We spent some time stretching and foam rolling before we hit the sack – at this point we knew for sure NF wouldn’t be able to run. He’d had to cut a couple runs short in the week and a half leading up the race due to his IT band seizing, and even after taking several days off during the taper, it seized again two miles into a three-mile test/shake-out run Friday morning. He was majorly bummed – as was I – but knew it was the right call.

Race morning

Lights out before 10, and my alarm at 4:30 had me bolt straight up in bed. I had no race nightmares for once (though I’d chatted with Maria about this phenomenon, describing some I’d had before. She’d never experienced this before… until I mentioned it. Sorry, Maria.)

I got right to work getting into my race outfit – Brooks singlet, lucky race day sports bra (we all have one, don’t we, ladies?), and bum wrap, and lubing and sun-screening up. With full sun, though I tan well, I didn’t want to dick around with sunburn, and knew sunblock would also serve to keep me a little cooler. I had my usual pre-race breakfast of 3/4 cup oatmeal cooked in water and drank some more water. I knew I was pretty adequately hydrated, and didn’t want to have to run to the portos 16 times pre-race, so I mostly just sipped.

My cat demonstrates her morning stretch routine on my yoga mat. Those feet are NF’s

By 5:30, we were headed down to my car and swung by to pick up Dan, then to get Rachel, then caravaned downtown with Matt and Maria following us in.

Rachel on left, Dan on right being a goofball

More goofiness!

Me getting caught with my warming shirt pulled up as I try to secure my bib. Don’t ask about my facial expression.

I’m not sure if it was the heightened security, or if we got there a little later than previous years, but the roads were more of a shitshow than I had recalled. We managed to eventually get to a parking lot a few blocks from the corrals, though it cost $10. Womp. Oh well, there are worse things. We also had to jog around a smoker – wtf?

We had enough time to jump into a porto-potty line and get all geared and Gu’d up. And of course high five and get a pre-race group shot.

Left to right: Rachel, Dan (with penguin, Gregory), me, Maria, and Matt (check the Ragnar DC team shirt!)

We headed toward the corrals – Dan and I were both in B. I got a last hug and good luck kiss from NF before we had to disappear into the runner-only area (mad props to the race officials on the security measures. Never felt inconvenienced – though I would not have complained if I had been a little for the sake of safety – and the security presence made me feel relaxed and safe). They were starting to sing the national anthem as we jogged over to the back of Corral B (really more like front of Corral C), much closer than I ever recall getting to the start line. I could see the 3:45 pacer, and knew we were therefore close-ish to the 1:50 half pacer, though we never really found that leader. We danced along to the music that blasted through the speakers, made sure our music and garmins were all set, goofed off and pumped each other up, agreed to run a relaxed 8:45ish first mile, and were raring to go. I was pretty nervous, but gradually relaxed. We were both targeting about 1:50. I knew Dan liked to surge, so I’d have to probably pull him back at points, but he’d keep my pace honest when I needed. Game on.

The Race

The elites and corral A are off!

Before we knew it, the race began! There was the usual shuffle-bottleneck-shuffle as we edged toward the timing mat, but being in Corral B meant that we didn’t have quite the same crowd I’ve struggled with in previous years. I hit START on my Garmin a few seconds before we hit the mat, and tried to ignore the pace and settle in, knowing it’d be a little crazy at first, with the crowds, the dodging, and the tall buildings messing with satellites.

So remember how I said we were going to start easy, 8:45ish?

Yeah, funny joke. It took a while to lock in – I could tell my Garmin was going haywire because of the buildings as we worked our way out of downtown, clocking low 6s, then 6:30s, then low 7s for the first mile, but it beeped at 8:22. AKA goal pace.

Well, okay.

We relaxed into a groove, chit chatting a little and soaking up the vibes. The sun was shining, the buildings were glittering, everyone was pumped and positive, screaming spectators and blasting rock bands playing in our ears. We headed under a bridge/tunnel where everyone always yells and whoops, laughing at the echoes, filled with glee. This is it. This is the day we’ve been training so many, many weeks for.

Dan and I settled into a great groove, sticking to each other like glue. I was able to give him a good blow-by-blow of the course, keeping him apprised of the course’s twists, turns, and quirks. We enjoyed the very flat first couple miles going up Liberty, then the turn to get into Penn heading back in the direction of downtown. I warned him that traffic could bottleneck to a stop there, but we didn’t slow much (though I felt someone graze my back accidentally for stability as we screeched around the turn). We cruised along, and I ignored the first water stop, sipping from my 22-oz handheld. I felt mostly relaxed and was having fun. We headed around a ninety-degree turn to the first bridge crossing, which I gave Dan a head’s up about – the beautiful 16th Street Bridge. The fans were out in FORCE, which was fantastic. Every time I saw a great sign, or someone seemed particularly enthusiastic, or we came to a particularly big clump of spectators, I started grinning like an idiot.

As we ran along East Ohio, I took my first gel (about 3.3 miles in). Very quickly we were upon back-to-back-bridges #2 and #3, both decked out with enormous RUNNER OF STEEL banners at the center of each, marking proudly where we had conquered each uphill side before we could coast downhill. Shortly before stepping onto the 9th Street bridge, my Garmin beeped 4 miles, and also gave me the “lap data almost full” warning. Crap. Awesome running buddy Dan held my water bottle while I deleted all but the last month of data – glad I was able to figure it out again while running. Crisis averted.

We conquered 9th Street, and headed across the single block between this bridge and the 7th Street Bridge, Fort Duquensne Blvd lined with a mass of spectators, creating a kind of scream tunnel. I smiled from ear-to-ear, and we went up and over bridge #3. I told Dan now we got a little bit of a break from bridges, though not too long. We hit mile 5 a little after the crossing, mile 2-5 bringing on perfect, beautiful splits.

8:19, 8:06, 8:25; 8:05

We made our way through more of North Side, staying to the right during the first relay exchange, and enjoying a section of the course lined with beautiful, green trees. I realized the miles were clicking away quickly, and I tried my best to soak it all in. I started to take water at the stops – sipping a couple ounces, then dumping the rest on my head and/or down my back. I wasn’t actually all that hot yet, but wanted to keep it that way. I also got to impart a tip to Dan – telling him to pinch the cup and pour the water in through a small corner, thereby preventing up-the-nose or on-the-face splashing.

We approached 10K, and I’d been steadfastly avoiding checking my overall time, but wanted to know if we really were as on-track as I thought we were. During the first six miles, Dan had surged a couple times, but I had always reeled him back in, never letting more than 5-10 seconds open up between us. I calculated in my head that about 52 minutes for the first 10K would mean we were on pace. As we neared the 10K clock, I checked my watch – we squeaked in just under 52. Perfect!

Mile 6 – 8:14

Official 10K split – 51:56

Dan and I celebrated our little victory, then let a little downhill that follow carry us as we neared bridge #4, the West End Bridge. This was of course bigger than the previous three, but as we crossed, keeping our perfect pace, relaxing into the uphill, we gazed out at the gorgeous view of downtown, taking a mental snapshot. “Look at that view, everybody!” I said to the runners around me, getting plenty of smiles as everyone took a moment to look at that beautiful skyline bathed in sunlight.

We meandered through West End, Dan still pulling away a bit at points, with me taking a little longer to catch up each time, but maintaining my steady pace. I took my second Gu at mile 7, noting that I had yet to feel bonky. Then began the long slog on Carson Street. We stuck together like glue for the next mile and a half or so, getting high fives from the Army folks and struggling up the slope a bit after (those high fives always get me a little bit too amped). I noted around mile 8 that my left upper calf and IT band were letting me know they were there, a familiar sensation that’d been creeping into the end of my runs the last week and a half of training. I told myself to relax, that keeping calm and keeping my speed up would do me more favors than freaking out and slowing down.

8:13, 8:17, 8:21

Somewhere in the midst of mile 10, after getting a premonition from a slight ache in my right side, I realized I was getting a full blown stitch. Determined not to walk unless it became so bad that breathing was a struggled, I pulled up a touch, massaging the cramping area and putting my right arm over my head to try to ease the pain. I visualized my breath going right there and moving that lactic acid out of there, praying this would leave. I comforted myself with the thought that, even if I had a slow mile or two and missed my A goal of sub-1:50, I was still in for a PR, and a great race  no matter what. At this point, Dan pulled further away, and once the mile 10 marker hit, I had lost him completely in the crowd and the throngs of screaming spectators in South Side.

8:37

Into mile 11, I veered to the left of the cones as we approached the full/half-marathon split off. We’d both stream across the Birmingham Bridge, but on opposite sides, with the halfers going left and the marathoners going right. As we were still on Carson Street, a girl with long red hair and an even, smooth gait came up beside me. She looks really familiar, I thought. It couldn’t be…

I looked over at her more directly. “Didn’t we run together at the Frigid Five?”

She looked back at me, then gave a surprised look and a smile. “We did!”

We introduced ourselves and chatted about how our race was going – I told her about my gnarly stitch (and how it had thankfully passed) and she said her stomach wasn’t feeling all that great. We were both targeting 1:50, so I said, “let’s bring this in together!”

We made that turn onto Birmingham Bridge, and as it loomed large under the sun, I muttered to myself, “Time to make you my bitch.” We both eased into the bridge. I briefly lost my buddy, but she caught back up at the halfway point, giving a big grin as she pulled abreast once again. We headed down the other side and around a curve, knowing we were done with the bridges, but not the hills, having finished mile 11 started into mile 12, probably the toughest mile on the course between the end of the bridge, and a huge, steep climb almost immediately after.

We churned up it, keeping as relaxed as possible. We made it up to the top, which dumped us onto the overpass section of Blvd of the Allies (also known as the worst part of the Great Race – a long, grueling, even as it is slight climb, fully under the sun). At a water stop about halfway across, I spotted Dan’s bright spandex shorts and the penguin secured to his waist. He had slowed down for the water stop, suffering a bit, and I called some encouragement to him, and he hopped on our tails.

8:29, 8:41

Official 11.3 mile split: 1:34.33

Meanwhile, near the finish line, NF wonders why he’s only gotten a 10K split from me. Thanks a lot, timing app.

We kept as relaxed as we could, uttering short sentences of encouragement as we approached the exit ramp. We floated down, and gave each other permission to take off and kick whenever each of us felt ready to do so, thanking each other for the pacing and the push. With  1.1 to go, we had about 9:30 left to finish to squeak in under 1:50.

Afraid of getting greedy, I prevented myself from starting to kick until we were about 2/3 down that exit ramp. Then, a horrible optical illusion, I saw the finish line, appearing much closer than it actually was. I knew my Garmin was about .15 or so off the total distance, but at that point, I felt my legs just start to go, and I let the urge to fly carry me.

The road leveled out and I remembered that last little uphill, at which point the finish line banner disappears, and I realized I had a bit longer than I thought. I switched to overall time view, having been staring at lap pace estimate the entire race.

7:28

As I kept pushing, kept grinding, I scanned each side of the crowd for NF, wishing I’d arranged with him which side to look for him on, but also knowing I’d probably not have the presence of mind to recall that even if he had. He apparently did call my name, but the only one I heard was my friend from spin class, Janice, shrieking  “Go Cathryn!” I pivoted my head and shot her a big grin (probably marred with a look of pain). My feet were on fire. I was gasping for air, trying to bring that yellow finish banner closer to me. Don’t give up. Don’t you dare give up now. You have this. You have this. Keep pushing. Commit.

I didn’t see him, but NF saw me!

Make it hurt.

Never. Give. Up.

I saw the gun time was only slightly over 1:50, maybe even under 1:52, and knew I had it. All I had to do was NOT collapse.

Everything else disappeared, all I saw was that bright yellow, and I crossed the finish line with arms in the arm, stumbling past the line and hitting stop a few seconds later, chest heaving, heart hammering.

Last .26 (running-the-tangents fail): 6:27 pace

Garmin time: 1:49.26

Chip time: 1:49.21 (8:21 avg) – new PR***

Post-race

I heaved and gasped. I felt my eyes filling with tears as I put my hands over my mouth. A couple volunteers began to ask me if I was alright, but quickly surmised I was merely overwhelmed by emotion. I thanked them all profusely, barely able to hold it together for the one putting the finisher’s medal around my neck. Come to think of it, I missed getting my official finish line photo entirely (where the hell was that?).

My pacer buddy caught up with me, and we both had made it under 1:50, congratulating each other on great races, and offering our earnest thanks for the awesome pacing those last couple of miles. We both echoed to each other, I couldn’t have done it without you.

We limped our way to all the goodies. I sucked down a cup of Gatorade followed by some water, got a heat blanket draped around me, and was handed a plastic bag. BRILLIANT. Every been at a finish line with hands full of bananas, bagels, cookies, fruit, and a water bottle and not known how the fuck to carry all of it? This was an awesome idea. Pacer buddy and I loaded up on everything we could find, and kept gushing about the race and perfect day. I pulled a major creep-o and asked if it would be weird if we could get together to run sometime, given that we’re clearly really good pace partners. She actually lives on the other side of the state, but her family is in Pittsburgh, so she told me her last name so I could Facebook her. We should be able to meet up at future races for sure!

After one last congratulations and thanks, we split off so I could go to the family meeting area. I found my big, tall, handsome, supportive, sweet redheaded fiance, and I limped over, since my IT band had COMPLETELY seized after the finish line. He gave me a big hug and congratulations as I started to gush about the race, how great it felt, how I couldn’t believe I did it, how Dan had helped me keep on pace so perfectly for 9 miles, how I wrestled with the side stitch, and how I’d found the girl I’d told him about from the Frigid Five again at mile 11, and we pulled each other in. We were quickly joined by more buddies. Dan and Rachel weren’t far behind me, and my friend Carmen, whom I went to high school with, Had just missed sub-1:50 by 4 seconds and was close behind them meeting up with us after getting his timing printout. A little later, we chatted and I had put on my compression socks and was trying to choke down a banana (tummy didn’t really want to eat), Matt and Maria joined us on the heels of an equally successful venture, having finished together in about 2:15, with Maria’s toe – which had been giving her problems – cooperating with her for the whole race!

NF captures me grinning and sweaty in my victory

Left to right: Dan, Carmen, NF, and me

After some more hanging out, we eventually wandered back to our cars and headed back to NF’s, picking up some bagels and blobbifying ourselves for the afternoon before celebrating with an early dinner with the whole group plus a few more (Ragnar teammates Tim and Alys, and friends Devin and Jose, who hadn’t raced but joined in on the fun) with junk food (burgers!) and beer at Rock Bottom before seeing Iron Man 3 (highly entertaining), and crashing hard for the night after that.

What now?

After the celebrating, and I’m still in celebration mode now, to be honest, I’ll be taking at least a week off from running, possibly two. I usually take at least a handful of days, but with my IT band on such a razor’s edge, I know I need to be cautious and get it back in working order. This will mean lots of stretching, foam rolling, and strengthening. I took today totally off, and tomorrow night will go to pilates (where my instructor will ask me how my race went, because she’s awesome). I’m hoping to get a good core and lower body strength routine going and be much more diligent about it. I let the strength/cross-training slide in the last month of training  per usual, and now I’m paying for it. When I start running again, I’ll go garmin-less for a bit – run familiar routes and maybe check start and finish times if I care to or even remember to, but otherwise just get some happy miles in. I don’t start structured training again until early/mid-July, and want to enjoy every second of this between-cycle pseudo-off-season.

I honestly still can’t believe how far I’ve come. From a 2:09.58 in my first half-marathon on Thanksgiving Day 2010 to a 1:49.21 in May 2013. Wow. NF thinks I should shoot for 1:45 at Air Force in September. We’ll see how I feel in the coming weeks. All I care about now is recovery -including for NF and his poor IT band and enjoying running, eventually with my boy again.

Confession: I’m a little freaked out about Sunday.

 

I may need someone to carry me across the finish line…

Honestly, I go back and forth. I can feel those nerves like I felt the week of Just a Short Run (scene of my last two PRs, including my recent 1:52, a 7 minute PR), where I was going in with a pretty big (but ultimately attainable) goal without my usual support system. The level of nerves is pretty much the same, but the type of nervousness is different.

For one thing, I will not at all be lacking for a support system this race. I have a ton of friends running this one. NF will of course be there (and there’s a chance he may be pacing me? But I”m not counting on it – I need to rev my own self up, and let him run his own race if his IT band cooperates). His high school buddy Danimal will be there (he’s chasing a similar time as I am, so we’re probably going to try to stick together, if the corrals allow). And lots of our local friends, including other friends from NF’s program, and who knows – I may bump into some familiar twitter faces in the corrals.

The course is familiar. For once the course didn’t change from last year, and even then, a lot was similar from my first year running it in 2011. I know it’s hilly but not THAT hilly (not for Pittsburgh, anyway). I know Birmingham Bridge is freaking brutal. I know basically where the water stops are, where the flats that I can charge are, where I need to start kicking if I have it in me.

But I also know how humbling this course can be, especially if it’s as warm and sunny as is currently being predicted (50-72* low to high, partly cloudy so the sun could be beating down on us. Plus the forecasts have been undershooting the high temps all week). I have visions of the half/full split last year, heading into that last 5K, where I’d hoped to start picking it up in the thinner crowds when the marathoners left, and then kick the final 1.1, and as I came onto Birmingham, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, I had to walk.

I had a lot going against me last year, as I see it. Yeah it was a milder winter but I won’t be any more or less acclimated to this heat. Last year my iPod was on the fritz (yes, I’m still heavily reliant on music while racing – so sue me) and the fact that it was randomly pausing and skipping songs was distracting and frustrating, especially since it started happening just as I was really starting to need the boost music gives me. My new iPod has worked flawlessly (having a better, non-moisture-trapping armband helps).

But all of this, honestly, is meaningless. Sure, having music helps. Knowing the course helps. Being able to brave the heat – or lucking out and getting cool weather – helps, but as long as I’m hydrated and not feeling dizzy, what I really need is guts. Tenacity. I need not to give into those demons. The ones that I know I will hear chanting when I hit a low 8-minute pace, “you’re going too fast, you’re going to blow up.” The ones that cackle when I fade to 8:40s, “and you thought you could break 1:50 – ha! You’ll never get it now.”

The ones that will tell me I didn’t do enough hill or strength work to handle the climbs and bridges (even though I know I did – we can always do more, but I hit the hills at least once a week this training cycle, and tried to do squats and lunges regularly).

Part of me wants to give myself a pass: I got my massive PR this season. Why not just take it easy, come in at a respectable 1:55ish (which would be a major course PR, considering this course has beaten me to a pulp both years I have run it), enjoy the sites, then come back stronger than ever for the next training cycle, when I’ll get another crack at the flat-and-fast course at the Air Force Half? Why not try to just eke out a slight PR (breaking 1:52 would be cool).

The truth is, I’d be pretty happy with all of that. But when I toe the line on Sunday, and in those first few miles, if I”m feeling it, I want to go for it. I want to bang out the 8:24s I need for that sub-1:50, even though trying to do that the last month has thrown me into a mental tailspin for the runs that involved race-pace miles (moving up from 8:40s to 8:20s because I had undersold my abilities is cool, but, um, also very hard).

Then, of course, there’s Boston… I want  leave my heart out on the road for them. Dedicate every mile to them. Miles for those injured. Miles for those left permanently scarred or maimed. Miles for the first responders. The last 5K to the three lives lost.

A lot of people talk about the value of a mantra. I’ve cycled through a few:

Dig Deep. Brooks even put it on the shoe laces of my favorite racing kicks, the Launch. I also put it on my Road ID

image yoinked from willrunormargaritas.com, via Google Images

Suck it up, princess.

 

Keep pushing. Don’t quit. One more mile. Up and over. Relax. Patience. Grind it out. Reel him in. Thrown down the hammer. Push.

But one I came to recently has been giving me a little extra edge. One that actually came from a totally different sport (one I’ve practiced since I was 3, but haven’t gotten the chance to do for a couple years).

Commit to the fall line. 

In the technical sense, it’s about leaning down the mountain, rather than back up against it, which allows you to carve your turns properly, rather than making jerky, stop-ridden turns. It can be terrifying, especially for  new skiers. But you have to commit to it. It’s actually a mantra my mother adopted for life in general, and I found it working well for me, even just shortened to one word.

Commit.

As I laid down almost perfect 7:20 mile repeats a couple weeks ago, every time I wanted to slow down, even just a little. Commit.

As I ran with the pack of women at the 10K the other week, telling myself to be patient, to relax, to just ride their current, when I saw one trying to surge and pull away, Boston and I pulled abreast, with one word singing in my brain. Commit.

As I glance at my watch during my last, quick, rust-shaking 2×1600 workout on Tuesday, going balls-to-the-wall, the first digit on the second repeat a “6.”  Commit.

I’ll need to listen to my body on Sunday. I’m getting all the sleep I possibly can. Doing a long stretching and foam rolling routine every night before bed. Hydrating like crazy, and will be adding electrolyte tablets to my water the next couple days to keep it balanced. I’ll be wearing sunscreen and a hat and as light and lean an outfit as possible (singlet and shorts or Oiselle bum wrap, leaning towards the latter) to try to keep cool. If I start to feel dizzy, feel woozy, disoriented, I know I”ll need to slow down, even walk.

But if it’s just the demons, just the nagging doubts in my mind, I know what I need to do. How great that 10K felt, and the 8 mile tempo with almost perfect splits just a few days later – which felt, not quite effortless, but fun. I know what I need to do to complete the race I know in my heart of hearts I am capable of.

Something weird happened today. Something the average mid-packer doesn’t experience very often, if at all (at least, I hadn’t before – and maybe I”m alone in that).

In the middle of a 10K, I felt like I was in an actual race.

But let’s back up.

NF and I had been planning on doing this race for a while – at least he was, for sure. Coming off my PR at JASR, I was pretty pumped for it. Then when I crashed-and-burned on that 10 mile progression run the very next weekend, I decided to just take it as it went. We’re hitting the peak phase of our training, or really in the midst of it. But after looking at how we could just cut out a couple easy runs this week, freeing up Wednesday to other cross-training and Friday to a total rest day, I decided to just go for it. We had a kickass track workout Tuesday, ran five miles easy (separately) on Thursday, rested Friday, and ran 15 yesterday. The long run felt pretty good overall – it took us both a while to settle it. He started feeling good about 4.5 miles in. I didn’t click in until at least 8 or 9, but finished feeling strong, and was happy when I compared this 15 miler with the last time I ran 15 (last August), given the huge time improvement, not to mention my attitude – amazing what a little breakfast can do for your outlook.

We’ve been down this road before – at the end of last September, we ran 16 miles the day before the Great Race. That week was a cutback week for marathon training, so at least all the runs were easy. But today our legs were not fresh at all, same as last September (maybe more so for the track workout).

We woke up at a leisurely 7 a.m. for the 10 a.m. gun, grumbled about the cold temps (29* when we woke up), ate some oatmeal, and drove to Cecil Township at about 8:15, arriving in plenty of time to mill around. We hung around the race start area to watch the fast 5Kers finish, stood around some more, and with about 15 minutes to start, shed our layers, tossed my bag aside, and jogged maybe 1/2 a mile or so to warm up. We did a decent pace, and I felt myself slide into some race-pace pickups, which felt remarkably good. Still, I was apprehensive. The last time I did this, I went in with such low expectations – no way I can even get sub-50 in a 10K the day after a 16 miler – and walked away with a big PR. Now I had some pressure weighing down on my mind, not to mention the lead in my legs.

We absorbed the warmth of the pack as we stood at the start, getting antsy (at least I was) and waiting for the gun. We wished each other luck and exchanged kisses, and a few minutes later, we were off!

I quickly latched onto a girl wearing a yellow jacket, sliding into what felt like a fast and comfortable clip. With my lowered expectations, I was thinking I’d do flat 8′s for the 3.1 out, and see how fast I could come back in (the course is on Montour, so basically flat, but with a slight uphill grade out, pretty much all downhill back). So I was mystified when I was still right by NF. And then checked my watch: 7:10 pace.

Crap. Better back off. I eased way off the throttle and watched it tick down to 7:30s/7:40s (my PR pace is 7:47). I quickly got passed by a wave of people as the pack started to stratify. For the moment, the leaders were in sight, but that quickly changed as we strung out further. I settled behind an older gentlemen hammering 7:40s for the first mile or so, and then latched onto a 20-something dude in a gray shirt with red singlet over who was going low 7:40s as well. I knew he was aware of my presence, and I came abreast of him a few times (which I got the feeling he wasn’t necessarily a fan of), but we sort of silently paced each other for a good mile or so. I dropped him at one point, but he pulled ahead of me later and stayed there. No big. He kept me on pace for a while, for which I was grateful.

This whole time, I kept one eye on yellow jacket girl, her long brown ponytail skimming behind her. I kept a bull’s-eye on her back – she was maybe 20 seconds ahead of me, and if nothing else, I didn’t want that gap to grow. At the very least she would keep me at a strong pace.

A couple miles in I started getting inside my head a bit, the doubting demons chattering in my ear. You ran 15 yesterday. You can’t hold this pace. You’re going to blow up. Why don’t you just slow down? But at the same time, other than usual fatigue from being early in the race and knowing you have to keep this pace up for a good while longer, I felt pretty good. We went through a tunnel maybe half a mile from the turnaround cone, and my garmin lost me a bit. I ignored it going through, since I knew it would likely lose signal and it was also dark and damp and slick in there. I was edging up on yellow jacket, so I focused on her back and checked my footing intermittently. When I came out, my garmin read 9:45, having lost me, then quickly jumped down to 7:10. Whoops. I don’t know how much it lost, I think maybe .08, but the way back was much worse…

We came to the turnaround, and that was honestly the worst part. You get a nice downhill grade for a bit, then have to slam on the breaks to get around the turnaround cone, then run up the little grade on the other side now that your momentum is totally destroyed. That hurt, but I also had the out-and-back feeling of “every step is a step towards home, so let’s do this thing” feeling.

Things started getting interesting just before the tunnel. I was off yellow jacket’s shoulder, just kind of shadowing her, following her very even gait and rhythm. She looked smooth and strong and as annoying as pace hogs can be, I figured I was probably helping her as much as she was me. Suddenly we were overtaken very quickly by a girl in a red shirt, dropping a quick surge to scoot in front of us. She remained just a few steps ahead of us and we kept even, keeping just behind her. We went through the tunnel and my Garmin got completely and totally lost. When I came out it had been trying to figure out whether I had completed the last mile (I went into the tunnel at like .81 of a mile) and was reading 3:30 lap pace. HA. It read mile 5 as 6:27, but beeped WAY before the marker, so it was unfortunately totally bunk, and I lost all sense of my real pace.

But the race was on. Red shirt led our little pack, and a girl in blond pigtails and a Boston jacket (I wanted to hug her) pulled astride with us. I glanced around and we all kind of sized each other up, running in what felt like 7:30s or so but I was of course lost to pace at this point. Yellow jacket girl threw in a surge and the rest of us tucked in behind her, allowing her to pull us along. I was suddenly completely focused and relaxed, having been really distracted after the turnaround, especially by the sudden influx of traffic, now flowing two ways as the rest of the mid-packers were heading toward the turnaround. I fell into a groove and, though I felt pressure to keep up with this pack of chicks, felt oddly calmed by it. It felt like they were just pulling me along like a current, and we were sharing the work.

Red and yellow threw in a couple more surges, and Boston and I would move up, stride for stride, never truly surging, just matching and pushing the pace a little, not quite ready to show our cards. With maybe a mile and a half to go, red shirt got dropped, and yellow jacket surged a bit again as Boston and I stayed together across a small footbridge (flat, thank goodness). But shortly thereafter, and I’m not sure what happened, but we managed to drop yellow jacket. Not sure if we just broke her or she blew up or wasn’t ready to kick yet, but we kept pushing and she disappeared into our rearview.

Boston and I kept clicking away. We didn’t really talk, just kept running, staying smooth and relaxed. I felt this jolt of excitement – this was insane, this was a real race. We had been surging, and pushing, and being tactical. Sure, I’ve passed people in races, or paced off of them, but only to get good rhythm going, or encourage myself not to give up on a PR. Never because I wanted to truly try to beat anyone.

With maybe two-thirds or three-quarters of a mile to go, Boston looked at me with a big smile and said “thanks for the push!” and I returned the smile, saying, “you too!” We drifted down a hill and I relaxed my gait, letting it pull me, then tried to say relaxed on the uphill side, knowing the last 1/3 was all downhill. I wondered to myself if we’d stay like this til the end, a duel to the finish. But after the hill as we started coming around the last curve before the finish came into sight, I threw down the hammer and lost sight of her. I think she was honestly just a few seconds behind, but I had eyes only for the clock. Glancing at NF as he was shouting encouragement and cheering me on, tossing my gloves (which I’d peeled off around mile 4 or so) in his direction, and willing that clock  not to tick over 48 before I got to cross the mat. I don’t remember the music I was listening to. I don’t really remember how much pain I was in, or how I was making my legs move. I flew across the line, gasping, eyes wide at the clock: 47:40 (I thought it was gun time, rather than chip time, so had started my Garmin with the gun – or airhorn, as it were).

I struggled to remove my chip from my shoe, and when I turned, there was Boston girl, all smiles. We chatted for a few moments, shaking hands and grinning and thanking each other profusely. We realized that it seemed to each of us that the other was pushing us, but it was a complete team effort, not wanting to give in, and just pulling one another along.

I found red shirt girl when I was getting water and shook her hand as well. I never caught up to yellow jacket, unfortunately, to congratulate her on a great race, but hopefully she had a similar feeling to the rest of us about our little pack.

NF and I celebrated, limping down to the picnic area to get our food – I gorged myself on potato chips and wings – and FREE BEER!! We stuck around to see the times posted, when I found out it was chip start! I got a 47:36 officially, a 46 second PR! I managed 5th in a field of about 67 ladies 20-29 (why was my age group the only decade age group?) is great for a mid-packer, so I’m pretty damn pleased with that.

This week is peak week, though the long run will be cutback since we’ll be 7 days out at that point. We’ve got a lot of miles to cover this week, though, including an 8-mile tempo (6 @ tempo) and an 8 mile easy run during which I’d like to hammer out some bridge repeats. I’m hoping I can make it to the Boston Strong run tomorrow night, so will have to tweak mileage the rest of the week. But we’ll see how the legs are doing tomorrow.

The Boston Marathon is huge. Iconic. Legendary. If you qualified to run it, you’re lauded as a Real Runner – fast, dedicated, and maybe a little bit crazy (well, all of us marathoners are a little crazy, aren’t we). It’s the holy grail – this fierce, fragile thing just outside the average mid-packer’s (like myself) grasp. We dream of it. We hunger for it. We’re not sure we’ll ever get there – on those runs where we break down in tears, bonk so hard we’re not sure we can move another step, fail to make our goal time by a smidgen.  We want it so badly.

And yet.

Thousands of others are there for other reasons, innumerable charities for which runners spent hours and sent dozens of emails and phone calls and Facebook posts and blog posts and tweets scraping together as many pennies as possible for a worthy cause. They line up at the later waves, sometimes running in the heat of the day, sometimes for hours longer than the wave 1 qualifiers, smiles on their faces and joy and passion in their hearts and footsteps.

Boston Day is often a day made for heartbreak. Newton Hills crushing down on the fatigued legs of Ana Dulce Felix, looking back in dismay to see the chase pack of women reeling her in, finding another, unimaginably fast gear. The heartbreak of Heartbreak Hill. Shalane Flanagan’s eyes welling up when she crossed the line, the podium having slipped away, even as she laid out her heart in those last 385 yards, plain for everyone to see.

But the last heartbreak I expected on Marathon Monday was the one I found when the friend whom I’d been excitedly chatting about the race with – and plotting out her own first marathon training plan; is there anything more inspiring than watching Boston? – pointed me to twitter, telling me something had happened at the finish line.

I shed a few tears, lapsed between sadness, and rage, and despondency, and hope from watching all those who were leaping into the fray to help. I felt numb when I went to the grocery store after work, as I forced myself to eat some dinner, as I went to a coffee shop to read – just to get out of my apartment. As NF and I sat across from each other and mulled it all over.

Yesterday morning we had a track workout scheduled, and a brutal one: 9 miles total, with 5 by 1 mile repeats done at 5K pace. It’s one I have done once before, so I knew I could, but it remains scary and intimidating. Hours before my feet hit the track, I knew who I’d be doing my miles for.

The morning was dark and cool and crisp. We walked from my car to the track, peeled off layers and left our things in lockers, sucked down some Gu and headed back outside, turning on our watches and sliding into an easy warm up. There weren’t too many runners out there – there was another couple present during our warm up, booking along at a fast clip. A guy doing 400 meter intervals later on, and a very fast faculty member getting his miles in towards the end.

I celebrated each perfect split, the evenness of my stride, the strength in my legs, heart, and lungs. By the end of the fourth repeat, I was gassed, but knew I could not give up – not today. Four out of five was not enough today. Lap one ticked off in perfect time, but by lap two I felt myself slow, felt the lead begin to set in. Boston. I picked it back up and corrected my pace and was right back where I needed to be – even a few seconds ahead. The agony of lap three – when you’re halfway done, but still feel like you have forever to go – loomed before me, but I thought of those runners pushing to the end, then plunging back into the fray. The onlookers caught up in the blast. The family and friends and even perfect strangers who came to cheer them on – a day of celebration ending in devastation.

Thinking of Shalane – her first Boston forever colored by heartbreak, her beloved hometown devastated – I threw down the hammer on the final lap, ignoring my watch and pushing as hard as I could, my legs and lungs on fire. When I punched stop across the final line, I fell to my knees and cried.

Boston has always been a far off dream for me. I’m not fast, have never claimed to be, even as my speed has been improving. I got so many messages and calls that day and the day after – from friends, from family – wondering if there was an off-chance that I’d been there, or thinking correctly that I knew people there (all of whom are safe, thank goodness). My mother apologetically admitted she was relieved I hadn’t yet qualified (I don’t think I even told her it was a secret, fleeting hope)

In just a couple of weeks, I’ll be toeing the line at the Pittsburgh half. There will be heightened security, to be sure, and I wonder how Monday’s events will affect spectator turn out. But I know what the feeling at that start line will be like, or at least have an inkling of the sensation of standing shoulder to shoulder again with my running family, many of whom I’m sure will be donning Boston blue and yellow: filled with love, hope, determination, grief, joy, passion, and the desire to leave it all out on the road. I have an aggressive goal, and I may fall short, but every time I want to slow down because my mind fears my legs will give out, I will think only of Boston.

This training cycle has been a bit of a whirlwind. Last year at this race, I broke two hours – I was gleeful, finally having cracked the time that for many is the holy grail. But that bar keeps getting raised for each of us. I was ready and eager to break 1:55 at Air Force last year, but a turned ankle on a tempo run the week of the race killed that. I may have been able to race just fine, but with Ragnar around the corner and taht team counting on me, and so many weeks left of marathon training – my real A goal of the fall – I had too much to lose to risk it. Early November, during a 12 miler taper long run, I averaged 8:45 miles – which would have earned me the coveted sub 1:55 had I run 13.1

This year, NF and I decided to be pretty aggressive with our training. We’d been training smart and pretty hard for a couple of years. Last fall, we designed our own training plan for the marathon – a risk given it was our first full, but a necessity given our racing schedule in September (Air Force midway through September, Ragnar the weekend after that). With that race successfully finished, we wanted to give it another shot: design a smart and aggressive training plan for the Pittsburgh half. We’d been doing long tempo runs – the absolute key to speed over distance, no question – and longer mile repeat workouts. So with these ingredients, we added one more thing: race pace miles during long runs.

In late February, only a couple weeks into training for the Pittsburgh half, we ran the Spring Thaw, a local race that runs around a 5-mile lake loop and allows you to choose your distance at any point, adding on our dropping down mid-race. We were scheduled to run 10, and NF – sweetie that he is – agreed to pace me through the first 10 miles, which I hoped to run at half-marathon pace. I was nervous, given that we were so early into training, but with my goal being 8:40-8:50, I thought this would be pretty manageable. In the first mile, I was trying to find the pace and glanced at my watch, which NF sternly corrected. He was amazing – he watch hawked for the both of us (an exhausting endeavor) and just let me find my groove. “We’re going a hair fast, but this little slope coming up will slow us down” or “we slowed up a bit, but we’re about to go downhill a bit” or “perfect.” I’d check my splits when they beeped, and was seeing 8:3x every time, with the exception of miles during which I slowed a bit to get some water at an aid station and suck down a gel (I didn’t carry water for the race. It was cool out and there were aid stations aplenty).  When my watch hit 9 miles, I took off and wished him well – he finished up 15 on a rough day – and I cruised hope below 8 minutes, averaging 8:33 overall, 12 seconds per mile faster than goal. What a boost!

For many long runs in the past, I’ve tried kicking the last one or two miles at race pace, but haven’t done anything different than that. Now I knew I could sustain my goal pace for 10 miles, which was extremely promising. We got in a couple solid track workouts, and I nailed my splits, in addition to lengthening tempo runs, including a 7 mile tempo the week of Just a Short Run (JASR), with 5 miles at tempo. A few weeks later, we ran a 13 mile long run with four miles in the middle at goal half-marathon pace. I managed every single one under 8:30e. I was crushing my goal paces, and it was like getting confidence injected directly into my veins.

We’ve run JASR a couple times now, the first time as an 8.1 miler just as a pure long run, last year as crushing PRs for both of us (NF in 1:43:xx and me in just over 1:59, my first sub-2), so I knew it was a great course and a great race. It’s a perfect scenario: it’s a rolling to flat course with only one hill of any consequence – it starts as a 5K ice rink loop (home of the one hill) followed by 5 mile lake loops (run the opposite direction of Spring Thaw). The only problem this year, was it was scheduled for the Saturday before Easter, which was super early. NF headed home to see his family for the holiday, a few other running buddies were also out of town for similar reasons, and here I was, with huge PR dreams, only about halfway through training, and without my sidekick. True, we don’t race together anymore (unless we’re running it for fun, or the occasional time he’s rabbiting me) but we get up to that ass-early alarm, eat breakfast together, get nervous and jittery together, hold each others’ stuff as we sprint to the porto-potties, make sure we have our gels, Garmin, iPods, etc., and exchange a quick pre-race kiss. What was I going to do without my best support system?

I managed to arrange to hitch a ride with super-fast friend Rob and a couple other dudes he was driving. Friday night before the race, I got to the packet pickup without incident (the fact that it was Good Friday helped the traffic situation) and dropped a lot of bank on a new-fangled muscle roller torture device. My IT band had been squawking at me more and more as the week went on. I got some sushi for dinner (carbo-loading during Passover is hard – and yes I know I technically shouldn’t eat rice but I”m not that observant and I had to eat SOMETHING) and popped in “Spirit of the Marathon” for some motivation… and gently and slowly stretched every muscle in my body I could, from head to toe. I eased into my hips, then busted out the foam roller, lay in pigeon pose for like 5  minutes, before using the torture device on my tight left IT and almost crying in agony as it worked out the last vestiges of tightness.

Good news – no pain the next day during the race!

I woke up at 5 a.m. and heated up the breakfast quinoa I had prepared (seriously, Passover, you’re crimping my oatmeal-lovin’-carbo-loading style) – cooked in apple juice and seasoned with cinnamon and ground cloves, with chopped walnuts and apple mixed in. I was nervous. I was jittery. It felt like a 5K was imminent – a deathly hard effort, but one where a good jolt of nerves revs the engine. But a half? This was a bit much.

Rob picked me up promptly at 6:45, and we swung by and got his buddies and lots of times to wander the race site. I got in the ladies room line immediately since it was huge, and chatted with a couple of runners (and saw a Oiselle team ambassador also in line!). After some hemming and hawing, I took my pre-race Gu, sucked down water from a throwaway bottle, and headed to the start line. The 30K start was a few minutes prior (since they have to tack on about a half mile to the 5K + three 5-mile loops) and with them, Rob. I chatted with one of his buddies before going to step in front of the 2 hour pace group… and found a 1:55 pace group! The stress immediately dissipated  “I didn’t know this pace group existed!” I said excitedly to the leader. With markedly less enthusiasm, he replied, “Well, we exist.” I tried to make small talk to a girl standing near him, but she didn’t seem interested, so I just tried to get in the zone. A few minutes later, we were off!

Well, as soon as we crossed the timing mat, it was clear the pacer was going too slow. Not in an easing-into-it way either. So, the relaxing effect of his presence having already taken hold, I just took off and did my own thing. I knew the hill was in the first mile, so I just relaxed and tried to ignore pace, trying to find a groove. I kept it just under nine, especially when the double-dip hill ended with a sharp right turn into a screaming downhill. I was fine easing into my pace, knowing I had plenty of time to speed up later.

It was a beautiful morning, though it started chilly. It was the very end of March, and spring had been taking its good old freaking time arriving. It was low-to-mid-30s at the start, and I was shivering my my thin long sleeve with vest over (pockets – yay!), capri tights, cap-and-earband combo, and gloves. In fact, my fingers were numb and cold for the first 5K, my body trying so hard to warm itself. But the sun was shining and it eventually got to the low 50s, and the cool air made it a lot easier to try to push it, so I was not going to complain.

I was quickly sliding into 8:30s – faster than goal – and even a couple 8:20s, but felt relaxed and good, and was getting passed by a ton of people, which I tried to let go of. I came through 5K a little faster than expected: I think 26:3x or so. I was trying not to watch-hawk much, checking splits but ignoring my overall time except at the loops just to see how I was doing overall, especially since Garmin distance is always slightly off actual distance. I felt myself slowing a bit and took in a gel at a water station about four miles in (I again didn’t carry water, which limited when I could take a gel, and I had to really pay attention to when they were coming up if I was chasing a gel with water) and my stride smoothed out again.

Eventually I found a few sort of pacer buddies. I traded the lead with this one couple a few times, me pulling ahead on uphills, then coming even and pulling ahead on downhills (I’ve gotten better at charging hills in recent months, it seems) and a couple other folks who stayed within my sight line. The multi-loop nature of the course really helps break the race into manageable chunks, and helped me take it one loop at a time. I checked my overall distance and time when we finished the first lake loop, knowing that Kevin Smith (store owner and race director) usually mis-measures the mile markers, so my mile beeps are WAY off, but the overall distance is spot on. I came into the 8.1 mark at 8.2 on my watch, a good thing to keep in mind later in the race. My pace was still faster than goal, but I was feeling fantastic.

On the back half of the last loop, I was starting to feel fatigue creep in, as well as some chattering, doubting demons, perhaps more of the latter than the former, in actuality. The back half is more rolling uphill than down, but still totally doable, but I knew I was feeling those miles, and that I was getting nervous about when to kick, if I was going to make my goal, and any other doubts creeping in. I came up alongside a woman running a perfect pace, right in the low 8:40s. I looked over to her and asked, “half or 30K?” She was running the 30K, and I confirmed for her I was running the half. “Sorry to pace hog,” I said, “but you’re running my perfect pace right now.” “Well, then,” she said, “let’s bring you on home.”

We exchanged a few words here and there – about the course, the nice weather, what we were training for, how we were feeling, what our pace was.” My watch beeped 12 miles – well ahead of the badly placed 12 mile marker – and she said, “Don’t let me hold you back. You look strong.” I waited a bit closer to the marker, then just before I took off, thanked her for the company and pacing and wished her a great last loop.

I glanced at my overall time in that moment. 1:55 was possible even if I crawled the last .1. Let’s see just what I can do, I thought, and felt my stride lengthen and my upper body relax into the pace. It ticked down faster and faster. Just below 8 minutes. 7:50s. 7:40s. A guy I’d been chasing back and forth in the last few miles – one of my unofficial pacers – picked it up when he felt me on his tail. I can’t recall now if I passed him in the end, though I think I may have. I saw the finish line through the trees, and knew I just had to keep relaxing til I got to the tennis courts. I kicked it up a notch, then, and mentally pulled that 13 mile marker closer and closer to me. My arms churned. My legs were on fire. My lungs gasped. I beeped the last mile a bit before the marker – 7:23 pace. I felt like I was dying. I saw Shirtless Dude – a Pittsburgh running legend (yes, I know he has a name, but a lot of us just call him Shirtless Dude) cheering people in. He pointed right at me and shouted some encouragement. I managed one smile and looked at the glow, seeing the first digits: 1:52.xx. Holy shit. All mental capacity disappeared. I felt like I was running through a swamp. I didn’t grin in victory. Didn’t lift my arms like I usually did. Just leapt across the line as I was mindlessly punching “STOP” on my Garmin.

How I know I gave it my all – look at that pain face

I stumbled through the finisher chute to grab my medal (pretty legit this year!) and wandered to the food line, knowing Rob would be finishing the 30K any minute (I joked with him that my goal was to beat him. “I’m even giving you a 10 minute headstart,” I said, “because I”m generous”). I grabbed a water bottle, banana,.a bagel, and was about to reach for delightfully salty pretzels when I remembered with a groan. Passover. I pawned the bagel on Rob when he finished, and settled for salty chips instead of pretzels, devouring the banana and sucking down the water.

Rob’s buddies rolled in and we wandered around waiting for results to be posted and nibbling on food before we packed it in. I was texting everyone like crazy about my PR, posted officially as 1:52.03. Exactly seven minutes faster than my previous PR on the same course the year before.

One thought that dominated my brain after the euphoria wore off in the following few days: Now what? Well, my reach goal is now to break 1:50 – which would require improving my pace by 9 secs/mile. Doable, but hard, and Pittsburgh is likely to be a much warmer day, and is a much less forgiving course. B goal will be to PR, even just by seconds. Otherwise, I’d like to make a respectable mid-1:50s showing and have fun. But the latter part is kind of always the goal.

Last weekend, we did a 10 mile progression run at the end of a cutback/easy week (all easy runs, lower mileage overall). We were in different states (I was in Ohio doing wedding stuff, NF was in Knoxville doing research stuff), so we just reported back to each other on how it went: 4 miles easy, 3 miles at half-marathon goal pace + 15 seconds, 3 miles at HM. I woke up to 65* temps (not hot by any stretch but it had been 30* just days before and it was like a suckerpunch of acclimation) and winds gusting to 25 mph. And the wind was only at my back during the warm up. I stared at my watch the whole time. I overdressed (did NOT need long sleeve – actually went in just a sports bra a few miles in, which I loathe doing). I went too fast on the easy part. My HM + 15 segments were perfect, but for some reason after that, I just started breaking down. I quit so many times during those last 3 miles, I hardly count the splits as legitimate. I was totally gassed the rest of the day and had zero appetite.

And yet, this week, I had an amazing 7 mile tempo run, and this morning had a 14 miler on a glorious sunny morning, and I crushed my last 3 miles at HM pace, just as planned.

Anything can happen on race day. We have two more weeks of hard training to go before our one week taper. I’m listening to my body, while trying to ignore the demons. I’m getting good mantras and power words going (which I may write about later).

So, Pittsburgh half, my 3rd PGH half and my 7th attempt at the distance – what will you bring to the table? And will I be able to dig deep enough to overcome?

I know, I know – I disappeared again. But I’m happy to report that after 2+ months of zero training, some occasional racing (for fun), and even an age group award, I’m back in training?

So what have I been up to? Well, the holidays saw a major slump in mileage – surprise. Although I’m not sure I can qualify it as a “slump” given how much my mileage had tanked. But I was clocking “fun runs” when I could (no pressure for speed, just run what felt good) and cross-training up a storm. My left IT band was pretty dicey for a bit, actually. It was feeling tight down toward my knee, and the pain ended up even creeping down to the outside of my shin (not a shin split – it was more lateral than anterior). During a group run with NF (the artist formerly known as Nerdy Boyfriend, aka NB), the muscle seized on a small uphill, and despite trying to stretch it out, we had to turn back early. It sucked cause it was cold out, but what are you gonna do? I managed to job in the three-quarters of a mile, going slow and taking tiny steps with high turnover (which I suppose is good practice anyway). It had tightened during a trail run several days before – it may have been the uneven terrain I was running on, given the plethora of snow.

Either way, I’ve amped up my strength training: I’m trying to be as diligent as possible about foam rolling and stretching, doing my pilates sidelying series, and doing a lot of lower body strength work, particularly squats (regular squats, single-leg squats, split squats, and eventually jump squats), as well as lunges, calf raises, and leg extensions. Just trying to keep everything in working order, and prepare my body for hill training.

Since my last post, I raced twice. On New Year’s Day, NF and I were in Athens, GA ringing in the new year with his family, and we raced a local 5K – in the chilly rain. I wasn’t sure at all how I’d perform, and went in with low expectations, hoping to have fun. It was a great little course: it looped a local park, only backtracking on itself a little bit, and and one semi-cruel out and back portion. Per usual, I bolted out of the gate in the teeny tiny field of no more than 100 or so (maybe 200, max). I paced off another girl who looked to be my age, but wondered if I’d be able to hang on. We traded spots back and forth quite a bit, her pulling even or ahead on downhills and flats, and me pulling ahead on uphills (!!). Just after the one mile mark, my right shoelace came untied. I cursed, carefully moved to the side, and retied the shoe (triple knotted), wasting precious seconds to secure the other laces as well. No way was that happening again. I maybe lost 15-20 seconds on this, given my fingers were cold and wet from the rain.

I spent the rest of mile 2 playing catch up on rolling hills. I was behind my pacer, but I slowly but surely caught up, overtaking her on a hill. By mile 3, I had dropped her, and on the out-and-back portion, NF and I high fived as he passed me coming back in to the finish. I cranked my finishing songs and kept on pushing through the hurt. As  my watched beeped 3 miles, I came careening down a down slope and around a curve to the finish, sprinting with all my might, and finishing in 23:19, a PR (previous was 23:42 back in September 2011, on a much faster course). My garmin measured it as 3.08, but either way, I still would have PR’d. And I even walked away with some swag! First place in my (new) age group, 25-29! NF kicked butt as well, slicing time off of his PR and getting second in his AG.

By mid-January it was time for the annual Frigid Five Miler, one of our favorite local races. The first three miles are pretty fast, though still tough and rolling. Four flattens out and climbs a bit, and in the last 2/3 of a mile of the race, it’s all a huge, steep, winding uphill. We again were in it to have fun, and to celebrate the warmest weather ever for this race! Almost 60! I wore shorts and a singlet, it was insane.

I again found a pacer, and we switched off leading several times. For a while I thought I might be ticking her off, but eventually the camaraderie became clear. We didn’t really speak until a couple short, huffing words on the last climb, but we were silently supporting and pushing each other, maintaining a tough pace and firing each other’s competitive drives. She overtook me on the hill (I took a couple of walk breaks and as far as I know, she never quit - maintained a slow and steady climbing pace) but we shook hands warmly after the finish. She got me to a huge course PR – just a hair over 40 min by chip time (my last mile I managed under 10 min pace for the first time ever. All the miles before were fast mid-7s)! (I won’t say 5 mile PR because 1.) this course has  been short the last two years and 2.) this course is NOT an ideal five miler, either way.

Of course this was not quite as small as the Athens race, and the competitiveness of my age group showed: I placed 9th (respectable, but damn those girls are fast).

Now training has officially begun. I’m trying to maintain Body pump once a week (probably Mondays) and pilates on Tuesday evenings, though I managed to tweak my left deltoid this week so skipped pilates as a precaution. Both my runs this week have been stellar. I did a hilly 5 mile “easy” run after work on Tuesday, and kicked its butt, averaging close to my goal half-marathon pace for this season. And yesterday? Despite sleeping in and pushing my tempo run until the end of the day, and thereby having to fight foot traffic at rush hour in Oakland, I had an absolute blast. True I ran a light and a car honked at me (oops – sorry!) but I obliterated my paces, negative-splitting each one and running 10K PR pace or faster. I’m sure this is just excitement from a new training cycle, but I have to say, I hope it sticks around!

My spring season is looking like this:

Spring Thaw – February 23: 10 miles (planning to run at HM goal pace)

JASR – March 30: half-marathon (hoping for race pace, or at least a slight PR)

Pittsburgh Half-Marathon – May 5

It’s been three weeks since the marathon – which I can hardly believe. My next big race isn’t until early May, so training doesn’t start until mid- to late-February. And I am blissfully happy about being in the off-season. It’s been a very long year. 

So what have I been up to? Well, over Thanksgiving, it was pretty much a whole lot of nothing besides eating, lounging, visiting with my future in-laws, eating, going on an occasional walk with their dogs, and did I mention eating? We tried a run on Thanksgiving morning as sort of a must-run-on-Turkey-Day tradition, but NB was congested (I called it marathon flu. He was actually running a fever at one point) and I just… wasn’t feeling it.

The next week, I headed back to the gym: I hopped on the elliptical, I jumped back into my spin class, and of course pilates – my absolute favorite. After a week and a half of pretty much no running, I went for an “easy” run on Thursday. Too fast. Then I ran a couple more miles on Friday, also too fast.

And on Sunday, we went to a race. There was a 5K and 10K with the option to do it as 15K. Well, both courses were short (apparently a volunteer misplaced the turnaround cone for the 5K, and the 10K – well it was probably six miles on the nose, and it just wasn’t an officially measured course. Which is fine, whatever). I ran the 10K, and NB – after having pushed hard in the short 5K – paced me for the first 4.5 miles before dropping back, and helped me get some pretty rockin’ splits. My age group (they did decade AGs since it was such a small race, though I’ve recently aged up to the 25-29 group otherwise, which probably means no AG awards until I get CONSIDERABLY faster) was all bunched up so I got 5th, but it was still pretty sweet. And I won a raffle prize – Asics arm warmers. And I had just been complaining about having lost one of my arm warmers I bought last year!

Saturday, we went to the Jingle Bell 5K, which was a fun event but very poorly run. It was cute: everyone was dressed very festively, a lot of green and red, some people wearing elf or Santa or  Christmas tree (yes, people dressed as trees) costumes, and everyone had jingle bells tied to their shoes. We weren’t planning to race it, just run 8:00-8:30 pace, have some fun. It was supposed to be a certified course, but according to Elite Runners & Walkers’ facebook page, after the turnaround cone was set, the cops moved it (why???) and the lead cop (on a bike, I assume) turned onto the trail too soon. What DOESN’T make sense about that explanation are the mile markers. Mile 1 was right on the money, mile 2 was at 1.8, and there was no third mile marker. If it wasn’t screwed up from the start, what was up with the mile markers??

Another thing: we were done with the race and after some dilly-dallying talking to runners about the length of the course, we went to the food tent about 25-30 minutes after the gun went off… and the food was already pretty much gone. Bagel crumbles. Green bananas. Not much water. What the hell?

So while the race itself was charming, everything else about it was fairly terrible.

Today I tried my first body pump class. I’d been meaning to try it for a couple weeks now, but laziness and scheduling stuff put it off until now. The class started at 6:15 and I got there nice and early so I could get assistance. I asked a woman in the class what I needed, and she helped me pick out weights and get my mat and step set up. Then I made a point of walking up to the instructor and explaining I was brand new and if there was anything I should know. He checked my weights and said it was a good place to start, and to take it easy and just follow his cues. 

Well, I knew this class would kick my ass, even taking it easy, being the first one, and the fact that I haven’t been lifting that often in the last six months or so. But damn. I’m going to be in a WORLD of hurt tomorrow. Body pump is basically a group weight lifting class with high repetitions. We started with light weight and a variety of lifts to warm up. Then during each song, we’d focus on a muscle group: legs, chest, legs, triceps, more legs, biceps, even more legs, back and shoulders, some more legs, and abs. You’d get a slight respite between each song, and sometimes we’d set the weights down and shake ourselves out for a couple seconds but otherwise it was go-go-go. Near the end we were doing pushups, which I’m bad at anyway, but I was seriously almost cursing as I prayed that my completely depleted arms wouldn’t give out entirely.

After the class, the instructor gave me a generic “good work” and asked, “So was it easy?” I replied, “No, but I wasn’t expecting it to be.” He seemed to be surprised by this. An older woman in the class seemed dubious it was my first class. Apparently I look like a pro. But I”ll be walking around tomorrow like I’m crippled, so we’ll see about that. I spent a lot of time stretching and foam rolling (and almost yelping out loud in pain) to try to get a jump on it, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I can do.

So that’s been the first few weeks of my off-season. I’m still not feeling a strong desire to jump back into running – it’s more like a guilty feeling. “You should be running.” I think by next week, I’ll be chomping at the bit ,and I’ll ease back into a running routine, include lots of easy runs, some longer weekend runs, and some fun tempo runs and speedwork. My plan is to not skip any pilates or spin classes (unless I get stuck at work for the former and miss it) and go to body pump at least once a week (his class is M-W-F, but Wednesday conflicts with spin). If I get two more months or so off from real training, I’m going to enjoy it: work on my strength, mental toughness, and just play. 

I’ve done it. I’ve completed my first full marathon. I can call myself a marathoner! It was  grueling, thrilling, wonderful experience. And here’s how it all went down.

Race weekend

Like a boss, I forgot to actually request off Friday November 16 from work (though my boss let me have it. I’m a genius). But after a quick detour to the DMV (I got a new license the day before mine expired – and now have a PA driver’s license. Woohoo!) NB (who needs a new pseudonym as he is now my fiance and has been so since September!) and I hit the long road to Philly. It was about a five and a half hour trek, actual drive time anyway, and we made a stop at a Bob Evans for pancakes (etc.) in a little podunk town called Carlisle – which served us well the whole weekend, actually – and got gas for like $3.49 a gallon. I got a little too excited about that last part, honestly.

It was definitely late fall at that point, but we were lucking out on weather: it was cool, crisp, and very sunny. We got into Philly in the afternoon and headed to the expo and packet pickup at the convention center. The expo was a little blah – a lot of the booths I was looking for didn’t have any presence (Brooks! I missed you!) but we still saw some cool stuff, AND got these awesome shot glasses that say 13.1 (at the half shot mark) and 26.2 (full shot). Fantastic. We got our shirts (fantastic), bib numbers, and packets without issue.

After the expo, we checked into the Hilton for our one night stay. It was a pretty nice room, and after some chilling out time, we walked to a local Italian place that I’d found via Siri (thanks, Siri) for another carb-filled meal.

Well, we walked the about 15 minutes there… only to find that this was a VERY popular spot. The host asked if we had a reservation. “No, is that going to be a problem.” “Yeah… we’re completely booked.”

Nuts.

So we stood in the alcove (it was chilly out) looking for an alternative and resigning ourselves to the possibility that we’d have to actually move the car from its parking spot. But thank goodness we took our time, since as we were wandering back toward the hotel, a hostess shouted after us, “A table just opened up!” A two-person reservation had just cancelled, and we were in! Huzzah!

We had a FANTASTIC meal. Unfortunately we couldn’t celebrate with wine since the place was BYOB and we were ill-equipped, but we still had a marvelous time. After dinner, we curled up in the hotel room watching “Groundhog Day” on my laptop before hitting the sack.

We slept in luxuriously and I got in touch with my cousin Laura who lives in Philly with her hubby, Guy, and their darling 17-month-old baby, Lily. After some scheduling, we headed to a restaurant Laura recommended nearish her house called Sabrina’s, which apparently is like the Philly version of Pittsburgh’s Pamela’s: great food, tiny and cramped, bustling staff, and always a line out the door for brunch. I got to talk to Kowalski and try to return some other birthday calls while we waited for our table, and once we were seated we ordered quickly and wolfed down even more carbs. We would NOT be going into this marathon under-fueled. Nosiree.

Immediately after brunch, we headed to Laura and Guy’s BEAUTIFUL home and met their gorgeous little Lily. What a doll! I knew she was a cutie from pictures, but she was such a sweet, charming, funny little baby. I could barely stand it. Laura was apologetic about not being entertaining enough, but we honestly had a blast. We went to the park and then walked to a dog park so Lily could look at the puppies (“pup-ee. woof woof.” *melts*) and marveled at how beautiful Philadelphia is. I’d been that once before, at the end of senior year for that day trip with McBride’s class, and once again I was content to do day-in-the-life rather than the touristy stuff. Plus we did need to rest our feet prior to the race.

Their refrigerator was busted, we ordered in, and NB and I got pancakes (naturally). Lily was in bed by 7 and after watching a couple DVR’d shows with Laura and Guy, we all soon followed. We both slept fitfully, not helped by their very cute, very fat, and very disruptive Cat, Porter, who kept stepping on us in bed and purring like a motorboat.

Pre-race

The alarm woke us at 5 a.m., and it was breakfast time first thing. I packed us a ton of oatmeal (1 cup each. Our usual half-marathon breakfast is 3/4 so I upped the ante). I couldn’t finish it – I think it was nerves. We got dressed and after some debate, I opted for capris rather than full tights, a regular long sleeve (instead of cold gear), and my toasty Brooks midlayer jacket. I went to town with bodyglide and vaseline, and donned a hat, earband over Air Force cap, gloves I bought at the expo (I know, I wore something new. BAD. It was fine though. It’s just gloves) and a throwaway sweatshirt with a broken zipper. And of course my trusty Brooks Launch.

We opted to walk the mile and change to the start rather than drive and deal with parking. We knew the walk back would be pretty painful, but figured it would probably be good for us in the end. We made it to the first port-o-potties we saw without about 45ish minutes to the start. We blessed the portos and then headed over to the purple wave corral (NB was in gray, technically, but we started in the later wave since we were running together). And as luck would have it, we were RIGHT in front of the Rocky Steps! (aka the Philly Museum of Art)

We met up with my twitter pal (and now real life friend!) Kristin and chattered excitedly about race strategy and gleaned from her all the tips we could for a first-time marathon.

The Race

At 7 a.m., the race began, though we had a looong way to the start, since we were pretty far back. We considered at this point that this race was pretty huge – record numbers, including some displaced NYC marathoners (so much support for them! They had their own corral. It was great). About 21 minutes in, we crossed the start, and were off! There was a lot of crowding, and our first few miles were pretty slow as a result, but I soaked it all in. We stayed pretty near Kristin for a while, with the understanding that whenever someone needed/wanted to break away, we would, and try to catch one another at the finish. Maybe a mile in, a saw a group of gals in matching outfits, one whose shirt said “I’m the bride!” and the rest said “I’m with the bride!” I chatted with them a bit and found out the bride was getting hitched in 3 weeks. I congratulated her and wished them all luck in the race. How cute is that?

As the miles clicked away with astounding speed, I enjoyed the incredible crowd support and amazing volunteers. NB got called out a lot for his Pittsburgh half shirt quite a bit, so we saw a lot of locals, and one guy stayed with us for a couple minutes to chat about how great a race this was for a first time marathoner, before he cruised off to crush the half. We also saw FANTASTIC spectator signs throughout. I wish I could remember them all, and will probably update this post with more as they come to me/as NB reminds me. Here are just a few:

“Only [extremely large number] inches to go!” (this was like 4 miles in or something)

“Smile if you’ve already pooped yourself!”

“Smile if you’re not wearing any underwear!”

“Welcome NYC Marathon refugees!”

“Motivational sign.”

A bit before mile 7, as we crossed the river, we saw our cheering section! NB spotted Laura first, and we paused for high-fives, and Laura flagged down Guy, holding Lily, for more high fives. Laura said later that Lily got really excited about giving runners high fives and was reaching out to them, but getting snubbed a lot. The trouble with being so very, very little.

Our pace was improving as we went. We had one mile that was in the 8:50s along a very flat stretch (one where I saw quite a few dudes just off the course, backs to us, answering the call of nature. It was kinda hilarious how many there were). The course grew a bit more rolling, and we passed by Drexel, including fraternity row, which already reeked of booze. But the brothers were out their cheering, so I wasn’t complaining. As I’d heard, miles 8 and 10 were hills, but nothing a couple Pittsburgh runners couldn’t handle. I almost wanted to cackle at all those I saw walking. You should try Negley sometime! (but seriously: I’m a huge hill wimp. I’ll be the first to admit it)

As the halfers split off, I knew to try to keep things in check – they’d be surging, and we had a long way to go. But it wasn’t that hard, honestly, since we had a problem. NB wasn’t having a good day. Just a few miles in, and he admitted to feeling more run down than normal. Uh oh.

I kept up a Gu every four mile schedule (and had packed plenty of spares to ward off a bonk), taking one at 4ish, 8ish, and 12ish. We headed toward Schuylkill for the long out and back (with a couple smaller out-and-back section. I was pumped by the crowds that cheered us on, and was a happy that the field was a lot less crowded. I had heard the second half was lonely, but I never felt it. There was plenty to pump us up. Around mile 15, NB was struggling. I reminded him that we could slow down, that we just wanted to finish this and have fun, so we took a brief walk break. The course was scenic, but some the mini out-and-back structure of some parts was kinda grueling. I was feeling a bit run down, but nothing too worrisome, and I occupied my mind by trying to figure out ways to boost NB. We made it through that first short out-and-back, and headed out for the longer haul. Around mile 19ish, there was a beer stop (legit), and the smell didn’t bother me til the way back, though I declined to imbibe both times.

Shortly after, NB gave in to something that was nagging him: he’d been running in his ankle braces as insurance (he sprained some tendons a couple weeks prior to the race), and now they were causing him pain. We stopped along the side, clock ticking, and he took them off as I felt all the energy drain from my legs, and forced myself to hop around so I didn’t totally die. Once we were back in business, we walked for a few seconds to get the blood moving again before breaking into a jog.

At the turnaround, the crowds were screaming, and shortly thereafter was the 20 mile mark. Just 10K to go, I told myself, feeling okay – tired, but okay – and ready to try to push.

The running gods had other plans. Those last 6.2 miles were the most painful of my entire running life, bar none. We got boosts from the spectators, the amazing volunteers, the water and Gatorade we started taking at the aid stations very liberally. I had taken my 20 mile gel at 19.5 to ward of a bonk, and then took a last gel at mile 23 (with some to spare in case). Our pace was slowing. We were hurting. NB was in visible pain. He kept telling me to go ahead without him, but I refused. I would not leave him behind. He would never do that if the roles were reversed. He needed me. Plus, despite his claims that I could go get a better time, who’s to say I wouldn’t have pushed too hard and blown up?

We walked a couple more times, but I got him back into a jog as quickly as possible each time, reminding him how hard it would be to start running again the longer we walked. All around me I saw marathoners in agony. People were stopping to walk. People were stopping to stretch. People were stopping to grimace in agony. Someone was getting her hands bandaged from a bad spill. Someone else was curled up in a ball under a space blanket as an ambulance came roaring down the parallel road. But we were still moving. Hurting, yes, but okay.

Managing a smile. I think this was pretty late in the race. 20-something.

The mile 25 since was like Mecca, and I encouraged NB, telling him we had less than 5 laps of a track to go, asking him to find just a little more. As we crossed to mile 26, I shouted to him to find one more gear, easing up to match strides, trying to pull him along with the last vestiges of energy and enthusiasm I could muster. We were going to miss all of our foolishly set goals (well, except one that I had set for myself, but it’s petty so I won’t even go there, at least not here). The crowds were screaming. All of my muscles were burning. My heart and lungs were strong, but I wished with all my might to drag that finish line closer to me. I threw up my arms and smiled for the cameras as we crossed the line, NB right by my side, our watches reading about 4:17.30ish. (chip time: 4:17.31).

On the right – NB is in green and I’m cut off in the blue

We are marathoners!

Post-race

We hobbled through the finisher’s chute. NB was completely depleted. I shut off my watch and music and grabbed onto him, repeating over and over “I gotcha, I gotcha.” We received our medals and I made sure he got his space blanket (and then I forgot to get myself one. Oops). We got in the food line and stopping to stand there caused everything that hadn’t already seized to do so. My feet killed. My calves ached. My quads and hamstrings burned. My glutes, piriformis and hips were on fire. Even my upper back and shoulders were sore. We grabbed bananas, oranges, cookies, pretzels, water, and the all important BROTH. Liquid, electrolytes, protein, and warmth? YES PLEASE. We bumped into Kristin in the food line and chatted a bit. I wish I’d had my wits about me more to chat more, but it was still great to see her and briefly download about the race.

We limped over to some spare curb to try to eat and hold onto everything, and NB suddenly seized me in a hug and we were both in tears: exhausted, exhilarated, completely and totally spent.

After we gathered ourselves a bit, we started back, hobbling along slowly. I texted Laura to let her know we were on our way – at a snail’s pace – and we agreed to talk about food once we got there. They were really nicely hands off when we got in, besides letting us in. We both collapsed on the floor in the guest room, putting our feet up and stretching, before we got cleaned up and slowly made our way upstairs, dressed in comfy, clean clothes and compression socks. They made us veggie omelettes (saints!) and got us hydrated, and we chatted and watched Lily play. Lily took a real shine to NB all weekend. It may be because he very much resembles her uncles Ben and Jeff (redheads with facial hair) but at the park the day before, she’d walked right up to him and stuck her arms out, asking to be picked up. When Guy took her back, she cried and insisted on being given back to NB. And I had snapped this adorable pic with my phone:

We became a bit more human as the hours went on, helping each other stretch and trying to rest and move often as the same time. By 4:30, we were hitting the road, with many hugs and much thanks for our wonderful hosts. I took first shift driving, and we stopped often to stretch and switch, and made a stop for greasy burgers and fries at Red Robin in Carlisle, PA and topping off the tank for uber-cheap again.

It was an amazing experience. I can’t even really describe it or do it justice. I have no regrets. Sure, I wish I could have run faster, but I still wouldn’t change how I ran this race, given a chance at a do-over. Even in the last couple miles, when my muscles felt like they were breaking down and my hamstring was seizing, I thought to myself, “I can’t wait to try this again.”

My poor abandoned running blog. I got so behind, I just got overwhelmed. I have a lot to write about, but here’s a race report to hold you over until the rest:

 

I was up at 5 the next morning and immediately got my pre-race grinds: black coffee (with sugar) and my normal amount of oatmeal, since I had SO MUCH TIME before the 9:30 am 10K start. I had my outfit all laid out the night before, deciding to wear what I had intended to wear for the Air Force half, which was injured for, having wrenched my ankle during a tempo run that week and not wanting to take any chances, even though it probably would have been just fine. I was donning full on Brooks pretty much head to toe, and threw in some Pro Compression socks for good measure. Because they make me feel legit. Also, kept my calves a little warmer for the chilly waiting around part.

I also donned a throwaway shirt, cause it was a TAD chilly. Rain was in the forecast, but not until like 11 a.m., when we would be finished. Oh, weathermen. The epic failure.

A little before 6 a.m., I had a car full of people, and NB took the wheel: I crammed in the backseat between NB’s mom and his roommate Rachel, and NB’s dad road shotgun. We soon arrived downtown and found reasonable-ish parking, heading down to the bus lines. We deposited NB’s parents in their bus line and then stood inside the atrium that led down to the T, getting some wind blocking for at least a little while before our own buses started their route.

We arrived up in Squirrel Hill to almost no lines at the portos – though it turned out that NB, who had scored a seeded bib, could have used the Special Elite Portos, but he stayed with us laypeople until the start. I eventually found Ellen, and MCC found us, and we stood around chatting and trying to warm up our muscles. I could feel those 16 miles in my legs, and wasn’t sure what my chances were for anything close to 50 minutes. Ellen was running her first 10K and was hoping I would pace her. I told her I probably wouldn’t be doing sub-50. “Please, I want to do it! you can totally do it!”

Ready to race! Left to right: MCC, NB, Me, Rachel, and Ellen

Fifteen minutes to start, after getting our picture taken, NB went to warm up and then headed to the seeded corral, while I tore off my throwaway shirt, took my Gu, and did some butt-kicks and high knees to try to warm up a little. We had a decent starting spot so I didn’t really want to move anywhere. Plus, I figured I wouldn’t need a warmup when I wasn’t trying to PR.

Soon, “shout” was playing, per tradition, and the gun went off. The seeded runners had taken off and I silently wished NB well as the rest of us accordioned our way to the start line. I hit my watch a little late – like a second, maybe – and was soon cruising down Beechwood stride for stride with Ellen. As we made our way up the hill and onto Forbes, we kept each other within sight, trying to weed our way through. The first mile is very rolling, and with adrenaline in my veins, my watch was reading a low 8-minute pace, which is perfect for a sub-50 finish, but I figured it wouldn’t last. We hit the first mile in 8:03, and as I called the split to Ellen, we were starting to cruise down Forbes hill.

Soon we were running a low 7 minute pace, and while I knew it was the hill, I warned my companion to watch the speed so we didn’t burn up our legs. The hill rolled back up and we came screaming around Morewood. The second split ticked off in 7:20. It’s the hill, it’s the hill, I said to myself, but the next split was reading just as fast. “I’m going to have to back off,” I said. “I can’t keep this pace.” My legs were already starting to protest – or maybe it was my brain. Ellen wished me well and assured me I would catch up with her (I didn’t, but perhaps if I hadn’t run 16 the day before…)

I clicked away down Fifth Avenue, staying much closer to an 8 minute mile, but a few seconds below. I wanted to slow down. I even sort of wanted to walk. But I just let myself relax and slow up a bit, hitting about 7:50s, when I noticed one of my co-workers (whom I’d recommended this race to). I chatted with him for a few seconds, wished him luck, and then let him go. My pace had ticked back up to 7:55, and as I crossed the 5K mat, I saw I was coming in under 25 minutes. I could actually PR this thing. Because of my fast mile 2, I’d built in about 45 seconds of cushion for mile five: the dreaded long, slogging uphill of Blvd of the Allies.

Around the halfway point, it started to rain. First just occasional drops. Then a light, misty drizzle. It was cooling me off, so I didn’t really mind it, and slogged on. By the time I came down the on ramp heading toward Blvd of the Allies, it was raining steadily. I eased up my pace a little and quickened my cadence, worried how my shoes would do on the slick surface (and silently thanking myself for choosing my Brooks Launch over my Pure Flows, the latter of which I feel would be slippery in those conditions). I hit mile four in 7:47 and kept on.

As always, the climb was grueling. It doesn’t even look like a hill – it’s subtle, but it’s there. Around me, people were slowing down. Near the end of that long mile, some were walking. I told myself I could ease off, but I wouldn’t let myself walk. But somehow, I managed to click away that mile in 8:13, and was thrilled. The road finally dipped down, and though I kept my speed in check for the exit ramp and a quick spot of brick walk, I felt myself starting to kick.

I had an amazing playlist going, and a little bit into mile 6, I switched over to my current favorite finishing track from The Dark Knight Rises soundtrack, “Remember the Fire” (seriously, listen to it: I guarantee you’ll want to run fast). I was running low 7s and thought I could be in trouble, but I knew I had plenty of time – a PR was basically guaranteed, as long as I didn’t trip and fall on my face. It was raining pretty hard at this point, so this was actually a reasonable possibility.

I hit mile 6 (by my Garmin, anyway, and we know how accurate GPS can be) in 7:09 and came down the long finishing chute. The running surface changed once more, and it was suddenly narrow and crowded, so I didn’t kick as hard as maybe I could have.

This is my suffering face

But strides from the finish, there was Rachel! I pushed hard to catch her, but she edged me out by literally a second. Not that I mind. We both clearly owned this race.

Psyched to see the clock!

I glanced at my watch: 48:21 – since I started it late, my chip time was 48:22, but I was SO thrilled. It was a huge PR, after basically no speedwork for a month. And having done 16 the day before. I was astounded. Apparently marathon training is making me faster!

NB and I found each other quickly – he had run a killer race, too, running 43:15 – and I met up with Ellen and Rachel to talk about our races (Ellen ran like 47:30ish. Ridiculous. Girl is a BEAST) and wait as NB tried to find his parents in the pouring rain. Eventually we gave him my phone and went to stand under a hotel overhang, where we eventually found NB’s dad, and called NB into the hotel, since that’s where his parents had decided to meet up.

I am so attractive

We packed it in – the rain finally letting up a bit – and went to our separate abodes to get cleaned up, before NB picked us all up to go to Bagel Factory on Craig Street for some grub. We were going to get breakfast/brunch, but considering it was around noon, I sprung for a burger and sweet potato fries. What’s marathon training for if not for eating ALL the calories?

Previous PR (on a course my garmin measured short but was allegedly USATF certified): 49:47

Chip time/new PR: 48:21

Pace: 7:47

 

Only a few more weeks of marathon training. More updates to come – lots on Ragnar DC, marathon training, 20 milers, and oh so much more. Stay tuned!

I went into this race with two goals: run it, proudly, for my Granddad – whose life was taken in September 2009 by two cancers, including prostate (this race benefited prostate cancer research) – and try to have fun. I wasn’t expecting miracles. Hell, I was expecting to be all that fast. So why is when I go in with such low expectations that I always seem to crush it?

Pre-race

We woke up bright and early Sunday morning: 8 a.m. gun means 5:30 wake-up. I got right out of bed, hit the bathroom, then went straight for the coffeemaker. My morning addled mine had me mis-measure our oatmeal, giving us a full cup each instead of half a cup each. Oops. We only ate half and got rid of the rest. Oh well. We ate our breakfast and hydrated and talked strategy. NB was hoping to start off easy with about 7:15s before kicking it up t 7s, and then try for sub-7s later in the race. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. My PR had me doing about 8:25s, so I hoped to do 8:30s and enjoy the sights.

Since I was doing this for my granddad, I took an old bib and wrote a message on the back (little did I know they had “in memory of/in honor of” bibs available at the race. Oops).

For you, a thousand times over

By 6:30, we were in the car an on our way to North Shore to find parking near the stadium. We had plenty of space, and after a bit of confusion walking around (bibbed runners were walking every which way) and a potty break, we found race morning bib pickup and just hung out, since we’d gotten our stuff the day before. On our way in we saw a rabbit hopping towards us, and when he turned we realized one of his legs was broken/maimed, and he carried it awkwardly above the ground. Poor little guy – I prayed this wasn’t an omen.We chatted with a friend of NB’s for a bit and just tried to relax and zen out. About 20-25 minutes to the start, we did our warmup, cruising at 8:45 pace to get our legs pumping and our heart rates up. NB felt better near the end (we went out about 4-5 minutes, and then back, so we did about a mile) and I felt worse. I wasn’t hoping for much, considering how crappy I felt in that moment.

Soon it was 15 minutes to start and we downed our gels with a little water, pitched the throwaway bottle, and headed to the 10K start. We placed ourselves decently, but despite the small showing at packet pickup, apparently a good number of runners signed up for the 10K that morning so it was a little crowded. My stomach fluttering, we wished each other luck, and when we heard GO, we took off.

Race

As expected, I got sucked into the fast crowd early. I had a good playlist going (though my iPod was on the fritz, which only got worse. Remember when it was skipping songs/pausing randomly during my last speed workout before Pittsburgh, and did the same midrace? Well, a factory restore fixed it…temporarily. Friday it was doing the same during my walk to work, so I restored again. Three and a half miles into this race though… ugh), and was feeling good. I was shooting for 8:30-8:45 for the first mile: an enjoyable cruising speed. But I checked my splits and my eyes widened. Slow down, slow down, you’re going to fast, you’re going to blow up. But my legs would not listen. My breathing was fine. I felt good. So I kept on.

At the mile 1 mark, I laughed out loud: in classic Kevin Smith of Elite Runners style, it was about a tenth of a mile off. My watch red .9 mile, and the guy next to me as he heard the volunteer calling splits (I wasn’t listening to them, since I had my watch and headphones in) he said, “no way did I run that that fast!” I reassured him that the course should be accurate overall (the website said it was USATF sanctioned and certified), Kevin’s just bad at mile markers. My garmin beeped on mile in 7:53. Oops.

The course was quite flat, but the second mile got a little rough with a long straightaway and a slight incline (I think). I kept on cruising, but figured I was going to die and have to drop my pace quite a bit later on. I think I lost track of satellites a bit at the beginning of mile 2 (which would explain the distance my garmin tracked overall – only 6.15) since my pace dropped to high 10s, but I wasn’t slowing down. It quickly righted itself once we got past some warehouses, so I think they just flipped out for a few seconds there. We got into a nice shady path as we moved along, and mile 2 clicked away in 8:01.

Mile 3 was where my early speed was starting to take its toll. I was slipping down into my old 10K pace (still faster than my original thought of 8:30s, and truth be told I don’t get to race a lot of 10Ks). We came up a short but cruel hill and I saw the course turn to a bridge and my stomach clenched in dread. I almost walked but refused to give up, thinking of my Granddad – though not long enough to tear up – and kept on, seeing with relief that the bridge was downhill. Phew!

We were nearing 3 miles when I saw some cones line the road, and knew we were getting close to the turn around. The speed demons were bursting out of a bit of woods before heading down a path. I saw a couple dudes and one very speedy chick before we passed where they emerged from and headed onto the dirt/crushed limestone path ourselves. I was starting to suffer. The path had narrowed, and I felt my pace slowing, but I kept an eye on some of my fellow runners, trying to keep up with one or another to maintain pace. I wanted to walk, but only let myself slow down a little. We edged around a field, still in tree cover, and my iPod stopped. Shit, not again. I pressed PLAY and hoped it would cooperate. It did…for a little while. I did the play pray pause play pray pause dance or a while before throwing in the towel at mile 4.

Meanwhile, we burst through onto the road and curved away from the coming 10Kers. I would have thrown some smiles and waves if I wasn’t so effing tired. I was starting to get a little out of it, and hardly realized it as we came up a switchback ramp up to a bridge crossing. I tried not to watch my pace or distance too constantly, tried to enjoy the sites around me. Soon enough, the 5Kers (who started about 20 minutes after us) appeared as their turnaround met with our path. I groaned, hoping it wasn’t going to get too crowded. It was reasonable, and I was slowing down anyway. I’d been sipping water at every other aid station, and at the second to last one or so, I let myself walk it, seeing my pace was climbing a bit high from the adrenaline surge of the 5Kers joining up. I squeezed the cup to funnel the water in my mouth, then dumped the rest and pitched it in a trash can. I wanted to dump it down my back, but resisted, not wanting to ruin my back bib.

At this point, I had no music and was running on pure adrenaline. As we hit the mile 5 mark, I passed a group of women: two slightly ahead, trying to encourage the girl behind them, who was struggling. “C’mon, just one more mile!” “Another whole MILE?” I almost told her to just think of laps on a track, just count down from there, make it piecemeal, but thought better of it. That could have sounded just as cruel, or worse.

We hit the path right along the river, and I started counting bridges, knowing we were getting close. I checked my overall time and saw how close I was to doing sub-50, which would be insane. My old PR was 52:26 and I thought to myself, you’ll at least improve that. So don’t walk. Just RUN. I passed the point where NB and I had turned around on our warmup and knew I was close, but the course seemed to lengthen before my eyes. I started kicking a half mile out and knew I had to slow down, but I just kept pushing. A little girl on the sidelines was jumping up and down screaming for the runners, and I almost ran her over when she moved onto the path little too far.

As I hit the last mile marker and my watched beeped a little later (I remained .1 behind almost the whole time, which signaled the first mile was measured short, the rest seemed fine. One mile I managed to make up a little distance, so that one must have been long. Still unsure about the course measurement, but I guess I”ll trust USATF?) and I saw my mile 6 time: 7:51. I switched to my overall time, and caught sight of the finishing clock. I dug. I dug deep. I saw NB come into view and I signaled to my time and he cheered me on. Was I going to make it? It was going to be close. My legs churned and I knew I was at my absolute limit, pushing as hard as I possibly could in those final strides. I don’t remember if I threw my arms up in victory. I don’t remember pushing STOP on my garmin (though I clearly did). I just remember crossing the line and wanting to collapse, putting my hand over my mouth as I almost wretched, and tried to remember to breathe.

Garmin time: 49.48

Chip time: 49.47

Garmin measured 6.15, so 8:06 pace, but if the course WAS 6.2, it was an 8:01 pace. Either way, MASSIVE PR, and if the course was properly measured, my first sub-50.

Post-race

Every breath was a heave. I wobbled a bit, and am pretty sure I freaked out some bystanders by nearly vomiting at the finish from the exertion. Sorry dudes. Soon enough I found NB and we headed straight for the food, passing on the bagels so we could get our own breakfast, but loading up on fruit and water (orange slices are the best). As we wandered around, we found someone who WAS vomiting: for like five minutes, into a trash can. Gross. Poor guy. That says commitment to suffering right there.

We hung around a bit more, chatting with a friend, before heading home and feeling victorious. NB’s time was a PR if the course was measured correctly, though we were both a bit skeptical. Either way, we overcame a lot of adversity, and had a great race, especially considering we haven’t ben training and haven’t really been doing any speed work.

Goof

Cutie

Peter Pan pose

We of course headed straight or Bagel Factory after getting cleaned up, stuffing our faces with eggs and bagels and deliciousness.  A perfect end to a great race morning.

–

So what’s next? Well, a lot actually. First of, while watching the Track Trials on Friday niht (holy finishing kick batman, AMY HASTINGS IS SUCH A BAMF. Girlcrush alert. Also, Dathan’s tears of joy? Amazing), we plotted out our long runs for the Philadelphia Marathon. Given our race schedule in September, we decided to cobble together our own plan: I made up two 18-week Runner’s World Smart Coach plans, printed off the intermediate 1 and 2 Higdon plans, and made notes.  Saturday morning we went crazy with NB’s markerboard, plotting out the entire plan (minus the taper, which we wrote on paper since we ran out of space). We went by weekly mileage buildup to try to stay safe and healthy, and were able to work around our races quite well. This was the result:

To translate: XT is cross train (also can be a rest day. I plan to rest on Saturdays for sure, and any other rest I may need throughout). Green runs (e.g. 3M) or easy runs of that mileage. Blue runs are long runs (this was sort of a ski rating system. Sort of. The black pen was running out). Red were speed: T means tempo (so 5T = 5 miles, including 1 mile warmup, 3 at tempo, 1 mile cool); S is speedwork, for mile repeats (so 6S [3x] is 5 miles of speedwork, including 3×1600). Asterisks are races accounted for. September 15 is the Air Force half, which we hope to use not only as a tune-up, but to crush our PRs. Call it vindication from Air Force. And what’s that 18-22 nonsense, or all those 2M/2M and similar? Well…

We jumped on the crazy train and signed up for a Ragnar Relay. My twitter followers will have seen a lot of #RagnarDC tweets lately. 12 runners, two vans, 200 miles, from Cumberland, Md. to Washington, D.C.: everyone runs three legs each, of about 10K apiece. NB and I are hoping for one of the longer segments so our mileage total can be equivalent to a long run of at least 18. We haven’t assigned legs yet so we’ll make personal adjustments to that week’s mileage as needed.

All of this leads up to the Philadelphia Marathon on November 18 – our first full. We max out at 42 miles, including 5×1600 on the track, and a tempo run as long as 8 miles (6 miles at tempo). It’s awesome. It’s crazy. It’s freaking me the hell out. But I’m gonna give it my absolute all, and do it with as big of a smile as I can.