Without Feedback: A Roundabout Race Report

As anyone who has gone through the Clinical Pastoral Education process knows, “feedback” is one of the crucial concepts. Feedback can be positive or negative, helpful or unhelpful. Feedback can help you see what is in your blind spot in the way you function and minister. Feedback can also be painful, exposing something you would prefer to keep hidden, opening up wounds that you thought were already healed. Throughout my CPE process, I learned to value the feedback that I received from my supervisor and my peers. As a priest in parish ministry, I have continued that process by taking feedback from my parishioners and parish leaders and discerning where God might be calling us in ministry together.

As a runner and pseudo-triathlete, I also rely heavily on feedback, mostly the digital kind. My fancy watch spits out my mile splits, my heart rate, my pace, and pretty much anything else I would want to know. On the bike, I get numbers for my pedaling cadence and power output. In the pool, I get strokes per length and pace per 100 yards. All of this gets tracked and input into training logs and analyzed for hopeful improvement. This data tells me when to push harder and when to back off, when to step on the gas and when to rest.

It had been a while since I’d raced a 5K. I’ve run a few for fun or with my husband or for charity, but I hadn’t really pushed myself in that race distance in almost a year and a half. My PR in the 5K was over 4 years old. So I signed up for a 5K on March 7th. Last year, I PR’d in the half marathon at the same event, and I knew it was a well-run event and a flat course. What we didn’t expect was the snow and ice a few days prior. While the roads were clear by Saturday morning, a large part of the half marathon course was not safe, so the race director cancelled the half marathon and let everyone run the 5K.

I arrived at the race start, got my packet and t-shirt, and met up with my parents. When we went to warm-up, I turned on my watch. *Beep* *Buzz* Nothing. I tried again. *Beep* *Buzz* Nothing. The batteries were dead. The watch I rely on to give me my paces, my heart rate, my time was dead. My mom and I jogged a few miles to warm-up while I tried to reconfigure my strategy for the race. I’d told a group of friends earlier in the week that my strategy was basically to go out hard and try to hang on, but without my splits and my pace, how would I know how fast? How would I know if I was running too hard or not hard enough? My mom suggested using a tracker on my phone, but I didn’t want to mess with starting and stopping it, nor did I have a good place to put it while I ran. Mainly, I wanted to focus on running hard, not fussing with my phone.

As we lined up, I felt more nervous than normal. Most of my training has been at a slower-than-usual pace; am I even capable of running fast? The doubts flew through my mind, amped up by the anxiety of the anticipated discomfort I knew I was about to experience. I shouldn’t have worn this heavy of a pull-over. I should have worn a lighter pair of shoes. Why didn’t I bring sunglasses? Then the gun.

I passed the start line with about 25 seconds on the clock. I took off at what felt like a “suicide pace,” to paraphrase Steve Prefontaine, and today was a good day to die. It felt uncomfortable and unsustainable at first, but my body settled into it. I had hoped for time clocks at the mile markers with no such luck. After the first mile market, I backed off a little to catch my breath on and out-and-back section but still kept the effort fairly high. Without numbers for feedback, I had to constantly evaluate my body – how were my legs, my breathing, my heart. Was I tensing up my shoulders or did my arms swing freely? Did I have enough at this effort to run another two miles, one mile, half-mile?

On the last two turns heading to the finish line, I could feel my stomach clench with the effort as I turned up the burners, letting my legs fly. My lungs were on fire, and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. Even without knowing my official time, I had earned myself a PR as the clock time was faster than my previous PR. When the results were printed, I ran a 26:01, an improvement of over 40 seconds. Naturally, my first thought was, “If I’d known how close I was, maybe I could’ve broken 26!”

Maybe I could’ve, who knows? But I was wrong about one thing. I had feedback the whole time, feedback that didn’t come from a watch beeping at me with numbers that I would arbitrarily decide were too slow or too fast. The feedback I relied on was internal – the lactate burn in my muscles, the constant evaluation of my systems, my stride, and my effort. That feedback was there all along.

I can’t say I’m giving up my gadgets for good. It’s hard to imagine running a longer race with a more complicated pacing strategy without that numerical feedback. But maybe every so often I’ll go out and run a 5K as fast as I can. No watch. No heart rate monitor. Just the wind in my hair and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon

Pre-race:

Every year, the online women’s running group that I’m a part of (LLR) selects a city, a race, and a time to meet-up. This year, we converged on Toronto. It had been in the works for a while, but with triathlon training, it seemed to sneak up on me. I had registered to run the full, and Joe decided to tag along and run the half. We arrived in Toronto on Friday, met people at the airport, and our host Lisa kindly picked us up and dropped us off downtown at our hotel.

The next morning, we headed across the street for the official race shakeout run and a talk by the race director and the founder of the Running Room. Even though we stood around for a while, the talk was helpful and informative. People came from Mexico, South Africa, and Australia to run the race, and we met people from all over. Then we set out on an easy 2 mile loop around downtown. After grabbing coffee and some breakfast, we went back to the hotel and promptly ran into a huge contingent of our group. For many of us, it was the first time meeting in “real life,” but due to Facebook and our forum, we all knew each other already.

Several people were going to the race expo, but we needed to get cleaned up, so we made plans to go a bit later. In addition to picking up the packet, I also needed to purchase some arm warmers for the race. The race provided shuttles (well, school buses) to the expo from downtown. That was a nice touch since it meant we didn’t have to fuss with cabs or public transit or walking too far.

It was a good-sized expo, though I think I managed to purchase the last remaining pair of small arm warmers in the whole building. The other group told us where they had signed the big wall, and I managed to find it!

After the expo, we tried to meet up with people at the St. Lawrence Market. I was hungry and needed to eat, and the market was very crowded. We ended up at an eastern European counter, where I got a beef and cabbage roll. By dinnertime, I realized that I had not eaten enough that day. We had reservations for the whole group at a restaurant a little bit from the hotel. A few of us were up for an adventure and took the subway and streetcar, even though we ended up being a little late.

Flouting the advice I’d read in Runner’s World on the plane about not eating too many vegetables the day before the race, I had a kale salad with grilled chicken. I also had two glasses of red wine. Two other LLR ladies who were not with us in Toronto had PR’d in the marathon that day, and after talking with Sara and Margaret, we decided to shoot for 4:25 the next morning. I wasn’t sure what I’d be able to do and had even mentioned that I just wasn’t really feeling that fire in my belly. Sometime in between that comment and dinner, I decided that I wanted to go for it. I would run with Sara and Margaret the next day and see how it went.

After dinner, we planned to meet in the hotel lobby before the race. Much to my surprise, I slept REALLY well, something that rarely happens the night before the race.

Race Day:

Race morning dawned cool (38*) and clear (for a little while anyway). With a late start at 8:45, I slept in until 7 am before drinking my coffee, eating my RxBar, and getting dressed. Then it was time to head downstairs!

We all met up and took pictures, discussed our hopes for our races, and shook out the nerves.

Then we all headed to our corrals to shiver and wait.

The first start was at 8:45, but our corral didn’t get started until close to 9 AM. We crossed the timing mats and were off! After standing around in the cold, my legs and feet took a while to get warmed up. When my watch beeped for the first mile, I looked around for the mile marker and then remembered all the markers would be in kilometers for this race! After making a downtown loop, we had a long out-and-back along the lake. Because it split a few times, we didn’t see anyone else until we turned around. We were ticking off some pretty quick miles, about 20 seconds faster than our 10:00 miles we were shooting for, but I felt good.

A photographer was taking photos from the back of a motorcycle, so Margaret gave her her phone, and she took this action shot of us running and looking happy.

The half marathon split off pretty close to their finish, and we continued on. Our halfway split was right at 2:10, and Sara said, “That gives us about a 5 minute cushion,” more than enough should we start to slow. On another out-and-back, we saw Liz and Stef ahead of us looking really strong and fast.

We continued to tick off sub-10 miles until Margaret’s back started hurting, and she decided to drop back and stretch. My legs were feeling the pace and the distance. I knew if I could make it to the turnaround, it would be a straight shot into downtown from there. Sara continued to encourage me, even as I got quiet, focusing on digging deep.

Our names on our bibs were actually big enough to read, and the spectators made good use of them. I don’t know how many of them know what a huge lift it is to hear someone say, “Looking strong, [your name], you can do this!”

This obnoxious woman from New York came running up and started talking about Marathon Maniacs and running ultras with us. She said she was having a rough day and had been having stomach issues, even as I was struggling to keep pace. I was not sad to see her drop behind us eventually.

With about 4 miles to go, I ripped off my arm warmers, not so much because I was warm but because they were bugging me. We saw a sign that read “Shut Up Legs,” and that was what I needed to push through the immense soreness and pain in my quads and IT bands.

I knew we had one more bridge to go up and over before we got to downtown. As we crested the bridge, I knew I had it in the bag. We ticked off the final few kilometers and made the turn onto Bay Street with Old City Hall in front of us. I knew from the shakeout run that we wouldn’t be able to see the finish line because the road jagged in the last 100 meters, but they had signs with 500, 400, 300 meters. At 400 meters, my watch read 4:18, and I knew breaking 4:20 was not going to happen, but I gave it everything I had left with the crowds cheering us in.

My watch read 4:20:21, official time 4:20:19. I cried and hugged Sara and thanked her profusely. They gave us our medals and space blankets, which I had trouble maneuvering.

Margaret finished just a few minutes behind us, and we found other people still on the square. Liz helped Stef run a huge PR, and a lot of our group had good, solid races. Most of all, we had fun, and we ran together. Those who didn’t run, cheered with signs and crazy hats. It was an awesome experience.

Afterward, we cleaned up, changed, and walked (very, very slowly in my case) to Lisa’s parents’ condo where there was food and beer and more time to hang out together.

Several days later, I’m still flying high from the race, the camaraderie, and the wonderful time I got to spend with my friends.

My First Triathlon

I forget when I first came across this graphic, but it’s always made a lot of sense to me. For a long time, I was afraid of getting outside of my comfort zone because I was afraid of failure. But failure happens anyway, and doing things that scare me sometimes turn out really well.

So this year, I made a goal to complete an Olympic-distance triathlon (1.5 km swim, 40 km bike, 10 km run). Even though I’m a strong swimmer, swimming in open water terrifies me. Cycling is sometimes fun and sometimes scary. But I can run! Not to mention the logistics and gear and training for three sports instead of just one. On the way to this goal, I signed up for a super-sprint triathlon at Cedars of Lebanon state park, which was a 200 yd (pool!) swim, 10 mile bike, and 2 mile run. I figured it would help me get my feet wet, literally.

True to form, May weather in Tennessee is notoriously unpredictable. In this case, a cold front moved through so race morning was in the high 40s. The water temperature was 71 degrees, not too bad, but I was more concerned with getting onto the bike wet. And waiting for the start was a little chilly. Fortunately, my friend Kelly kept me company and helped me set up my transition area as well as lending me a race belt.

Despite the individual start, I quickly started passing people in the swim. For someone used to the order of a competitive swim meet, this was entirely different. The whole swim portion went by very quickly, and I was out of the water and into the first transition.

I threw on my jacket, helmet, sunglasses, and bike shoes. I must’ve looked a little out of it because a bike rack mate asked me if I was okay, though really it was a thrilled look. This was fun! It took me a few miles to feel comfortable on the bike. I’d forgotten that the jacket I grabbed was tight in the shoulders, so I felt constricted at first. Since the course was two five-mile loops, I got to hear my parents cheering for me as I came around both times. I definitely was passed more than I passed, but I tried to keep calm and do my own race. I ended up biking faster than I anticipated anyway!

Into the second transition, I stripped off the jacket and ditched the helmet and sunglasses but had to sit to put on my shoes (quick laces next time!) before I headed out on the run. I quickly realized I couldn’t feel my feet because they were so cold. I also felt like I was running through molasses even though I passed some people who had blown by me towards the end of the bike. The out-and-back run course meant I got to see Kelly heading towards the finish and cheer for another friend I’d made at the start. The run finished up a long steep hill with people non-ironically cheering at the top that we were almost there. (Side note: It is not funny to tell a marathoner at the 10 mile mark that they’re almost there.) Ran through the finish line and received a medal, which I felt weird about. Final time: 1:04:17. Since my goal was to come under 1:15, I was happy about that.

Triathlete! The more I analyzed the race, the more I came to the conclusion that everything went about as well as I could’ve hoped, even despite the colder-than-usual weather. I felt strong and capable from the swim to the run and finished 8th out of 29 in my age group, higher than I usually finish in run-only events. Next up is a slightly longer sprint before my scheduled Olympic in August!

Indianapolis Marathon Race Report

It’s been said that one should run the first third of a marathon with your head, the second third with your personality, and the remainder with your heart. I have no idea what “running with your personality” even means, but every repeat marathoner has some way of mentally breaking up the seemingly endless miles. For me, the first half is about staying calm and comfortable and trying not to freak out. The most mentally challenging portion is the section between 13 and 19, and then once I hit 20, I know I’m going to at least finish.

Finish face:

Two weeks ago, I toed the start line of the Indianapolis Marathon. Leading up to the race, I had been traveling and then staying with Abby and John in London, Ontario. John and I completed the final two running workouts of our training plan together, Abby and I logged a swim workout that Wednesday, and I felt good and sharp. Running slightly faster than goal marathon pace felt pretty comfortable, even to where I could carry on a conversation at a sub-10 minute pace without straining much.

My friend Jen and I have a bit of a friendly competition chasing each other’s PRs. Last year, she finished Marine Corps a minute or so ahead of me, which I then bested at Rocket City. Earlier this year, she lowered her time significantly, and while my A goal was to go under 4:40, my B goal was to beat Jen’s PR…until she clocked a 4:27:xx at Chicago the week before Indianapolis. I even told Abby, “There’s no way I’ll beat that!”

On our drive down to Indiana the Thursday before the race, we were stuck in terrible traffic, delaying our arrival until late in the night, and irritating my knees and hip flexors. Then the weather forecast started to fall apart. After putting in some hot and humid miles during the Middle Tennessee summer, I was looking forward to the 40-degree race day temperatures. Until rain entered the forecast. But with anything, there are variables you can control and variables you can’t control. One of the variables I can control is my attitude. Despite stiff knees, lack of quality sleep, and rainy race day weather, I tried to stay positive.

Our hotel was across the street from the expo, so it was easy and quick for us to get our packets. Then we made a Meijer’s run for some race day food, and Abby decided to make spectathlete t-shirts for herself and my dad, which I don’t have pictures of, unfortunately. I made my flat runner trying to account for the weather conditions. If the rain stopped and the sun came out, I could ditch the arm warmers, and the visor would keep the rain (or sun) out of my face. The blue flower symbolizes “Content” from Fellow Flowers.

Sure enough, we woke up that morning to rain, not a heavy downpour but a steady drizzle. My mom’s flights had gotten messed up, and she didn’t arrive in Indy until after 9 pm. She was not up to running the full 26.2 and threatened to not even start, but she lined up in the corral anyway.

John and I before the start. Doesn’t this look like fun?

My race plan was to go with the 4:30 pacer and hang on as long as I could, re-evaluating how I felt along the way. When I got into the corral, the 4:30 pacer was nowhere to be found. I spotted the sign for the 5:00 and the 4:15 pacers and lined up somewhere in between, but I was disappointed and a little panicky. I talked myself down a little bit, knowing I was shooting for clocking each mile somewhere between 10:10 and 10:20.

I didn’t take off my throwaway shirt until two miles in. A woman started talking to me about Marathon Maniacs. She was attempting to qualify with 2 in 16 days and was scheduled for run/walk intervals. It took a while to warm up, but I was right where I wanted to be, maybe even a little faster. I tried to get myself to slow down and relax even though I felt good.

There was a slight hill at mile 3 that didn’t phase me too much, and we spent some time outside of the park before heading back in. Abby was cheering at mile 4, though that was the last time I’d see her until the finish. I was running with a woman wearing a “Birthday Girl” sash and her friend. They were doing the half, but we traded some encouragement. At mile 11, I had to make a bathroom stop, jumping a fence to use some non-race Portolets on a golf course. Then the big hill hit. People around me were freaking out, but I chugged up, one foot in front of the other, logging my slowest mile of the day.

The half-marathon split off at mile 12.5, and by then, I was ready to see them go. The pack thinned out considerably. Mentally, I told myself that the real work was still ahead of me. I came through the mats at 13.1 in 2:13:44, a little faster than on-target. Then, lo and behold, ahead of me was a man in a orange shirt with “Pacer” on the back. “Are you the 4:30 pacer?” I screamed at him, probably a little louder than necessary. “Yes.” “Sweet!” I latched on to him and wasn’t going to let go.

Our pace group was the pacer, me, and another woman named Michelle. We entered a ten-mile out-and-back stretch, and we talked about family, running, different races, etc. I was trying to trust the pacer as we clocked sub-10:00 miles consistently along that stretch. When the wind kicked up, our pacer told us to draft off of him. I was looking for John to be coming back the other way and got a little nervous when the 3:30 pace group went by with no John in sight. I saw him later than I expected to and knew he wasn’t having the race he had hoped, but he yelled, “See you at the finish line!” so I wasn’t too worried. We lost Michelle at an aid station, and the pacer told me to go ahead. Suddenly, there was the turn-around, just past mile 19. Thanks to Iain, our fabulous 4:30 pacer, I had gotten through the most mentally difficult stretch without a second thought.

When I passed the 20-mile marker, I did some quick math in my head. To break 4:30, all I had to do was keep at least an 11:00 pace, which felt completely possible. Every mile faster than that was that much more under 4:30. Physically, I felt great. Despite the rain, I didn’t feel any chafing or blisters though my quads were substantially fatigued. The out-and-back was fun because I got to see the other runners and cheer on my fellow Maniacs. The volunteers, other runners, and photographers told me I looked good, and this time, I actually believed them. I was passing a lot of people and tried to give them some encouragement to keep going.

From studying the course elevation chart, I knew the last mile was uphill to the finish. Cruel but necessary. I started to put the hammer down past the 24-mile marker, as we headed back through the park. By this time, we had run this stretch at least 3 other times, so it felt familiar, and I knew where I was in relationship to the finish line. The last mile WAS uphill. As hard as I was working, my pace kept dropping. Finally, we were out of the park for the final push to the finish. The rain had stopped, and the cloud cover lightened. Only then did I peel off the arm warmers.

I knew I was within striking distance of Jen’s PR from Chicago, as I hit the 26 mile marker. My parents were there yelling and cheering and I threw them my arm warmers and kicked it into my last and final gear. My mom said she told my dad, “She’s after Jen’s time.” Abby & John were near the finish chute cheering as well.

I started to tear up like I always do at the finish and hit my watch as I crossed over the mat. I didn’t even need to look at my time to know that I ran a hell of a race, that it didn’t matter if I’d beat Jen’s time or not because I knew I ran sub-4:30 by a few minutes. 4:26:59. Official time – 4:26:52. Nearly a 15-minute PR, a negative split, and a better race than I could’ve imagined. Mom, Dad, Abby, & John met me just outside the finish chute. I couldn’t really speak when my mom asked me my time; I just held out my watch.

My mom had ended up running the half. Weirdly, we were running nearly the same pace but never saw each other. John finished his first marathon in 3:51 after struggling with some cramps. His race report is here. Abby and my dad, then joined by my mom, were miserable, cold, and wet for the morning, as it turned out the course wasn’t very spectator-friendly. Once we traded brief race stories and I had stopped crying from joy and exhaustion, we ATE. The post-race party included hamburgers, brats, baked beans, coleslaw, and cookies. I never know what might sound good after running that distance. The thought of baked beans turned my stomach, but the hamburger, coleslaw, and cookie was delicious.

After all of that, I was ready to return home victorious and see Joe, having been gone for 10 days.

Next up: Adventures in Canada!

Rocket City Marathon

In the spirit of the new year, I have a lot of catching up to do on the blog, particularly if I want to get everything in shipshape before I leave for Kenya in less than a week (!!!). So, chronologically, let’s go back to the beginning of December. December 8th to be specific.

Having been talked into running the Southern Tennessee Plunge Marathon in early October as a “training run” by my mother and finishing Marine Corps Marathon in late October, I only needed one other marathon within 90 days of the first one to qualify as a Marathon Maniac. The only catch was that it needed to be on a Saturday (since I work Sunday mornings) and within easy driving distance. My mom, the enabler, proposed Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, Alabama. After Southern TN went so well, I eventually signed up, though after MCM, I barely ran for about 2 weeks due to recovery and vacation. Even so, my only goal for Rocket City was to finish and qualify for Marathon Maniacs. A particularly good 16 mile training run the Monday after Thanksgiving left me feeling confident.

The morning dawned on the warmer (55-ish degrees) and humid side for December, but at least it was cloudy, keeping the sun from heating us up too much. I hadn’t slept particularly well or eaten particularly well the day before, so I was nervous. Rocket City is on the smaller side (~1500 registered), and everyone looked skinny and fast milling around the lobby of the Holiday Inn. It didn’t help to catch snippets of chatter about prospective Boston qualifying times. I was merely hoping to finish around 5 hours.

 

My parents drove down to cheer me on, and I was surprised to see them around mile 5. I had just started to feel okay after my normal warm-up period. Seeing them gave me a big lift, and the next few miles seemed to fly by as I found some people to run and talk with. Around mile 10 and 11, I realized that the 4:40 pace group was just ahead of me at a water stop. That was much faster than I wanted to be going considering I didn’t want to totally blow up. My mom started running with me at mile 13, and we found ourselves alongside one of the 4:40 pacers. But after clocking a rather fast mile, I made myself slow down, take a short bathroom stop, and we lost them again.

It started to get uncomfortably warm with the breeze now at our backs. I found myself wishing that I was carrying my own water, but the miles kept ticking off. Once we hit 20, I realized I was within striking distance of a PR. So my goal changed from a) just finishing to b) PR and possibly c) sub-4:40. A lot of people were walking, and I took a few short walking breaks, mostly stretching out walking through aid stations. Mom was pushing me, and at one point, I told her that I hated her. Compared to how the people around me looked, I was doing pretty well. Once we hit one mile to the finish line, I took one last walk break and sped up on the downhill to the end. Official time: 4:41:29, a PR by over 2 minutes. They gave me my medal and a hat and a space blanket as I staggered around.

I would highly recommend Rocket City. For me, it was an ideal size – not too big and not too small. There was a lot of community support, from people gathering at playgrounds to neighbors standing out in their yards and cheering. The food at the end of the race was amazing – Moon Pies, ice cream sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly on freshly baked bread and bagels, soup (which would’ve been nice if it had been seasonable weather), and fruit. It’s not the most scenic course, mostly weaving through neighborhoods with one stretch along a bigger road. One of the reasons it’s popular in this area is it’s relatively flat elevation profile, though there is still some roll to the course. The medal, hat, and shirt were high quality, and the logistics (parking, bathrooms, packet pick-up) were easy due to the smaller size.

And now I’m Marathon Maniac #6302!

Oo-Rah: Marine Corps Marathon 2012

Since I’m currently stuck in Washington D.C. thanks to Frankensnurricane Sandy, and everything is closed, what better time than to write my race re-cap for the 37th Annual Marine Corps Marathon!

Saturday morning, Joe and I got up crazy early to make our 6:25 am flight to BWI. Everything went smoothly, and I chatted with some fellow Nashville runners at the baggage claim. After taking the SuperShuttle to our hotel and stashing our bags in our room, we met up with my friend Jimi for an early lunch of pizza at Matchbox Chinatown and then headed to the Expo.

The process of getting our bibs was very smooth, and the Marines working packet pick-up were very friendly. The expo itself was more overwhelming. There was a bit of a snafu because security wasn’t allowing any glass bottles inside the DC Armory, and Jimi had brought a whole bunch of beer in his bag from the brewery he works at. So Joe ended up staying outside of the expo to babysit the beer. After getting my shirt, I shopped a bit and ended up waiting in a really long line to pay. I wished I’d stayed at the expo longer, but the crowds wandering around aimlessly were driving me crazy. And there’s really only so much running stuff you can buy, right?

My grandparents moved to Arlington from Charlottesville two days before we arrived, so we ventured out there to visit them for dinner in their new assisted living facility. It was a pretty decent pre-race dinner – kind of bland and pretty much guaranteed to not mess up my digestive system. Then it was back to the hotel on a Metro full of fun Halloween costumes. Predictably, I slept horribly and woke up at 5 am to drink my coffee and fuel up. Every morning I get a quote from Gratefulness.org in my e-mail, and the day of the marathon, it was particularly apt.
“For all that has been, thanks; to all that will be, yes.” – Dag Hammerskjold

 

Earlier this week, I bought iron-on letters for my race shirt and put my name on the front and “Run Rev Run!” on the back. Best idea ever; all through the race people were cheering for me by name. After I was all ready to go, we hit the Metro, chatted with more runners, and hopped on the train to the Pentagon. If I thought the train was full when we got on, more and more runners kept squeezing on. Then we walked. And walked and walked to Runner’s Village. I met up with my friend Jen after waiting in the slowest moving Port-o-let line in the history of running, and we walked to the start. After hopping the fence to get into the start corral, the gun went off, and we stood around for 15 minutes before crossing the start line.

Jen and I both had a “reach” goal of sub-4:40 and were planning on a PR race. We started out conservatively and feeling good enough to keep reminding ourselves to pull back on the pace a bit. I first saw Joe at mile 10.5 where he took the picture on the right. Obviously, I was feeling pretty happy at that point. After over a week of worrying about the weather, we ended up only having a strong headwind at a few points and NO rain. Lots of signs read various iterations of “Sandy is right behind you!” though my favorite sign was, “Paul Ryan is already finished.”

We kept ticking off mile after mile and started to pick up the pace a bit. Joe saw us again along the National Mall, which was encouraging. I was starting to not feel so great anymore. When we made the turn to go over the bridge back into Virginia, I knew I would have to back off. Lots of people around us were walking, and we kept having to weave around them. Jen was looking strong, so when we got off the bridge, I told her to go ahead. I slowed down and took some walk breaks. Everything hurt, and I was mentally frustrated by the crowds of runners that had us weaving the whole race, adding an extra .43 on my Garmin by the finish line. After allowing myself a brief pity party, I said “yes” to the pain, the blisters, the aching muscles, the foggy head, and the guy dressed as a purple Teletubby in front of me and pressed on. At about 25.8 miles, I saw Joe, and he tried to motivate me. In my pain, I told him to shut the hell up much to the amusement of the runners around me.

Marine Corps Marathon finishes up a hill to the Iwo Jima monument. A hill. After running 26 miles. Fortunately, I run hills all the time, and this particular hill was surrounded by cheering spectators and Marines and had a giant finish line at the top. I surged past the people around me and kicked everything into the finish. 4:43:44, official time. Then I burst into tears. I waited in a short line to be presented my medal by the awesome female Marine above, and we saluted each other. After getting a jacket, food, and drink, I walked for what seemed like forever to meet up with Joe.

One of the truly great things about MCM was the social media support. Every 10K, my time and pace were tweeted, posted to my Facebook page, and e-mailed/texted to everyone who had signed up to follow me. So even though Joe hadn’t been right at the finish line, he knew I had finished and PR’d. And at the end, I received all the texts, tweets, and Facebook comments from friends who had cheered me on from all over.

All in all, I don’t know if I’ll do another enormous race like MCM, or if I do, I will have very different expectations. Running with 30,000 of your closest friends is inspiring but also frustrating. The course was constantly congested, even in the last few miles, and the aid stations were particularly bad. At one point, Jen and I lost each other for about a mile coming out of an aid station. As wonderful as a job as they do with the logistics, there is just no way to organize 30,000 people without a lot of waiting and walking around a large amount of space. At the end of the day, I walked away with a PR and the knowledge that I ran hard and left everything out on the course.

And because I’m more than a little crazy, I signed up for Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, AL, which will qualify me as a Marathon Maniac!

September/October Races

When I had lunch with my (former) CPE supervisor last week, he said, “You’ve been running a lot!” And I guess I have. I had three race weekends in a row starting September 22nd, so I’ll walk you through them briefly.

Women’s Half Marathon – Nashville

This is the third (and probably last) time I’ve run this race. I have some nostalgic feelings about it since it was my first ever half marathon (the first year) and my PR race (the second year). For myriad reasons, this year wasn’t quite as good. Even though they changed the course to allegedly make it less hilly, my plan was not to race. In fact, my plan was to make this into an 18-mile training run by running the 5 miles downtown to the start and then catching a ride home with my mom. File under: marathon training makes you do crazy things. I thought I would run the first 5 slow and easy and then shoot for marathon goal pace during the race.

First mile was slow due to crowds and several turns, but I settled into a ~10:00/mile pace, about a half-minute faster than I wanted to be going. But I felt strong and loose, so I decided to ride it until I inevitably crashed and burned. This year, the crowd support was significantly less than it was in previous years, and there weren’t as many bands on the course. It’s not something I would normally complain about, but for a pricey race, it’s nice to have those pick-me-ups. Fast-forward to the end, I never crashed. I felt strong the whole time, even at a faster-than-anticipated pace – complete with negative split and a fast last 5K. Official time – 2:12:35

Fort4Fitness Half Marathon – Fort Wayne, IN

How did I end up running a half marathon in Fort Wayne? Those two crazy kids on either side of me – Abby and John. The original plan was to run the half marathon together and stay at Abby’s parents’ house, but her parents up and moved to Bloomington. This was both Abby’s and John’s first half marathon, which was really exciting. They had trained diligently and hard throughout the summer and were rewarded with very successful races.

The race was extremely well-organized and based out of the minor league baseball stadium. Bathrooms, gear check, and everything else we needed were right there. Plus, we finished in the stadium and on the Jumbotron, which is always fun. We stayed in the adjacent Courtyard Marriott, which meant that we didn’t even have to park. Even though the shirts were kind of ugly, the medals were very nice, and it was a well-attended race without being super-crowded.

At the start, I persuaded John to jump several corrals based on how fast he was planning on running. He ended up sticking with the 8:00/mile pace group and finishing in 1:43:46 for his first half! Abby had tossed out a goal of 2:30, but I knew she was underestimating herself, so I figured I’d pace her with 2:20 in mind as the time to beat. We executed the race really well. The first four miles took us straight down this one street, and then we turned into a park. I wanted to keep her comfortable until mile 10 and then push the pace a bit. We were right on target at the 10 mile mark, but then we merged with the 10K event that had started an hour later, so we had to dodge a bunch of walkers. I ran ahead of Abby a few feet to keep her motivated and also to weave my way through the other participants. Finally, we made the final turn before we entered the stadium, and we took off. We finished well under 2:20. Official time: 2:17:35

Southern Tennessee Plunge Marathon – Winchester, TN

In a potentially disastrous move, my mom talked me into doing a practice marathon with her as our last long run before our goal races (Marine Corps for me; Seven Bridges for her). It’ll be fun, she said. It’ll be supported and a nice jaunt through the beautiful southern Tennessee countryside, she said. And, well, it was a very successful race for me, but it wasn’t really fun or beautiful. First off, we had hotel room problems. Like, they couldn’t find our reservation even though we had an e-mail and a confirmation number from the hotel. The next morning, we woke up to pouring down rain. Fortunately, it let up right before the start. Joe had signed up for the half with the plan to run the first 7.5 miles with us, but due to a miscommunication, we separated a little over a mile in.

The plan was to maintain a 11:00/mile pace and finish comfortably or as comfortably as one can finish a marathon. We did not account for the 8 miles along a highway into the north wind. Then my Garmin lost satellite reception at 10 miles. The second half of the course was a little more pleasant, but it continued to mist and drizzle off and on. The hills were not insignificant either. After my stomach issues at Flying Pig, I was apprehensive about my capability of executing a marathon well, but this went really well. At mile 18, about when the wheels fell off at Flying Pig, I still felt good and strong. When I hit mile 22 and realized I could basically walk the next 4 miles and still PR, that was huge encouragement. I PR’d by over 20 minutes with an official time of 4:45:15.

While maybe not the most brilliant training strategy, executing a race according to plan and not experiencing any fueling or stomach issues was very important for my confidence going into Marine Corps (October 28th!). I now know that I can run a marathon successfully, even in the face of less than ideal weather conditions, and finish with a smile on my face.