Race Report: Flying Pig Toyota 10K

Previous PR: 54:09 (Singleton 10K 2016)
Original Goal: recovery run
Revised Goal: fun run
Result: 47:53 (PR)

Original Goals:
Originally, my primary race for the weekend was the mile. Every other time I've raced a hard mile, my legs have been dead for at least a couple days after, and I've been incredibly susceptible to strains. Knowing that, I almost didn't register for any races beyond the mile for Flying Pig weekend. In the end, though, I couldn't stand the thought of not doing any of the actual Flying Pig events, and opted for the 10K instead of the 5K because 1) it was earlier than the 5K, and 2) the course went over a couple bridges crossing the Ohio River. I figured if my legs were destroyed, I could at least walk the course, and reminisce over the first four miles of my first marathon, since the courses were pretty similar.


Pre-Race:
After a mentally (and physically) rough past couple of days, I was surprised to wake up feeling good on race morning. Whatever illness I'd had seemed to be gone, and the sore "OMG-is-this-a-strain" spot in my right calf was nowhere to be found. While I'd run a decently fast mile the night before, I was pleased to find I was completely devoid of my usual post-mile feelings of what can only be described as "oof". 

To sum things up, I was feeling good. 

Jerry jokingly reminded me to "make it hurt" as he and baby boy headed out to get their spot on the course. I rolled my eyes, still certain I was going to be running easy, and told him I'd be between 56 and 60 min. At best, I figured I'd run a 54. Little did I know... :P 

I get to run today!

In the Pig Pens (that's what corrals are called at Flying Pig):
Shortly before the gun went off, I realized my watch was still in "quarter mile lap split" mode from last night's mile. At first, this distressed me, because it meant I wouldn't have mile splits. Shortly, though, I came to love the quarter mile splits. They were frequent enough to give me a good indication of what pace I was running without the annoying inaccuracy of the Garmin's actual "instant pace" feature.

I didn't have any goals for the race. I decided I'd just kind of run it for fun, and see what pace came naturally. Maybe I'd do a progression run? Maybe I'd try to do a first half easy, second half hard? I literally had zero thoughts of goals. I kind of wished I'd brought my phone along; then I could have turned it into a fun picture run, like Brandi had suggested when I was planning to have this be a recovery from the mile. I more than kind of wished, again, that I wasn't "alone" in the corral, and had someone to smile at or bounce things off of. If there's one thing this trip made me realize it's just how incredibly important my running community is to me, and how much running would suck if I weren't friends with other people who ran. I don't need people with me on race day, but I do need to have people to talk about it with before and after!


Mile 1: "Oh, heeeeeeeeeeey"
I went off the line still unsure what my race plan was. I just ran, and was SO excited to see another ATC member, who we'd ran into at yesterday's expo. I said "hey" to her, wished her well, and then heard the best thing ever: a "Go Angelina" within the first quarter mile of the course. I hadn't expected to see Jerry and baby boy until mile 4.5, but there they were! 

LOOK! I'M NOT LEANING BACK!!!
VICTORY.

My first split was a 2:00. It took me until the second one came up as 2:01 for me to realize that was an 8:00 pace. That was a 50:00 10K pace. This is one of those elusive times for me. Last year, a group of the 10KTuesday crew decided to go for sub-50 at Peachtree. An 8:00 pace for over six miles? No thanks. I knew I was capable of it, but had zero desire to put in the work for it. 

Recently, I'd started thinking about this year's Peachtree goals, and made the declaration to some of the crew that I was probably going to end up joining the "sub-50" group this year. Even knowing that I'm capable of it, I didn't actually believe it would happen at Peachtree. Weather is funky. It's hot. The course starts easy and gets hard. Plus, running with the group would probably mean they'd take it as even splits and I'd feel like I was working hard from the very beginning since I have a different race strategy preference.

Today, I was totally alone, and it was actually a good thing. It's been awhile since I've run a race where I wasn't trying to run "with" anyone. It was strange to go my own pace, without trying to stick with someone, pull anyone along, or hit a specific pace goal. It felt good, though. It felt free. 

As we ran over the first bridge across the Ohio River, I couldn't help but remember the last time I ran across that bridge. That was where I'd fallen off the back of my first pace group in my first marathon. That day, I couldn't even hold a 4:45 marathon (10:45/mi) pace. Today, I was crushing an 8:00. 


Miles 2 and 3: "Just Get Through Kentucky"
At some point in Kentucky, my mentality shifted from "just run whatever feels right" to "let's see how long you can keep this up". I wasn't going for 50, or a PR, but I was making a conscious decision to just hold my pace. It was also during this part where I grabbed my first cup of water from an aid station. 

Since my first Peachtree in 2013, I've run every race that I planned to drink during with a handheld. It was a weird thing to have to wait until the aid station to have a sip of something, but I'm certain that it changed my outlook on the event. There was something about grabbing a paper cup, bending it to form a better channel through which the water could flow, and deliberately pouring the water into my mouth, that made me feel different, like I was racing, and not just running a 10K where I could leisurely sip. I had business to do. 


Mile 4: "This Feels Good"
As I climbed up the second bridge, which took me back over the river to Ohio, I felt really proud. Three years ago, it was on this same bridge that I had fallen off the back of the 5:00 pace group. Now, I was passing people on the climb. I still wasn't thinking about what my ultimate finish time might be. It was all about right here and right now.

...but the here and now was starting to wear on me. I'm really good at short distances. I can "make it hurt" for a short, finite portion of time, where I can see the end. I'm NOT good at long distances. The idea of pacing myself, or forcing a long slow burn when I could opt for a hard and fast explosion is so unappealing. This was a challenge for me during the marathon last fall, and it's also why I've put off setting any pace goals for something longer than a 5K. Mentally, it's just hard for me. 

When I passed the m4 marker, I took a look at my watch and saw I wasn't just on pace, but ahead of what I needed for a 50:00. At the 4.25mi marker, I decided to see how far off I was from the elusive 50:00. With two miles to go, I should be around 34:00 if I was going to keep a consistent 8:00 until the finish, I was at 32. Holy stromboli. I wasn't just going to PR today; I was going to break 50. 


Mile 5: "It's Gonna Happen"
Around 4.5, I started wishing that I had studied the course profile a bit more. I remembered that the 10K's last two miles kinda sorta crossed the general vicinity of THE hill on the full/half course. Did it actually go up the hill? Had I saved enough for a wretched climb? I didn't know. 

As I turned the corner after a looooong straightaway, I reminded myself that I only had to get through eight more clicks of my watch lap timer- eight more laps around the track- and then I would be done. That was a good thing to think about, especially as I saw the hill that greeted me around the bend. 

Fortunately, the hill was accompanied by Shelly's familiar voice shouting my name. I was so excited to look up and spot Jerry, Shelly, and then hone in on my little potato, happily sitting in his stroller and clapping. I knew I was ahead of the time they were expecting me at, and that gave me a little more motivation to smile as I passed by them, waving to my son and knowing I was kicking some serious asphalt. 

II'M NOT LEANING BACK IN THIS PICTURE EITHER!

Mile 6: "Finish"
...and then it was just a matter of finishing. I had another mile left, and it was a constant struggle to gradually pick up the pace while saving enough for whatever unknown might greet me in that last 1600m. My race strategy is to use the last mile to gradually get faster. I try to "turn it another click" every quarter mile and then kick to the finish on my last 0.1-0.25. Not knowing exactly where I was made this harder to do. 

I remember being so grateful to see the 5K's "2mi" marker and know I had less than 1.1 to go. In the final stretch, just as I was kicking towards the finish swing, I was thrilled to see Jerry and baby boy had found a spot along the chute. I hadn't expected to see them again until after the line, at our designated meet-up spot, and it was an extra boost to know I was going to be able to go flying past them, with Jerry knowing I was about to break 50:00 too. 

This is a PR face.
Also, STILL not leaning back
(not really leaning forward, but, hey, not leaning back is good)

Post-Race:

I couldn't believe I'd done it when I crossed the line. I didn't know what my time was, but I knew I had obliterated 50:00. 

Dat kick, tho.

While it was "only a 10K", there was so much about this race that reminded me of my first Finish Swine. Only this time wasn't just about finishing; it was about conquering. I reveled in the entire Finish Swine experiencing, thanking all the volunteer gRunts, appreciating the incredible array of post-race goodies (this race is the BEST for that stuff), and taking up the photographers on their requests for pics with my medal. I would have time to share the glory with my family and friends soon, and I enjoyed the few minutes I had with just me and the knowledge that I'd done something I didn't think I would do. 

I broke 5-0! :D 

Reflections

While I've had some incredible PRs that I've trained for and gone into a race aspiring to, my favorites are still the ones like this, that happen without thinking about them. I signed up for this weekend expecting to train hard and run a 6:00 mile on Friday night, with a 10K fun walk/run the day after. I ended up coming here sick, fresh off an injury, with a mediocre performance in the mile and a 10K beyond my wildest expectations. 

There were times I wanted to cut off during the race, but I stopped myself with the idea that, if I didn't do it here, in these amazing conditions, then I'd have to really try at Peachtree. It might be hot. It might be hard. Or, worse yet, I might not be able to run this well (or at all) for any number of reasons. I had the opportunity, and I had to take it. At the very least, I had to know I'd done all I could. 

Nailed it. :) 

somebody liked Mommy's medal <3