Race Report: Thanksgiving Half

Previous PR: 1:56:02 (Publix 2016)

90% Goal: PR

Other Goals: Eh, I didn't really make a "goals" list pre-race. I had thoughts of a sub-1:50, though. 
Result: 1:47:02 (!!!)

Training: I followed the ATC Level 3 training plan for this cycle, but made a few modifications. After the disappointment at Sizzler, I knew I needed more tempo mileage in my life, and made every Tuesday a longer workout, either progression runs or tempo mileage, normally ending up a little slower than 5K pace. These runs weren't fun, but I usually had a teammate come out with me, and his presence truly made all the difference. 

Apart from a week of strep throat at the beginning of the season and a single unscheduled day off a couple weeks ago after a calf issue, I hit all my workouts. I had two easy runs each week (one was usually with the stroller), one long distance (done faster than I normally do these, but still conversational, since I was volunteering as a Run Leader), one strength/yoga day, one rest day, and one speedwork day (which varied between longer intervals and "choose your own adventure" workouts due to travel/weather). 

I also had a bunch of races spattered into the last half of the duration: Cardiac Challenge at the 10 Miler, Alpharetta Women's 5K, and the ALR 5K. I didn't really taper for any of these, and, instead, just used them as a supplement to my training. All of these went according to (or better than) plan, and boosted my confidence going into the half. 

#CTSO

Pre-Race:

My nonchalant attitude towards my last few races paid off so well that I used the same approach for this one. The only thought I really gave to my pace or goals before the race involved picking up a 1:50 pace bib at packet pick-up, though I wasn't sure I'd be wearing it. I didn't even know what pace a 1:50 was. I just knew that most of my teammates had run in the mid-to-high 1:40s, and figured I was probably somewhere in that range these days.

My biggest concern pre-race was actually what I would be wearing. It was supposed to be mid-30s at the start, but almost 50 when we finished. Ugggh. I agonized over this decision for at least an hour on Wednesday night, and finally made the call Thursday morning to go with things that could easily be adjusted:

• knee-high compression socks and shorts with side pockets
• earband and gloves
• a long-sleeve quarterzip to literally throwaway on-course
• and a throwaway jacket to shed sometime in the first few miles

I opted against wearing the 1:50 pace team back bib. There was a part of me that was scared of running the race with a goal displayed so publicly. What if I fell off the pace wagon? What if I was so far behind that EVERYONE would know I failed at my goal? Why does it matter? I don't know, but it just did. I also didn't want any pressure for this race, and declaring a goal at all was pressure, much less having it taped to my back. 

NOPE.

A few days before the race, my husband had asked if he could run with me. Despite the fact that we got into running more or less together, and that it's a huge part of both our lives, we don't run together. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of him running with me for a goal race (he's an excellent pacer, but I don't like how being a "pace-ee" changes my perception of our relationship), but reluctantly agreed that he could start with me (spoiler alert: that ended up being a really good decision). 

hanging with the Olympic rings

I realized as we walked into the stadium, that I had no idea when I was going to meet up with my teammates for pre-race chatter or any sort of warm-up. I hadn't actually considered doing a warm-up at all, in fact. Jerry and I made our way to the In-Training tent, where I saw my coach and a few of my participants from this season, but it was strange to not spend time pre-race with any of my teammates. 

I did a quick warm-up jog to the bathrooms, felt good with that, and headed into the corrals while Jerry did his own actual warm-up. It was weird going into a corral at a "hometown race" alone. It was even weirder to look around and not know anyone. I kept waiting to see some familiar faces, and was thrilled when my training partner finally came into sight. We eventually reunited with some of the 10KT teammates, and my husband, before making our way towards the front of Corral B, and the 1:50 pace sign. 

Race:

Even as the gun went off, I had zero plans for pace. All I knew was that I didn't want to feel any pressure to keep any specific pace. I'd seen the pace team flag, though, and knew a 1:50 half required an 8:23/mi pace. That seemed fast. I didn't like the idea of having to start off so "fast". I liked the idea of starting off at whatever pace I wanted, and then gradually picking it up.

There were a few problems with that strategy, though: 

1) Starting off at 9:00 would mean I'd have to run a sub 8 pace later in the race

2) The back half of the course has all the hills

Start line madness (I'm in the red, below and to the right of the tall guy in orange)

As we took off, I found myself frustrated with how many people were going too slowly ahead of me. I hadn't wanted to start at the front of B with the 1:50 pace team because I didn't think I'd actually be going an 8:23 off the line, but, evidently, other runners weren't as considerate. I spent the first mile flitting from one side of the road to the other, sliding between slower participants, and trying not to lose sight of either my husband or training partner, B, who'd decided to start off with me. 

By mile 2, I'd passed the 1:50 pace group, which had NOT been my plan. He didn't say it at the time, but my husband later confessed to me that he was sure I was going to crash and burn by going out too hot those first few miles. I was burning alright, but only in the temperature department. I think I shed all of my layers before the 5K mark, and was desperately wishing for my singlet before mile 4.

I felt good as we crossed the 5K mark, and commented to my partners how quickly it seemed to have gone by. Jerry was, more or less, letting me just run with B, and making himself available and around, but not "part of the group", which I appreciated. I was able to feel like this was just a training run with B instead of a race, which helped my mental game a lot. 

We didn't talk much on the run, which I appreciated. I knew that talking was not something I could do and hit the pace I wanted. As we came up the first major hill, 14th Street around mile 6, I do remember commenting to B how much stronger I felt than in years past. "This hill ate my soul the first time we ran this together," I said, remembering how demoralized I'd been when she and I were on the same hill four years ago, trying to break 2:00. Today, it felt empowering-- truly, like a "mound of opportunity" to be conquered. 

As we headed into Piedmont Park, I took advantage of Jerry and his Sherpa abilities, asking him to refill my handheld for me. When he and B stopped for water, I kept going, mentally evaluating how far we'd gone, what time I needed to hit at the half, and how that would compare to my watch, since I was clicking up to the next mile earlier than the official markers. I needed to have run half the course in 55min if I wanted even splits. We crossed at 53:31. We had a 90s buffer. 

I remembered how I'd felt at Chicago, when I realized at the halfway point that I was going to have to pick up the pace if I wanted to hit my stretch goal of PRing by an hour. Being ten seconds off felt insurmountable. This time, I worried if being 90s ahead of pace at the halfway point was enough. I knew what was coming: Juniper.

After you exit the park, you hike up 10th Street and make a left on Juniper. Juniper climbs and then climbs again before turning into Courtland. B was coaching me by this point, reminding me to "engage your core" and "use your arms to pull yourself up this hill." When I wasn't using my handheld arm, she called me out on it, "LEFT ARM TOO."

I didn't really feel like swinging a couple pounds of water around, so I asked for Jerry's help at this point, and he dutifully carried my full water bottle for the rest of the course, passing it back when I wanted to drink, and quickly taking it back after each sip. SUCH a huge help.

Courtland climbs up more, until you dive down a short hill, go below an underpass, and then have a steep, soul-crushing climb u p John Wesley Dobbs. My teammate had mentioned this bit on Wednesday, but, despite running this race almost every year we've lived here, I'd forgotten about it.... until it was in my face and I couldn't forget about it. 

Until that point, I felt like I'd been really strong. I'd had a good mental outlook and approached every hill as an opportunity to dig deep, show my strength, and rewards a solid climb with a few minutes of relaxed effort on the flat or downshill. At Dobbs, I was breaking. I thought about walking, but didn't. I remembered how I'd felt at Sizzler. Plus, what if I finished this race at 1:50:10, knowing I would have had the elusive 1:4X:XX if I'd just kept running, even if I'd slowed a bit. So, instead of walking, I allowed myself to slow down a little when I got to the first flat-ish part. 

I heard my training partner coaching my husband on what to tell me, and knew she was going to be backing off the pace, leaving him to carry me into the finish alone.

"How much longer?" I asked my husband.

He didn't answer.

"I need you to tell me how. much. freaking. longer. these. hills. will. last."

He made a shrugging motion. It was entirely unhelpful.

"TELL. ME."

"They'll end at the finish," he said matter-of-factly (and totally unhelpfully).

Irritated, I tried to do something that would help me out: mental math. If I could figure out how my pace was shaking out and what I'd need to run for whatever the nearest round number finishing pace was. I knew I was still ahead of what I needed (since I hadn't seen the 1:50 pacer), but wasn't sure how much ahead, and how long that could last if the hills continued (or got worse). 

As we hit 10, I realized I needed to run my last 5K in under 30 minutes. That was a huge relief. I needed to run 3.1 miles in just over 27min. That was just slower than 9min pace. I could do that. I'd been clocking near 8-flats the entire run. I asked my husband to verify my mental math, and then made him repeat the "you can run almost a 9min/mi in and still hit 1:50" a few times. 





And then, by mile 11, I'd banked enough that I could almost run 10s in and still make my goal. That was exactly what I needed to know: that I could back off if I wanted. Knowing that I could put all the power in my hands, and knowing that I could slow down made me want to push on. If I'd had to pick up the pace at that point, I think I would have been tempted to throw in the towel, even if it had only been a "you need to keep 8:23s the whole way in to nail it".

I wanted to run myself in, without thinking about a pace, where anyone else was, or trying to keep up with anyone. I like being able to zone out/zone in, and just run for myself as of late, but I couldn't do that with my husband at my side... so I asked him to back off. I wanted him to stay with me, if I needed him, but not be seen. He reluctantly backed off, and did a pretty good job making his shadow stay in mine for the last bit. I knew he was there, but his presence wasn't in my face, and I could ignore it and just run my race, my pace.

As we crested the LAST hill of the course, passing under the Olympic rings, I heard one of my teammates, who'd run the 5K earlier that day, cheering for us from our tailgating spot. That was such a huge help. I remember smiling and pushing on, knowing I was only about half a mile away from the finish line, and crushing my goal for the day. 

I think I picked up my pace a little bit going into the chute, but not too much. Instead, I motioned my husband to come up and match my stride, and told him I wanted to hold his hand across the finish line. He's constantly supporting me through all of life's trials and tribulations (and, man, has this year been FULL of them), and it was really cool to get to celebrate some success together for a change. 

Reflections:

I've always struggled "racing" longer distances. Over the past few years, I've gotten comfortable with "making it hurt" for a mile, or even a 5K, but the idea of "making it uncomfortable" for over an hour is just unappealing. I could've gone faster today, but I have zero regrets about my finish time (though it would have been nice to have come in three seconds faster). and I'm okay with that. I proved to myself I have the mental fortitude to make it uncomfortable for over ninety minutes, on some serious hills, that's worth more to me than any time on a clock. 

...but I'm also thrilled to have hit another solid PR this year, and one that's been a long time coming. :)  In a way, this has been a kind of redemption for the fruitless mile training efforts of last fall (which ended with a plantar fascia tear before I could capitalize on my excellent training), and it feels good. 

<3 these two

Up Next:

I've got a few weeks "off", where I'll just be trying to maintain 30-40mpw, and then we'll ramp up for Publix Atlanta Marathon training. Weeeeeeeeee!