Previous PR: 1:47:02 ((Thanksgiving 2018)
90% Goal: sub-2
50% Goal: whatever an 8:50 pace was
10% Goal: whatever an 8:40 pace was
Result: 1:53:37
Training: I started a phenomenal and intense 18 weeks of Marathon Training for my training partner's September goal race in May. I was definitely in the best shape of my running life for awhile. Until the last week of August, I pretty much stuck to her workouts, with a few hiccups for illness. In early September, I had another bout of illness, became suddenly and profoundly deaf in one ear, ran a PR marathon as a coping method the following weekend, and then took a few weeks off from workouts.
I made a half-baked attempt to train for this race over the last three weeks, but only went over 30mpw once, so did I really train?
Pre-Race:
One of the great things about being an athlete is that I feel like I've got a really good feel for what's happening with my body at all times. I've known for awhile that this race wasn't going to be extraordinary. My workouts just weren't happened the way they ought to for me to have any shot at a PR. So, until yesterday, I was still toying with the idea of fun-running this with my littlest in the stroller.
Yesterday morning, though, I had an intense bout of fatigue that had me basically falling asleep on the couch from 7-9am, While I seemed to recover a bit throughout the day (after another midday nap), I took that as a sign that my body did not want to push a stroller full of 30+ lb kiddo for two hours. With that decision made, I ate a few Snickers peanut butter bars that my husband had bought for next weekend's trick-or-treaters, took my older kid to a Halloween party, and ate some nachos in bed, because that's just what kind of mood I was in.
I had a terrible time getting to sleep, woke up before my alarm, went back to sleep, and just generally wasn't feeling it when I woke up. I remember thinking to myself this might be the day that I didn't break 2 in a half marathon. Ugh. That was a rough pill to swallow. Sub-2 used to be something I thought of as a given.
I met up with my training partner, did a mile warm-up, and then headed over to the corrals. She suggested we line up with the 1:50 group, and just see what happened. I laughed and told her to go ahead... but then found myself standing next to the 1:50 pacers as the gun went off anyways...
Race:
The race starts with a downhill, immediately followed by a steep climb. I enjoyed taking off on the downhill, passing a few women who, despite being lined up with the 1:50 pace team, began the race at a WALK. I stuck with the pace group for the first mile, thinking that maaaaybe I'd just hang for a bit. Our first mile was an 8:08. I knew better than to hang on to that. I did not feel like having a "crash and burn" kind of race.
I let my training partner go up ahead, and felt a little guilty when she'd look over her shoulder to "check on me" for the next few miles. I was pleasantly pleased to see I was actually still running mid-8s... even though it was definite work. I'd made the decision pre-race that I didn't want to care about my time too much, but did want to have a race where I felt like I pushed the whole way-- not a "make it hurt" race, but a tempo-run kind of race.
My husband and kiddos were waiting around mile 4 for me. It was great to see them, strip off my sleeves and earband, and have a little company for a bit. I got to see them again closer to mile 6 for a bit, too, and then it was just me and the greenway, and a few other runners up ahead.
I've decided that the greenway is a miserable place to race. The next five miles were mentally really tough. I was grateful for the chalk messages, because they were the only thing that helped differentiate one 400m from the next. I spent the bulk of the time trying to decide how much I actually cared about this race, and whether it was worth making myself miserable for the next seven miles. I counted down miles. I did lots of mental math, always realizing that I could keep about a ten minute pace for the rest of the race and still be within striking distance of the 1:55, which was just enough to keep me kind of going. After all, once I got off the greenway, I'd have to climb the worst hill of the course at the YMCA.
I kept hoping that once I hit mile 11, and only had two miles to go, I'd find my kick and be able to float up the hill, super strong.
Nope. That hill hit me like a ton of bricks. If there hadn't been spectators, I totally would have walked. It was awful.
We had a slight downhill after that beast, and then another hill leading into the finish. I was able to take that one a bit stronger, and finally kick down the chute, but, man, I was just so glad to be DONE.
Splits:
8:08
8:20
8:19
8:15
Then I found my husband and kids, and fell back from the pack.
8:27
8:25
Entering the greenway, and monotony
8:40
8:51
8:42
8:46
8:49
9:15 (big hill climbing out of the greenway)
Final push
8:20
Reflections:
I think I summed it up best talking to a few of my teammates:
"I'm disappointed that I wasn't in the mental or physical shape to do better today, That said, I achieved my realistic-for-today goal and am proud of myself for not just giving up and crapping out on the whole race."
