Previous PR: 1:30:40 (2014)
Goals: Top 100 Mug
No goals for 10 Miler itself. Instead, I focused my efforts on the Cardiac Challenge, a "race within a race" where the top 50 men and top 50 women down Peachtree's infamous "Cardiac Hill" get a special mug.
I actually didn't even have any time goals for the Cardiac mile... which I weird.
Result: 1:23:56 (10 Miler), 6:21 (Cardiac-- 10th place overall female, and a mug)
Training:
I literally did zero training specific to this race. I made zero modifications to the content of the half marathon training program, but did opt to shift my normal speedwork day from Thursday to Tuesday this week.
Pre-Race:
It. Was. COLD. Temperatures lately have been in the 50s or 60s. Yesterday, was in the 60s. Today, it was 42 degrees, 10mph winds, and a "feels like" of 36 to 38. We had a whole crew of us chasing the Cardiac dream this year, and the night before was full of messages between us all regarding what we were planning to wear.
It felt good to be a part of a team this morning, with all of us working towards the same goal, starting together, and agreeing to wait until the last of us crossed the finish of the hill challenge before continuing. We had a huge pace spread (over 90s) in our mile goals, but that didn't matter in the warm-up. It felt so uplifting and empowering to be striding behind, next to, and in front of my teammates for those first few miles, shivering in the wind, and encouraging each other on.
I'd thought I wasn't going to want to (or even be able) to run the 8:30s off the line that the experienced part of the crew had planned on. But that turned out not to be the case. I let the team's strength pull me along and clocked sub-9s for those first few miles.
And then we hit the hill. It came sooner than I'd thought. I could see the orange markers for the start and readied myself, knowing the first 200-300m was going to be uphill.
Cardiac Mile:
The first uphill was harder than I wanted it to be. I spent those 300m focusing on digging down and drawing on all my frustrations and failures this year, imagining stomping on all of them with each step up the hill. I focused on my breathing and tried not to look at my watch too much to see how far we were. I think I had around a 1:40 quarter spilt, and was a bit disappointed by that, until I reminded myself that had been the uphill part.
Time to fly. I'd asked our coach for her advice on running downhill last week. "Imagine unhinging your hips and just letting your legs turnover," she'd told me. I did that once in training last week and it felt good. Today, it felt even better. I was able to relax enough to get good turnover and just let it go.
I wished I'd run the course before today, just to have an idea of what the elevation was like. I knew from elevation charts there was an uphill, downhill, level-to-up, and then a second downhill, but had no idea how those pieces fit with the distance.
I finished with a 6:19 split on my watch (6:21 officially). Not what I know I'm capable of, but a pretty good run for fueling with Old Fashioneds and half a Hawaiian pizza the night before. I felt pretty certain I'd done enough to get a mug and, if not, I was at least pleased with how I'd done.
Rest of the Race:
I'd thought we were all going to be taking it easy for the last seven miles of the course. Well, turns out "easy" is a relative term. We all reunited at the base of the hill, and then kept running. WHAT. This is not what I signed up for.
Yet, somehow, I let myself be pulled along. It was kind of nice to see the next mile marker and have one of my super strong teammates be the one to voice the "SERIOUSLY? ONLY MILE 4!?!?" thought that was in my head.
We stuck together as more-or-less of a pod for the next mile, and then gradually broke off to whatever our own "easy pace" was for the day. Eventually, I found myself with in a pack of three, and then just two, with two othe
r teammates a little head of us, but still in sight.
By mile 7, we'd caught the next-fastest teammate and joined with him for the climb out of Piedmont, and the dreaded stretch of Juniper (55:02 through 1:08ish in the screenshot above). This is brutal any day of the week, but, today, it felt like this strange bit of exactly what I needed.
On the next downhill, I picked up enough speed to catch, and then pass, my teammates, and something inside me clicked into a different gear. I started thinking about all the struggles I've had this year, how there's just been one thing after another that has kicked me down just as I might be getting back up, how I've worked so hard to put in all the right effort and plan all the right actions, and gotten nothing but one failure after another.
And then I was crying, choking on my breath as I clocked a mile near 5K PR pace.
You hear a lot about running being therapeutic, about "running it out". Every stride forward felt like I was running away from this terrible dark cloud that's been hanging over my life this entire year. Every step I took was a powerful stomp down on a demon reaching up to pull me down. I tried to channel all of the hurt, anger, and fear I've felt over the past months and run away from all of them.
I ran with abandon. For the first time in my life, I ran without consideration for burning out, for the next hill ahead, or the miles left until the finish line.
I had teammates around me. One a good bit in front, who'd motioned her hand when she had passed me in a "come on, come with me gesture". One just in front of me, who, just like always, had positioned himself (by design or coincidence) at just the right distance to give me enough space to feel alone while not being along. These people inspired me just by being there. Rather than the "invisible strings" pulling me along that I usually feel in situations like this, this time I just felt warm energy from each of them: they were little bright spots in a field of hundred of other runners; they were little lights in a world of darkness.
I crossed the line at a sub-7 pace, found my husband, and collapsed into him, my whole body wracked by sobs. I was completely spent.
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| Cardiac is the big down hill between 17:11 and 25:05 |
I finished with a 6:19 split on my watch (6:21 officially). Not what I know I'm capable of, but a pretty good run for fueling with Old Fashioneds and half a Hawaiian pizza the night before. I felt pretty certain I'd done enough to get a mug and, if not, I was at least pleased with how I'd done.
Rest of the Race:
I'd thought we were all going to be taking it easy for the last seven miles of the course. Well, turns out "easy" is a relative term. We all reunited at the base of the hill, and then kept running. WHAT. This is not what I signed up for.
Yet, somehow, I let myself be pulled along. It was kind of nice to see the next mile marker and have one of my super strong teammates be the one to voice the "SERIOUSLY? ONLY MILE 4!?!?" thought that was in my head.
We stuck together as more-or-less of a pod for the next mile, and then gradually broke off to whatever our own "easy pace" was for the day. Eventually, I found myself with in a pack of three, and then just two, with two othe
r teammates a little head of us, but still in sight.
By mile 7, we'd caught the next-fastest teammate and joined with him for the climb out of Piedmont, and the dreaded stretch of Juniper (55:02 through 1:08ish in the screenshot above). This is brutal any day of the week, but, today, it felt like this strange bit of exactly what I needed.
 |
| I promise, I was actually running faster than it looks... |
On the next downhill, I picked up enough speed to catch, and then pass, my teammates, and something inside me clicked into a different gear. I started thinking about all the struggles I've had this year, how there's just been one thing after another that has kicked me down just as I might be getting back up, how I've worked so hard to put in all the right effort and plan all the right actions, and gotten nothing but one failure after another.
And then I was crying, choking on my breath as I clocked a mile near 5K PR pace.
You hear a lot about running being therapeutic, about "running it out". Every stride forward felt like I was running away from this terrible dark cloud that's been hanging over my life this entire year. Every step I took was a powerful stomp down on a demon reaching up to pull me down. I tried to channel all of the hurt, anger, and fear I've felt over the past months and run away from all of them.
I ran with abandon. For the first time in my life, I ran without consideration for burning out, for the next hill ahead, or the miles left until the finish line.
I had teammates around me. One a good bit in front, who'd motioned her hand when she had passed me in a "come on, come with me gesture". One just in front of me, who, just like always, had positioned himself (by design or coincidence) at just the right distance to give me enough space to feel alone while not being along. These people inspired me just by being there. Rather than the "invisible strings" pulling me along that I usually feel in situations like this, this time I just felt warm energy from each of them: they were little bright spots in a field of hundred of other runners; they were little lights in a world of darkness.
I crossed the line at a sub-7 pace, found my husband, and collapsed into him, my whole body wracked by sobs. I was completely spent.
Post-Race:
We went over as a team to see the results of the Cardiac Challenge. My name was on the list, not just one of the top 50 women, but the top ten. When they handed me my victory mug, I cried again. That mug symbolized the first victory I've had in my life since February.
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| such an honor to be part of this incredible "girl gang" |
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Jerry's earned five mugs over the past few years for various ATC races
Today, I made my first contribution to our family collection
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| #team |
Reflections:
One of my teammates told me she hoped this mug meant my luck and my life are finally going to turn around. Maybe it does.
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"Maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay
‘Cause when you don’t feel strong enough to stand
You can reach, reach out your hand
And oh, someone will coming running"
