Or, Decker Challenge Half Marathon race report
The plan for the day: Run 5+ miles (easy pace) from my house to the race site, run the first 5 miles of the race at easy pace, then practice MGP (marathon goal pace) for the final 8.1 miles. I had no idea what to expect for that last 8, and lots of questions and doubts. How hard would it be? This is a hilly course, can I sustain MGP on that kind of course after a 10 mile warmup? Had I hydrated enough the day prior? If I hadn't mentioned it previously, training has entered the realm of "I've never run that far before," and I just don't know how my body will respond to what I'm asking of it. Still, I like having a plan, and generally trust that my coach isn't going to ask more of me than I can deliver, even though what she asks may be tough. Also, the last time we had an MGP practice run, I'd gone about 20-30 seconds faster/mile than MGP, which may sound good, but isn't gonna help me meet my race goal. So this was a good opportunity to practice pace discipline and going out easy from the start.
What Went Down
Christina (one of my long run training buddies) met me at my house for the run to the race, and we headed out around 6:35. We chit chatted, I almost let us take a wrong turn, and we ended up at the race 5.7 miles and about an hour later. Plenty of time to shed extra layers, visit the bathrooms, and find Devon (my other long run buddy), our very important ride home. It was a chilly morning, but fortunately not the near-freezing temperatures predicted earlier in the week. There was a pretty stiff north wind for the first four and last two miles, but other than that, probably the best conditions this race has seen in awhile. I was grateful. Christina & I stayed inside until about three minutes to start, delaying the return to the wind and cold as long as possible.
Mile Splits and Commentary
Mile Time Notes
- 9:33 Feels pretty good, but I'm concerned that it's a little fast considering the work that lies ahead. We back off a bit.
- 10:32 Not sure I want to back off quite so much. I'm having a mental tug of war between miles two and three, wanting to go a little faster so MGP won't seem like such a big transition when we get to mile 5. Took water at the aid station.
- 8:34 Oooh, didn't mean to go that fast. After mile 3 I remember that I'm supposed to run easy pace when I'm not running MGP, so I back off again. Looking at the splits now, I wonder if the mile markers were not placed accurately for 3 and 4 because my effort level seemed pretty consistent over those miles.
- 11:30 See above. Really committed to sticking to conversational pace by now, mostly to delay the MGP portion as long as possible. Not chatting much except to mention that. We'd reviewed possible post-race breakfast options during miles 2-3. Ate a gel prior to the aid station and took water.
- 9:47 Last easy mile. The plan was to make it last, but it went by quicker than intended. Vishal (training group buddy) passed me during mile 5.
- 8:44 Ironically, MGP pace starts where the hills do. Caught up to Vishal on the big hill and we chatted a bit. Told him my MGP plan and passed him briefly. Took more water at the aid station.
- 8:53 A little slow. The fear factor set in (fear that I wouldn't meet my goal) so I picked up the pace a little. About this time I'm thinking more core work would really be helpful because my hips are a little fatigued. I'm paying more attention to what's going on in my body than the terrain, but it's pretty countryside we're running through. The hills seem easier when I remember to lean into them.
- 8:34 A little fast, but made up what I lost in the last mile. At this point, I've got a mental picture for the rest of the race. The last 10K will probably feel like I'm racing 10K pace, and the last 5K will probably feel like I'm racing a 5K, even though I'm maintaining the slower MGP throughout. There's my frame of reference. I take a caffeinated gel and water at the aid station. Vishal is running with us again and we chat a little about the "run from hell."
- 8:58 A little off pace. I don't remember much about this portion of the race.
- 9:02 A little further off pace. I'll blame it on the water stop; just not that skilled at drinking on the run. Oh wait, there was no water stop here. 5K left to go, and I'm feeling a little depleted. Consider taking another gel, but decide not to.
- 8:40 Walked through the water stop here. Vishal waited for me up ahead. Christina's fallen back. I catch back up to Vishal and get back into rhythm.
- 8:45 More hills and wind and I've still got 1.1 miles to go. Vishal encourages me to empty the tank, but I protest, "I'm supposed to maintain MGP." We pass a spectator who shouts "if you can talk you're not working hard enough." I'm executing the plan and don't care what he thinks.
- 7:54 + :40 for the last .1 OK, I'll admit I have a hard time not "racing" a race, and I did ramp up the effort in the last mile, mostly out of concern for the stiff wind, incline, and turns going into the finish. But I'll also say that while the numbers don't lie, I didn't feel like I'd run a sub-8 final mile, I felt slower. I didn't go all out until I made the last turn into the finish. Devon watched me finish and said I looked like death. Which means I've got yet another set of unflattering race photos to look forward to. Gotta work on making it look easier than it is.
I ended up with a 10 minute PR, though really this was my first pure road race at this distance (other half marathons were the run leg of a triathlon and a trail race, apples to oranges). Best part about today was successfully sticking to plan. To answer the questions from the first paragraph: Tough; yes; not really.
Big thanks to Christina for the company and early pacing, Vishal for the late pacing and final push, and Devon for the ride home.
Still wonder how I'm gonna maintain MGP over a longer distance.
It had to happen eventually. Just not into posting today. Was feeling over last week's cold this morning, but by noon was feeling relapse symptoms. Have a half marathon race in the morning, with a 5+ mile "warm up" run to the race site so I get at least 18 in for the day. Had all kinds of plans for the day, but chucked most of them to make priority for napping and tinkering around the house. Ended up being pretty productive. Rearranged my bedroom, caught up on laundry, made some seriously hot green chile stew. Now folks are over at the house for tree trimming and hanging out. I'm off to bed as soon as I get this done. I have some very effective earplugs. Probably the best part about today was napping with the baby dawg. The rearrangement was primarily to allow Gracie access to the bed, and she's able to join me for naps again, which - awesome.
I built a loft bed for myself a couple of years ago, channeling my inner Vera. I haven't found any evidence of it on the Web, but I recall she had a bunk bed or loft bed at her place. I had always wanted one, had always been jealous of my brothers' bunk bed, so built my own from reclaimed lumber from a 50s house I helped deconstruct (same house my toilet seat came from). If I want Gracie to have access to the bed, I have to position her crate so she can use it as a step. For quite awhile that wasn't the case. so it was nice to have her back on the bed with me today. Speaking of, off to bed. That is my exciting life.
What's the point of having answers to the questions my coach posed? Because when I get to the point in the marathon where the miles start with 2, I will likely need something to draw on besides the physical training. I know how quickly and easily negative self-talk can surface, and how compelling it can be. Having a clear sense of purpose and personal meaning attached to the effort I'm expending is one of the best ways I can prepare for the inevitable self-attack. In the middle and late stages of a marathon, it's just not practical to phone a friend, as useful as that can be at other times. I need quick access to the part of me that can shout "f*-off!" to the negativity. I'm too busy running a race to give airtime to internal, self-generated discouragement.
Another thing to consider is the possibility that I'll want to quit, or slow down. Honestly, no one but me really cares about my finish time. Like thousands of others, I have no chance of "winning" or even placing in my age group, so what does it matter if I back off a little? Isn't it enough just to finish? For some people, perhaps. For me, it's about doing the best I'm capable of, and learning what that looks like for a marathon distance. To the consternation of many (several?) people, this kind of drive and determination is primarily focused on my athletic endeavors and does not spill over into other parts of my life where it could be quite useful. There are aspects of my life where I am quite lazy and undisciplined. I just write about the good stuff.
At last night's run workout, our coach emphasized that we're getting to the part of training where things get tough. Time is tight because of extra holiday commitments, training miles and expectations are longer. Days are colder and shorter. Racing a marathon is half legs and half mental (I'd say half heart). So she posed two questions.
- Why are you doing this? Why are you choosing to spend $$$ on training, shoes, cold weather gear, gels, 20lb. bags of ice, entry fees. Why are you choosing to get up at 6 or earlier 5 days a week to run, spending three plus hours on Saturdays running long, going to bed early on Fridays, skipping that extra glass of wine or gluten free beer, or not having any at all?
- Will it still matter if you don't achieve your goal? What if you get sick or injured the week before the race, and can't even make it to the start line? What if something happens and you can't finish the race, or don't meet your time goal?
If I didn't know the answers before, hiking the Appalachian Trail taught me my answers for questions like this. Because I asked them of myself while I was on the trail.
Point One: I love running. Most of my family probably thinks I'm crazy; they'd only run if they were being chased. What do I love about it? I feel at home in my body after and often while running; it often feels more natural to me than walking; it clears my head and makes me a nicer, happier person; I experience cool stuff - like feral monk parakeets at breakfast, the changing colors of the leaves, incredible sunrises, steam rising off the lake, snoozing cormorants, and other creatures. I meet interesting people who can converse in runner's lingo. I also love testing and pushing my physical abilities. I'm pretty naturally athletic, but it wasn't particularly encouraged by my family. In fact, I was discouraged from playing the sports I wanted to play, or given "appropriate for girls" alternatives. Boo! So, for years I was a closet runner, no racing, I just did it because I liked it and it made me happy. I didn't have "running clothes" and maybe replaced my running shoes every two years. Only in the past 10 years, and particularly the past 5, have I really given myself over to the pursuit of athletic goals. I invested in training and really began to nurture that aspect of myself and I feel there's so much more I'm capable of. So, I'm doing this to test my abilities, see what I'm capable of, to get better. I'm no fan of progress for progress' sake, I don't want my toothpaste to be "new and improved" every year, but when it comes to my personal abilities, I get a lot of satisfaction from the work to improve my fitness. I enjoy hill repeats and track intervals, tempo runs and fartleks. I know they pay off and I feel great when they're done, but I actually enjoy doing them, too. For me, they are worth the sacrifices.
Point Two: Absolutely. It took me 1700 miles of the AT to get this one, but in Glencliff, New Hampshire, when my hiking partner, Journey, went home and it was just me, Gracie, and the unknown trail ahead (arguably the most difficult sections - with threats of water crossings that were deep, swift, and cold; possible early season snowstorms; a dwindling window of available time; and the most challenging terrain yet) I knew I had to continue and that I would continue unless I felt I was putting myself or my dog in danger. I had reached a state of peace about the hike - if something happened and we had to go home, I would be disappointed, but not devastated. It would all have been worth every moment. I felt it, I knew it: the Journey was truly the Destination. The friends I made, the miles, the bugs and rain, the months of aching knees, the sweat and the tears, the fear, elation, peace, pain, frustration, and joy, and yes, the food I was able to eat were worth every step taken. It is the same with my marathon training. Regardless of the outcome of the race, I have gained new friends, a new level of fitness from which to start training for whatever's next (I don't expect this to be my only marathon), and the delight of encouraging and nurturing something I love about myself. The satisfaction of dedicating myself to a goal, and persevering to see it through. Now that I think about it, running was one of the first things I did to really take care of myself - body, mind, and spirit. Which brings me full circle to my love of running, and why I ran so many years without racing. Granted, at the moment I am training for an ambitious time goal but ultimately, it's not about the clock.
An introduction, because I can't think of anything more compelling this evening.
I chose to participate in Holidailies 2010 for several reasons. I used to work with Jette (Holidailies founder), knew about Holidailies from it's inception, and this year she suggested I "like" Holidailies on FaceBook. A few entries back, I described how a recent horoscope (Free Will Astrology) encouraged me to update my blog more regularly, and Holidailies seemed like a good motivator to put my writing out there on a semi-regular basis, and perhaps create a new habit. But I wouldn't have considered it had Jette not reminded me of it.
This is not the first time Jette, unbeknownst to her, has been instrumental in motivating me to do something. Back in 2000, when we worked together, I found out she'd signed up for a triathlon. I had been wanting to race a triathlon, had a lot of time on my hands (I'd just gotten out of a relationship), but was scared I wouldn't be able to swim the half mile required for the race. When I heard she'd signed up, I thought, if Jette can do it, why can't I, and the rest is history. So thanks, Jette, for inspiring me to do yet another thing that scares me a little.
Things you can expect to see here: posts about my favorite things: training (currently for my first marathon), food (best reason for running, mostly gluten free, dairy free, and healthy, but I do have my favorite indulgences - hello, Chocolate), my dawg, and whatever else I decide to throw in about stuff I like and stuff I do. And I usually manage to work in a reference to my thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail.
A demonstration - I could hardly wait to get home after tonight's run workout to make myself a basil pesto-black olive-red onion pizza, on Glutino gluten free crust. With a name like Glutino, I don't expect much. They actually make the best gf pretzels, which were a rare but exciting find in trail town grocery stores, but their bagels/pizza crusts have more of a yeast roll taste and consistency. Quite passable, but Udi's pizza crusts come far closer to the mark. I'm curious about the Udi's bagels, which have been waiting in my freezer for sampling. Happy Holidailies!
After a week and a day, I have running water in my bathroom again, and let me tell you, indoor plumbing never loses its novelty. I said that alot while hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2009, and the more I think about it, the more I think it is a universal truth.
I like my 3/4 bath with its vintage tile and pedestal sink. Last year I swapped out the toilet seat for a blue plastic one I'd salvaged from a 50s house I helped tear down. This year Eddie gave me a new set of faucets and Thanksgiving weekend seemed a good time to tackle the replacement. Two trips to Home Depot, four trips to Breed & Co, and eight days later, success! Gotta put in a word for the dudes in the hardware department at Breed (central location). That is my absolute favorite place to shop when I'm working on a project. More than half the time (this project not included) I walk out with spot on advice and no merchandise. They know their stuff, have everything I might need, and know where to find it in the store. You just don't get that kind of service at the big box home improvement stores. And they have killer truffles.
So, here's how the faucet replacement went down. I consulted a website or two to get some tips on the replacement. And headed to the conveniently close Home Depot for teflon tape and a nifty pipe wrench. The old faucet disassembly was simple enough. I was delighted to learn the waterline connections were the same size on the new faucet. Much thanks to the Eddie for the basin wrench. Here's the old faucet, minus the pop-up drain, which I'd already pulled.
All the gaskets were shot, the slip-joint extension for the drain pipe was in sad shape, plus, my first attempt at pop-up drain installation revealed a desperate need for plumbers putty. Off to Breed I went. Next, I installed the new pop-up drain and flange. A simple task made challenging by the limited workspace behind the pedestal. After getting it the drain in place I tried to reconnect to the p-trap, to discover I needed to take about 5/8" off the end of the drain pipe. Disassemble, cut, reassemble. Connect p-trap to drain, install faucets, pop-up drain lever, and reconnected the water lines. The moment of truth. I turn on the water and sadly, discover a leak at the p-trap connection. Tighten the connection some more. Still leaking. Dangit. I suspect it's the gasket, so back to Breed I go, and return with a different type of gasket. Still leaking. By this time it's late Saturday afternoon, and I'm tired of messing with it.
I think about the plumbing all week. When I finally get back to it the next weekend, on closer inspection I discover a little light filtering through the ell-shaped pipe that goes into the wall. Lovely. I start to think perhaps I need to call in a plumber, but I'm not ready to give up that easily. That pipe does not want to come out of the wall, but several hours after applying some WD40, I get it loose. In the meantime, I've been back to Breed for the replacement pipe and more gaskets, since the helpful hardware man explained on a previous visit that I only needed to hand tighten the nuts, and that the gaskets were getting pinched and were only good for one use. After cutting about an inch off the end of the new pipe, I get everything in place. Moment of truth #2 Still leaking, but now from hairline cracks in the j-bend pipe. By this time it's funny.
It's late, it's Sunday, and I'm really not motivated to drive all the way to Breed, so I fall back on the convenience of Home Depot, since I know what I want and where to find it. I install the new j-bend and finally, everything is working as it should. Exciting, no? Here's the purty new faucet:
Lesson learned - just buy the whole p-trap replacement set already.
The State Plumbing Examiners Office is not far from my house. I often wonder if they have a crack team there...
What does it take to be a successful thru-hiker or marathoner (which I'm not yet, but well on my way toward)? It's a mixed bag of characteristics, but I've realized a couple of things that work for me, and seem to be part of my nature, are a willingness to suffer (happy suffering, as Willow would say) and a short memory. Case in point, this weekend's 18 mile hilly as all get out long run.
Thursday prior I felt really fatigued and took a 1.5 hour nap (one of my favorite perks of freelance/contract work) then slept 10(!) hours that night. Friday I started to feel the beginnings of a cold - itchy/scratchy throat, sinus drainage, and by evening, sore throat. Now my Thursday fatigue made sense, but this did not bode well for the next day's long run. I did what I could to take care of myself - neti pot, EmergenC, salt water gargle, and hoped for the best.
Saturday morning I got up early enough to repeat the neti/gargle regimen. Long runs have entered the realm of "I've never run this far before" and this is my first marathon, so my sense of discipline and my fear of not being fully prepared for the race have me really committed to the training schedule. It also means long runs take on race morning excitement and energy. Which may explain why I felt a little better Saturday morning than I did Friday night. Still, I halfway hoped I'd see my coach early in the run and that she'd send me home when she heard I was nursing a cold. No such luck, but by the fourth mile, I'd mostly forgotten about it. That's not true. Every time we approached a water stop for the first 3/4 of the run, I hoped my coach would be there. When she wasn't, I reasoned that I didn't feel that bad, so I kept going. Willing to suffer in pursuit of a goal.
So, the run had quite a few long, steep hills, but two days later, I only remember two of them, and my general reaction is "those weren't so bad." Granted, it helps to have a frame of reference that includes plenty of Wilke and Hill of Life repeats, plus any number of mountains and the entirety of southern Maine on the Appalachian Trail. They provide points of comparison (whether or not accurate) from which I can tell myself "if you did X, you can certainly do this." Looking back at the entirety of the run, the only reminder of its difficulty is the soreness in my quads, which I'm still feeling today. Mentally, I'm still thinking, "that wasn't so bad."
The two things I most want to remember from this run are the sight of a majestic buck standing on the lawn in a residential neighborhood - so still I first thought he was a lawn ornament - as we ran by. And that I did it.
Here's the elevation profile from the run - doesn't look that bad, right?
