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March 20, 2006

March Madness Half Marathon

Here's the thing about this whole "train slow, race fast" strategy: it works, but between being a new to distance running and new to this approach (as opposed to the "just run the miles and hope you make it to the end of the workout" approach I used last year) is that I feel like I have no idea where my fitness level actually is. Last year, when I did my 10-mile training run, I did it at a 10:30 pace, and was done at the end of 10 miles. When I ran a half-marathon a week later, I knew that 10:30 would be the upper limit of how fast I'd be able to run it (I wound up averaging a 10:46 pace). All through my marathon training, I was doing workouts at or above what wound up being my target "marathon pace", so I always knew what I was capable of.

This year... I have no idea. I know that I can go out and run 11.5 miles at a 12:00 pace and still have plenty of gas left in the tank, and not be too sore or fatigued afterwards. But does that mean I can still go out and race 13 miles at a 10:30 pace? Or faster? Or will I kill myself doing something like that? No clue. Couple that with the fact that the longest I've run since the Detroit marathon is 11.5 miles, and, well, I was a little unsure of myself going in to Sunday's half-marathon. That was even before I'd considered the hills.

Yes, the hills. I know there are some that would claim that there are no hills in Illinois (and, I'm sure, compared to some other parts of the country, our "hills" are mere speed bumps), but when you train in the city of Chicago, the biggest, flattest stretch of land I've ever seen, and you're a relatively inexperienced runner who is still getting the hang of this whole "distance racing" thing and isn't sure about their fitness level? Well, the suggestion of a hill is enough to make you wonder if it's going to all be OK.

Luckily, I had some help. I had my coach telling me that, really, I was in good condition and I'd be able to run a great race. I had friends telling me that I'd have no problem on the hills. Plus, those same friends had run this course before, so they were able to tell me where the big ones were (save something for the big uphill at mile 10!) and what to watch out for (that big uphill at mile 10? Isn't the last uphill). I was a little nervous when I lined up for the start, but I took a deep breath, and put it all out of my mind. When the race started, I focused on taking it easy, and staying nice and relaxed. I wasn't going to worry about my time, or setting a new PR. I was just going to go out and run a nice, solid half.

You know what? It worked. Yeah, the course was hilly and downright challenging in spots. Yeah, that hill at mile 10 sort of sucked, and the other hills after that really sucked. But you know what? I've seen worse hills. I've gone up worse hills in races (I'm looking at you, DWD). I knew that, really, as long as I kept moving forward, I'd get up them eventually, and, really, I've seen worse. I got tired, and my legs were jello by the time I was done, but I never once had the experience of turning a corner or looking up ahead and seeing a hill that made me say, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." (Again, looking at you, DWD.)

I hit the halfway point feeling good. I thought about pushing the pace a little, but I didn't want to overdo it and hit the hills at the end with nothing left. Then I hit mile 7, did some quick math, and realized that as long as I maintained an 11:00 pace (I was averaging 10:30 - 11:00), I'd tie my PR of 2:20. Tie my PR! I couldn't believe it. I was just hoping to finish in 2:30 or so. The thought of matching or breaking my PR had crossed my mind, but not in any serious capacity. I tried to keep it nice and easy, and told myself I could push the pace after mile 10. The worst of the hills would be behind me, and I would just hammer out the last 5k.

The hill before mile 10 was a bear, but I got up it, and without stopping to walk. The smaller hills after it felt worse than they looked, because my legs were dead. However, I kept going. Kept pushing. My goal was to run each mile faster than the last. When I turned the last corner and had a (relatively flat) half-mile to go, I went for it. When I hit the 13-mile mark, I gave that last tenth of a mile everything I had left. I crossed the finish line feeling like I couldn't take another step, completely out of breath, and thinking perhaps I might need to find a quiet spot away from the crowds in which to throw up. I couldn't stop moving - I had to walk it off. I almost walked right past the volunteer collecting the bib strips in the finish chutes because I was seriously afraid that if I stopped to talk to the volunteers, I was going to barf on them.

I made it over to the refreshment table, took a bottle of water and a cup of gatorade. As I sipped the gatorade and kept on walking, looking for the people I'd come to the race with, I looked down at my watch. It was still running, but it said 2:19. 2:19. 2:19. It took me a second, but I slowly realized that 2:19 was less than 2:20. I'd broken my PR. My PR that I set on a flat, fast course. The PR that I didn't think I'd come anywhere near. The PR that was, well, no longer a PR. I couldn't believe it. As soon as I found everyone else, that was the first thing I said, "New PR!" I called my parents. I told everyone I talked to the rest of the afternoon that I'd run a half-marathon that morning, and set a new record for myself. (Being non-runners, most of them couldn't get past the fact that I'd run 13.1 miles and was still standing, but that was beside the point.) I couldn't freaking believe it. To be honest, I still can't. I mean, a new PR? On that course? That very un-flat, hilly, beast of a course? Because, seriously, I can't even tell you the last time I ran up anything that even resembled a hill. How on earth did I get through 13.1 miles of them without walking? And in record time?

I don't even know. What I do know is this: I ran an outstanding race yesterday, and now I'm really excited to see what I'll be able to do in Madison when that race rolls around in a couple of months. I'm not sure yet what's going to happen, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be something great.

Posted by Dawn at March 20, 2006 05:17 PM

Comments

Posted by: Simba's Mom at March 21, 2006 07:16 AM

Posted by: Reece at March 21, 2006 02:26 PM

Posted by: Dawn (aka Pink Lady) at March 22, 2006 10:30 PM

Posted by: Julie at February 27, 2007 04:28 PM