tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40191689307976379652024-03-13T10:43:51.069-07:00Recounting Race StoriesGuillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-9720908298552813822012-08-14T18:54:00.000-07:002012-08-14T18:54:08.409-07:00San Francisco Marathon race report<br />
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Story of my first marathon.</div>
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All the running magazines and all the
running books talk about the Boston Marathon. A book I've found
particularily helpful, Run Less, Run Faster, devotes about 1/3 of the
book to training plans with the specific goal of qualifying for
Boston.
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</div>
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I decided it was time for me to try.</div>
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Other runners I spoke to said they
thought that me getting into Boston was a sure thing. While this was
comforting, I still needed to, as they say, actually do the running.
As a newbie to the process, I thought I would just get one of the 10
open slots that our running club gets each year for Boston and enter
that way.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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“Bad idea,” my running friend
Patrick said. “You'll be starting with 5 hour charity runners. It
will be a traffic jam the whole race. You need to qualify.”</div>
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<br />
</div>
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After some talking, he connected the
dots that I was going to San Francisco and that it was a cool weather
marathon, even at the end of July. He advocated and I accepted the
challenge of getting a BQ in San Francisco.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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From the beginning of the race season
back in March, I had begun putting my race times and distances into
an online calculator that predicted my marathon finish time based on
the race I had just run. Even an easy race, 2 weeks after the
punishing 7-Sisters trail race, predicted a BQ, which was comforting.
Back in January, I had committed to doing the MassDash, a 24-hour
relay across the state which had me running 20 miles of road running
in a 18 hour span. My longest road race in my career up to that
point was 9 miles so I was committing to, within two weeks, putting
5x more road pounding then I had ever done.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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So, arriving at the start line injury
free was a big concern. In April of this year, I had done a hard
9-mile road race that I hadn't prepared my legs or body for properly.
One of the after effects was that I put my back into spasm and was
in bed for 3 days. After recovering from that, I shifted from
running 6-7x a week to running every-other day. On the non-running
days, I got on the stationary
</div>
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bike and peddled like crazy. While my
running volume was down, I always think of myself as a slow recoverer
and this seemed a good strategy.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Before the back spasm incident, I had
held a volume of 40 miles/week for 8 weeks. This left me incredibly
strong, running a faster pace for the 9 mile race then I was able to
hold for later, shorter races. It had also left me injured. Since I
had dicided to do so much racing during the 2012 season, I decided
that I would ere on the side of injury prevention over speed. This
balance seemed to be working for me as I reached the marathon
starting line injury free.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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After the MassDash, my family and I
traveled to California for some visiting of friends and camping in
the mountains. I did no running for the week after the relay, as is
my system after a long race, then only light running after that. My
longest run in the 3 weeks before the marathon, not counting the 20
miles of racing, was 1 hour and at that, I only hit that mark 2
times. While I knew that endurance is slow to fade and that even
touching speed in strides is enough to hold on to most of the speed,
I still wanted to run a harder workout close to the marathon to
“test” my legs.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I did not do this. There is a story of
the 196? American olympic marathon team that traveled to Europe. 1
week before the marathon, they ran the course as a “warm up” at
about 2:45 pace. On the actual race day, the fastest member only ran
a 2:43, way slower then his training predicted. The others couldn't
even match their “practice” run pace. I knew enough to not make
this mistake, even though I wanted to. That resistance to desire is
certainly part of the discipline of the pre-marathon taper.</div>
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</div>
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A key to success in any long race is
picking a pace at the beginning that you can hold at the end. Of
course, how does one know what pace your body will be able to
withstand after 2 hours of hard running? To find this, there is only
one place go to – past race performance.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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In 2011, I had run the Pisgah 50k trail
race and, using my 2010 performance, had picked a pace that turned
out to be too slow. I say this because I raced the lats 11 miles
more then a minute faster then I raced the first 20 miles. A well
paced race should have no more then 10 second difference per mile at
the beginning of the race then at the end. I had been much too
conservative in the 50k pace prediction.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Knowing this, I agonized over my
starting pace. Julienne was infinitely patient as I daily spoke
about what I thought my body would be able to do on marathon day.
My best race, the pre-spasm 9 miler, predicted a 2:45 marathon. My
slowest 10k predicted a 3:11 marathon. I needed at least a 3:15 to
qualify. What would I run?</div>
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<br />
</div>
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It used to be that anyone who wanted to
drop the registration money could run in the Boston Marathon. Then,
as the field sizes grew, the organizes put qualifying times in,
meaning every runner who went into the race planning and ready to
race it, had to have run a previous marathon. Then, only a few years
ago, there were more people with qualifying times then there are
spaces for runners on the roads. As a consequence, qualifying
times became tighter and even having a qualifying time was no longer
a guarantee of an entry spot – now, you wanted the fastest
qualifying time you could get.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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So, just because I was pretty sure I
could run a 3:15 marathon, that wasn't good enough. I wanted a fast
marathon to ensure a slot in the big race. But could I run a sub-3
marathon? For many people, that is a central goal of the marathon.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I decided that a sub-3 marathon 2 weeks
after the Dash was more then my body was capable of. The zone of
my predicted performance narrowed as I put past performances plus
their elevation data and temperature date into online calculators to
estimate a performance on a cool San Francisco morning with its '1000
of climbing and descent.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I came up with a 3:08 time. This was
fast enough that, if I was feeling good at mile 15, I could start
running faster and possibly get below 3:05. Going below 3:05 meant
that I would beat the qualifying time by 10 minutes and would be able
to register for the big race earlier then most people. 3:08 was also
fast enough that if I started really struggling later in the race, I
had enough of a margin to probably finish below 3:15.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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So, I went into the race ready to run
7:10 miles. I would start behind the 3:05 pace group and determine
to never pass then.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I kept that determination until about
mile 5. The first parts of SF are 4 mile of very flat running. The
miles, when I could find the hidden, pointing backward, small or
non-existent mile markers, were coming in at 6:50-7 min/mile. A
little fast but I still felt safe. Then, as we began the first climb
across the Golden Gate bridge, we click off a 7:40 mile that felt
much too easy for me.</div>
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</div>
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I check with the 3:05 pace group leader
and based on his goals for the race, the group was on target. He
planned to be ahead some time in the beginning, lose some time on the
hills, then gain some time again toward the end of the race where the
was more downhill. This seemed like a good idea but in the moment,
that 7:40 mile felt and looked (on my watch) too slow for my 7:10
pace. I passed the pace group as I headed into mile 9 where I picked
up 2 GUs to replace the two I had already eaten.</div>
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</div>
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Fueling during a long race is very
important, another key to a successful marathon. In the edition of
Running Times that had come out just before the race, there was an
article by researcher, Tim Noakes, who had written the Lore of
Running, a thick, research based book on running. I had learned a
lot reading that book and in his recent article about hydration, I
learned another key fact. Don't drink too much liquids.</div>
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During the 50k race of 2011, I had
stopped to pee 3 times. This felt excessive to me but at the time, I
was operating under the plan that one needs to replace fluids as
quickly as they are lost. I was also under the impression that one
of the reasons for a Bonk (my 2010 Pisgah experience) was lack of
fluids. After reading Noakes article, I changed my thinking.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Bonking, he advocated, was only about
low blood sugar, not hydration. Only drink when you're thirsty.
Marathon finishers can end with a 7-10% body weight drop and are
otherwise in fine health and recover just fine.</div>
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</div>
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Based on this, I stuck with my 2 GUs an
hour and only drinking based on thirst.</div>
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</div>
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From mile 10-20, the course was mostly
through a large park, the Golden Gate Park. At one point, we
marathoners ran past the finish of the 1<sup>st</sup> ½ marathon and
it I felt envious to not be stopping. Or, maybe more of a feeling of
“Hey, good for them.” It's nice to try to keep it positive.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I chatted with another runner for a
little while from around mile 14 to mile 15. We both commented on
the bad mileage markers. He too was working to qualify for Boston,
after failing to qualify for Boston at Boston due to high
temperatures. He later went ahead of me and was successful in his
bid.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Things really began to get going at
mile 20. Up to this point, my legs were working fine but they showed
signs of growing fatigue. At the top of a rise near mile 20, I
suddenly felt bad. I noticed some regurgitated GU in my mouth, my
legs felt crampy and I felt light headed. I slowed way down for a
few paces, took a few deep breaths and....</div>
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<br />
</div>
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nothing. I was suddenly fine. I
realized that at mile 20, I needed to shut up, calling out to the
crowds “Hey, thanks for coming out!” and focus inward on the
running. Frank Shorter has a running book where he speaks of
disassociating and associating. Early in a race, he advocates lots
of mind wandering and being lazy brained. Later, as the body begins
to fatigue, he advocates focusing, or “associating” and bringing
your brain back to the task at hand.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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And so, starting at mile 20, I began to
really focus. I stopped saying “Nice job man,” when I passed
runners. I stopped hooting back to the crowd. And I especially
stopped calling out to the young women holding signs that said such
things as, “Hey, Sweaty Guy! I Know We're Strangers. This Might
Seem Strange but... Give Me A Call!”</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I found that as fatigue became greater,
I was still moving nicely. Toward the end of the race, there are a
large number of downhills. These were a challenge to my tired legs
but not so much that I was forced to slow dramatically. I did find
that my vision started to be a problem. Toward the end of the race,
if I ran too fast, I started getting stars in my eyes and tunnel
vision.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Later, I talked to Jay, my running
Guru. During the race and after, I had thought this vision problem
was due to lack of oxygen.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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“What kind of pace were you holding?”
he asked.</div>
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“7 minute miles.”</div>
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“Nope, not oxygen, not for you. You
have to be at max heart rate to get oxygen debt problems. What kind
of calories were you taking in?”</div>
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“2 GUs an hour,” I said.</div>
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“That should be enough. Sounds like
you had an electrolyte imbalance,” he said.</div>
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“I figured the GUs had that covered.”</div>
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“That's what their advertising says
but in practice, there is almost never enough either Potassium or
Sodium in those. Where you drinking a lot of electrolye replacer?”
he asked.</div>
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“Only enough that I wasn't thirsty.”</div>
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“Hmmm. There it is.”</div>
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<br />
</div>
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So, next marathon, I'll have to carry
some of the electrolyte tabs they sell and toward the end, start
throwing some in my body.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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At about 1 mile to go, I started
speeding up but again, my vision was the limiting factor, not my
legs. I was certainly tired but I felt I had a bit more speed to
give. In the last ½ mile, I slowly accelerated. A guy came up on
my right and I said to myself, “Nope, no more passers,” and I
began to squeeze down on my remaining reserves. I also squeezed my
eyes tight and shook my head because as I accelerated, even though I
was forcefully breathing to get more oxygen into my system (wrongly
thinking this was the problem,) I was concerned I might trip and fall
so close to the finish.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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As it was, I probably passed 15 runners
in the last mile, some I had last seen many mile before. Some were
moving very slowly, which I had great compassion for, having
experience it before. I also knew the cause - they did not eat
enough during the run.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I came though the finish line in
3:04:20, a very pleasing result given that I beat my qualifying time
by 10 minutes and that it was my first marathon and only 2 weeks
after 20 miles of racing. I stumbled around for a bit, had a few
smoothies, chatted with two guys who I had chatted with during the
race, and then my teeth began to chatter.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Between the cold smoothies and the
cool day and the depth of my fatigue, I was tired and cold. I limped
to the UPS truck that had my bag and retrieved my sweats. After
talking myself through the process of dressing and keeping the
reflective mylar plastic under my jacket, I then began to negotiate
the walk back to the car.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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For a few block, I was lost, unsure
exactly which way I had walked 4 hours before. At that time, there
had been many people streaming toward the start line so I just joined
the herd. Now, alone, it took some doing but I soon found a few
identifiable features that guided me safety.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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It was on the walk back that I began to
get giddy laughter about my feeling of success. By the time I had
gotten back to our friend's house, Julienne was still able to see the
lingering phase of the giddiness. All I had to do was think about
how I had just run what I feel was basically the fastest marathon I
could have done under the conditions, I would start to have giddiness
bubble out of me.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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I was glad she shared that and I was
glad to be on the way to Boston!</div>
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</div>
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<br />
</div>
Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-58085421821231579172012-05-18T12:47:00.001-07:002012-05-18T12:59:57.860-07:00Two weeks ago, I raced the 7-sisters trail race. I've done this 4 other times and started training in late January with the plan of finally breaking 2hrs. I not only didn't meet my goal, I didn't even run as fast as the year before. Still, I was very pleased with my performance for a number of reasons.<br />
<br />
5 weeks before Sisters, I raced an 8 mile road race. I ran 2 minutes faster then my 5k PR would predict. Through out the race, I found I kept slowing down because my brain was getting lazy about pushing the pace and I would work to accelerate. My body was happy with the faster pace but my mind kept getting lazy. I race a very fast race.<br />
<br />
That race was a very strong performance that left me feeling that a sub-2 hr Sisters time was within reach. It also left my calves severely shredded. I took 4 day off from running.<br />
<br />
During these 4 days, I overdid some strength work (Burpees, anyone?) which lead to my back seizing up. Roll out of bed anyone? I tried to keep my volume up by doing a lot of biking. Three weeks out from sisters, I started running again and it did not go well. My runs were mostly run/walk affairs. On a trail run 1-week out from Sisters, I can strong for 40 minutes then my quads seized up and I hobbled back the last 20 minutes.<br />
<br />
3 days before sisters, I did a track workout. I took it easy but felt good at the end so I pushed a fast quarter. Again, by the time I had gotten home in the car, my left quad was tight. Things did not look good for Sisters.<br />
<br />
I took the 2 days before off and hoped for the best. <br />
<br />
Race strategy was basically go for broke. I wanted to at least run the 1st half faster then my PR then bail if my body let me down. For the two hours and 7 minutes of racing, I kept waiting for my body to let me down but it never did. It did do some interesting things.<br />
<br />
The race starts with 300 people crowding onto a single-track start along a road. Then, we try to bolt up a hill. I started off in about 30th and was easily gliding up the hill with people I would soon pass. Strangely though, the slight extra speed needed to accelerate up the very rocky trail took me from feeling easy to lactic burn in the legs. This is common on this race - no real difference in speed between an easy run and a ball buster.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2goivjaQUP0KF1SecUjIoUfrKkaLe-DmA2-79IkichEPdKKbB0CqdAx0n1gsUAQ40VSL99rqRqC5keox62Tr1_If9UlSq6Ikg9h_cLgJaRC9pMcttgnYXWunDT-y7G-WZFEJTeK8JpU27/s1600/seven+sisters+2012-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2goivjaQUP0KF1SecUjIoUfrKkaLe-DmA2-79IkichEPdKKbB0CqdAx0n1gsUAQ40VSL99rqRqC5keox62Tr1_If9UlSq6Ikg9h_cLgJaRC9pMcttgnYXWunDT-y7G-WZFEJTeK8JpU27/s320/seven+sisters+2012-1.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending into the turnaround</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I pushed the pace all the way to the turnaround and was rewarded with a 59:30 turn around time, 30 seconds faster then my pr. I then began a long ascent from river level back up to the top where the Mt. House sits. This climb takes about 10 minutes where as the descent took only 5. <br />
<br />
In my 2011 effort, I found that on running up a hill, my breathing would be casual, walk in the park, and my legs would be on fire. This year, the climbing efforts were more balanced. On several climbs, I had to cut my pace until the needles stopped digging into my legs. On other climbs, I had to relax the pace because I was starting to get tunnel vision due to lack of oxygen in my brain.<br />
<br />
I had raced the mile in January and recognized this tunnel vision as a good sign that I was maxing out my respiratory system. <br />
<br />
At the beginning of the race, I had squeezed two goos into my 500ml running bottle and topped it off with water. I finished drinking this about 1h10min into the race. I had grabbed 1/2 an orange at the turn around. At 1h30min into the race, I took my last goo with some water I'd refilled quickly at one of the water stations.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSz0hNGfuEpEr53jNpV10QeRFX3AXRVHs0LJqqhDDhjNrVREoC_lAFMLT2_1sFIzAmLjwJMUQ1c7qM0B9L5atMyXjleX6RwGNWjnGGC0CRNE459b2o5eI1xByOXrtTkXFxADUYzdSoMfAB/s1600/seven+sisters+2012-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSz0hNGfuEpEr53jNpV10QeRFX3AXRVHs0LJqqhDDhjNrVREoC_lAFMLT2_1sFIzAmLjwJMUQ1c7qM0B9L5atMyXjleX6RwGNWjnGGC0CRNE459b2o5eI1xByOXrtTkXFxADUYzdSoMfAB/s320/seven+sisters+2012-2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing back up after the turnaround</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, I went charging into the final descent knowing I had not PR'd. There was a 25 year old kid was incredible as he passed me on the knarle downhill. I tried to keep up with his insane descent speed but quickly found I was making some really bad foot placement choices and let him go. In the last 2 minutes of running, he gained 30 seconds on me. Ouch.<br />
<br />
So, a 2h7m30sec finish, a 10th place finish and a very satisfying race. I was glad to have red-lined my running systems, glad that both my back and my muscles didn't seize up, and glad to take a week off from running (not cycling!) was I waited to be recovered. I'm now trying to be an every-other day runner, with cross training (read hard cycling) on the other days.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-13958442872443764082012-01-16T09:04:00.000-08:002012-01-16T09:32:07.299-08:00Racing the MileMy friend Marcus and I spoke in the summer. "When I turn 40, I'm thinking about trying to run a 4-minute something mile," he said. Read, 4:59 mile. "You in?" I said I was up for the challenge and once I'd finished a short rest period in late November, began training just for this race.<br />
<br />
For a month and a half, I did 2 or 3 speed workouts a week at different tracks where I could find them. It turns out that many public schools with nice all-weather tracks also have nice, all-weather fences and all-weather locks on them so there are limited choices. Only the private schools or cinder tracks seem open to me getting in my speed work.<br />
<br />
Speed work can be very painful. As I would start running, I would think, "Ok, here it comes," as the first strides around the track quickly grind down to a contest of will. Do I have the will to keep up this pain until the white line that looms in the distance across the track? Will I make it across the line before I lose total control of my legs or my sense of balance goes such that I stumble on the turns? Will I keep enough oxygen in my system so my eyes continue to work?<br />
<br />
As race day came, I was determined to feel a lot of pain. My A-goal was a 4:59 mile. My B-goal was a 5:08 mile (1 second per lap slower then my goal) and my C-goal was simply to be in a lot of pain. My real question was - could I take the pain? For inspiration, I would recall the story of a Navy Seal going for the record underwater swim. In an olympic sized pool with his buddies standing by, the dove under water and swam back and forth, taking no breath's until ... he simply blacked out and stopped swimming. His buddies would dive in, haul his lifeless body out, and pump air back into him until he started breathing. <br />
<br />
I wanted to have that kind of will and feel that kind of pain.<br />
<br />
The indoor track meet had record attendance and as such, there were 2 heats of women's miles and 4 heats of men's miles. My race started an hour behind schedule. Still, I felt warmed up, running in the warmth for the first time in months. Well, besides a treadmill.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kaeNy40ot5LM3WBdbr0amDWmlLEynzefDWWwZcKoYBegoJlq7csX39z2o-lQJSokicNIQRPORVwnX79nW1z0yCI8g8ArVJBHyQ8X3ijqvJ7NVA1kO7a_l7qoBeiyDIypoirhoCAxUlCe/s1600/DSC04086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kaeNy40ot5LM3WBdbr0amDWmlLEynzefDWWwZcKoYBegoJlq7csX39z2o-lQJSokicNIQRPORVwnX79nW1z0yCI8g8ArVJBHyQ8X3ijqvJ7NVA1kO7a_l7qoBeiyDIypoirhoCAxUlCe/s640/DSC04086.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the mix right after the start. In orange racing singlet.</td></tr>
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I lined up behind the front line in our 12 person Elite mile race. I was running with the fastest guys so when I was immediately off the back of the pack, I didn't mind. As I came around the first half of the 8-lap race, I glanced at my watch. "Crap," I thought. "Too fast." I had gone out almost 2 seconds faster the my goal. I put on the breaks.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLf2cc_ozslJh-WpS7neDi0YwpJjyBXRWneEytDqzxPYluDfRZ-W3HELekydgny6yTHDiMONVKGgPVkhiAM9er87X6wvnexfut5Rzv0wERp75sZSUCMMP_RBS6A-RQ8wR_obetrcbzwv9/s1600/DSC04088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLf2cc_ozslJh-WpS7neDi0YwpJjyBXRWneEytDqzxPYluDfRZ-W3HELekydgny6yTHDiMONVKGgPVkhiAM9er87X6wvnexfut5Rzv0wERp75sZSUCMMP_RBS6A-RQ8wR_obetrcbzwv9/s320/DSC04088.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lap 2 and way behind. Thanks Julienne for the pics!</td></tr>
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Oops, too much break. I came around the first lap 2 seconds slow. Still losing ground on the people ahead of me, I stepped up the pace a bit. At lap 2, I was 4 second behind my goal. "Man," I thought, "I have got to go." Just like I did in practice, I began to swing my arms more consciously and started pushing. Half way through the race, I was still 4 seconds down but glad to not be losing time.<br />
<br />
I had run 800m repeats in practice and they had nearly crippled me, trying to run at full speed. Now, I had just completed the same distance and felt fine. I didn't feel fresh, but I didn't feel the strain of "rigging" up, when the lactic acid in one's legs and arms start to restrict full range of motion. I had planned on fighting through this feeling but now in the excitement of the race, I barely noticed it. Was I even going fast enough to feel it?<br />
<br />
I have not raced the mile in 22 years and my inexperience was showing. Still, as we moved into 6 laps, I passed the first runner. We were coming into the back straight when I caught him. I was worried he would fight me and force me to pass on the turn. Instead, I glided easily by him and finished my 6th lap. The coach from our summer track sessions was by the line and said, "Good, good," as I began my 7th lap. The race was passing by my disembodied consciousness so quickly, it wasn't until the the end of the first turn of the 7th lap that I remembered that now was "go" time.<br />
<br />
I had practiced so many times on a 4-lap to a mile track that 8-laps was just the little change that again showed my inexperience. I finally began pushing and passed another running with 1 lap to go.<br />
<br />
I pushed and pushed on the last lap, hoping for the leg burn that I had grown to expect after even a single fast lap of the track. I began to get the tingle and slightly off-beat step in the final turn so I knew I was satisfyingly tired. Still, I had planned for this burn to last 1/2 the race. Again, there were so many new things about the race that I wasn't focusing properly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4Wv6RnC0FD2s9GZuRpZgRTQSARnqpzsyc0n34lBvmWlPZ1k_eEt0kbHjY6Gh0ynehORLWl7-dvHe_AxFH-Q-5D06kMiNlwoRWKSwTpxSP7vCAI1afH5W8AXauPSch3H6tDMBPMmsVAYV/s1600/DSC04089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4Wv6RnC0FD2s9GZuRpZgRTQSARnqpzsyc0n34lBvmWlPZ1k_eEt0kbHjY6Gh0ynehORLWl7-dvHe_AxFH-Q-5D06kMiNlwoRWKSwTpxSP7vCAI1afH5W8AXauPSch3H6tDMBPMmsVAYV/s320/DSC04089.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the line. Note the two runners behind me. Thanks Julienne for the pics!</td></tr>
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As I crossed the line, I was too tired to grab the paper from the line official. I was glad to see I was exhausted.<br />
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Later, after my breathing had calmed down, I walked to the race table. I found my time - 5:04, and found that I was pleased. It was clear to me that I have the fitness to run faster. It was my race inexperience that caught me off guard. I had run the last 6 laps at the pace I needed to reach my goal. For the next race, to be held the next weekend, I would not put on the breaks if I found that my first 1/2 lap was too fast. It was that one move, I feel, that cost my my goal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Interestingly, looking at the Jack Daniel's (I know, not that one) race time prediction charts, I found my best 5k time from the summer - 17:24. Then I slid across to my predicted mile time based on that performance. 5:04. Well, I thought. At least I'm consistent.Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-19570649320528555292011-11-15T06:33:00.001-08:002011-11-15T07:44:01.435-08:00The Cape Cod marathon was not snowed out, only the roads between me and it. As such, I found that early November, instead of being a time to recover from a marathon, I was in race shape and looking for a race. Because of the aftereffects of Hurricane Irene in September, the Mt. Toby race was reschedule to the time I was ready for a race.<br />
<br />
As with any race, I try to go in with a clear goal. Having trained and tapered for a marathon I didn't run, I decided that this was the year I would beat my 2002 Mt. Toby race time. I wanted to beat my PR set when I was 31, racing fast and well but training very inconsistently. In 2010, with more consistent training, I had missed the mark by 1 minute. <br />
<br />
I slept surprisingly well the night before the race. Usually, I've been thinking about a focus race for months as I train. With Mt. Toby, I hadn't done any workouts specifically thinking about it, just some basic weeks of training. As such, I was less hyped about the race which was nice. Unfortunately, the kids were both a little sick. At Mt. Toby 2010, I had cramped up at the end of the race and later, was sick in bed for 3 days. Would I repeat again this year? I kept waking up in the morning feeling groggy - or was it the beginning of being sick?<br />
<br />
As is usual, I wrote out my schedule the night before - wake 3 hours before the race for a good breakfast, plan to arrive at the race 1 hour before to do some chatting and sign in, warmup 20 minutes before the race, start eating 15 minutes after the race had started.<br />
<br />
During the chatting part of the race, I spoke with two guys from Worcester who had never taken on a trail race before. It was satisfying, as a veteran of 4 of these races, to be able to give a nice race report.<br />
<br />
At the start, I knew two guys who were going to go faster then me. One guy, Aaron Stone, I see a fair bit in races but only at the start. As a fluke, I had beaten him in 2010 but with one Mt. Toby under his belt, I was sure he was going to easily beat me. After these two guys, the field felt thin so I was curious how I would finish overall.<br />
<br />
Pacing is always a question. I had mentally thought about how I had pushed for the last 10 miles of the Pisgah trail race. I remembered the feeling of pressing down on the uphills and strongly accelerating at the crest of small rises. I knew that I needed to maintain this type of pacing to meet my main goal - run the fastest I ever have for this race.<br />
<br />
From the start, I was running at what felt like the speed was good load on my legs. I almost immediately longed for the more languid pace of a longer race. At 14 miles, this was still a "go-go" race for me - I couldn't relax.<br />
<br />
After the short pavement climb, we hit the trails - a muddy jeep trail. This race is 5 miles of rolling hills and general climb followed by a long 2 mile grind to the top of the Mt. This is followed by a harrowing 2 mile descent as we retrace our steps. As is my usual pace strategy, I start comfortably and slowly increase the effort. I am almost always finishing the last mile of a race faster then the 1st mile. This can be a generally good strategy but unless I get that pace right in the beginning, I don't run my fastest race possible. <br />
<br />
When we hit the woods, I was in maybe 15th pace. I would run with a few guys for a minute or two then push on past them as the realized the pace they had choosen was too fast. I ran this way for a while until I caught up with Scott. I see him at many races - at the starting line and about 1/4 of the way through the race. He is a rabbit runner - starts out fast and slows down. I'm a negative split runner, start out slower and drop my time as I run. As I do most races, when I catch him, we chat a little. I always joke with him that he started too fast. In 2010, I beat him by 10 minutes. This year, the gap was at least 15 minutes.<br />
<br />
The long slow slog began. I wondered if I was working hard enough. There were several times when I started walking when the slope was just too steep. I found that a secondary goal besides setting a PR had set in - I didn't want to hurt that much. As such, I kept the climb to a speed where I would get a slight burn in my legs but kept riding the edge, knowing that I had the very demanding descent still ahead. I found it strange that at this speed, my lungs were not working anywhere near their capacity. I had run into this earlier in the year at the 7 Sisters race. Here, there were many small climbs and my breathing was incredibly relaxed on the hills. As I write this, I see a clear weakness in my training - compared to my lungs, my legs are weak. While I feel like I run a fair amount of hills, it is not near enough. It's time to increase the incline on the treadmill more.<br />
<br />
Near the top of the Mountain, the climb levels out for the last 1/2 mile or so. Here, I caught up to 2 runners. I had been slowly gaining on them the whole climb and only when it level out was I was able to accelerate and pass them. After tagging the fence, I refilled my water bottle and they both passed me. I took off after them and quickly repassed them.<br />
<br />
They were not happy about this and for the next mile, as I worked at gliding the downhill, one of them was on my tail. In my pre-race planning, I had planned to not push the downhill as I had in the past. As a younger runner, I thought about the downhill as free speed. Now, as an almost Masters runner, I think of the downhill as free damage - a chance to shred your legs. In earlier Tobys, at this part of the race I was nearly blinded by speed wetness in my eyes and hyperventilating from the effort as I tried to push the downhill as hard as I could. This time around, the downhill felt relaxed and almost comfortable. When it finished, I was a little melancholy - now, based on my pre-race plan, it was time to start making the running hurt. Now was the time to go.<br />
<br />
Coming out of turns, I would pump my arms to sprint back to my race speed. I found I was still leaping over logs, a good sign that I was holding up well. When a branch needed to be swatted out of my face, I still raised my arm to the challenge, not yet tired enough to simply squint my eyes and duck.<br />
<br />
As I squeezed down on the speed, working to keep smooth, I was feeling good about my time. I had been careful up to this point and was now running what I felt to be my maximum speed. As I ran along, barreling toward the finish, I felt that here, for this part of the race, this was the fastest I would ever run this portion. This, I thought, is my top speed.<br />
<br />
Another running came toward me and I quickly passed him. He was a younger runner who looked like he was suffering. My race journal states that the year I ran my best race, I had bonked about 2 miles to go and got passed by an older runner. Today was this kid's turn to bonk and get passed.<br />
<br />
I passed the last aid station and did not refill my bottle. I was running empty, light and knew I could hold the pace to the end.<br />
<br />
When I hit the paved road, I knew I had basically 2 laps of a track to go. I thought, ok, two laps at 85 seconds each, just like in training. I knew how much that pace could hurt at the end of a workout and knew that now was the time for it. As I came down the last paved hill and headed for the turn on the dirt road for the park, I saw another runner ahead of me. Keith Schmidt has been beating me for years and here he was. I was closing in on him pretty quickly but not fast enough to close the gap. <br />
<br />
I had checked my watch at the turnaround point and knew it had taken me about an hour to get to the top of the mountain and so I had only about 40 minutes to retrace my steps. As I surged toward the fiinish line, the was a small rise. I charged and felt my pace barely slow. I was satisfied to hear a few of the onlookers let out an audible "Woah!" as I sped into the corral. I crossed the line about 30 seconds behind Keith, unsure if I had attained my main goal. After my breathing came back to normal, I checked in on my time. 1:38:45. I had accomplished my goal and gotten 5th place in the process.<br />
<br />
Strangely, I was no elated. Earlier in the year, at the Pisgah 50km race, I had set a PR by 30 minutes over a course about twice the length of this. Today, I had only set a PR by about 2 minutes and while I know that a 1/2 hour PR is quite unusual, part of me had begun to expect massive PRs. While this had been a year of PRs - 10 minutes at 7-Sisters (12 miles) , 1 second in road 5km, 30 minutes at Pisgah, a simple 2 minute PR seemed less then I could have expected.<br />
<br />
Writing this, it has been an impressive year. I probably won't again set so many PRs in 1 year, thought next year I do have 4 PR goals on the list. That said, this race, which I only committed to 2 weeks before the race, meant less to me and as such, setting a PR also means less to me. I think that had I caught Keith, who had beat me at Pisgah by 45 minutes in 2010, I might feel different about the race. Maybe next time, next race.<br />
<br />
<br />Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-72321431530565821202011-09-19T08:12:00.000-07:002011-09-19T08:12:55.797-07:00Pisgah 50km 2011The Pisgah 50km trail race was my goal race for the year and I slept horribly the night before. They warn you about that so I knew it wouldn't effect my race performance. It didn't.<br />
<br />
My previous attempt at this race, in 2010, consisted of 20 miles of strong running, 10 miles of "death march" and 1 mile of fast finish. Even with all the death march, I PR'd by 30 minutes. My A,B, and C goals for this year were A) go under 5 hrs (15 min faster than last year) B) At least go faster then last year and finally C) if all else fails, please, please no more death march.<br />
<br />
When I finished, I found myself weeping tears of joy - a new experience for me after a race. I walked around for a good 5 minutes saying, "I can't believe it," as giggly sobs trickled down my face. I met all my goals.<br />
<br />
Before the race, I had ramped up my mileage to an average of 20 miles./week more then the previous year. I also was more consistent about running. Finally, I spent time practicing my race pace. To break 5 hours, I needed to hold 9min40second miles for 31 miles. After track workouts, I would finish with a 9:40 mile. Strangely, it is difficult to run so very slow after doing 1200m repeats at 5:40 mile speed.<br />
<br />
Coming around the track as I practiced my pace, as I headed onto another straightaway, I pictured the short section of pavement at the beginning of the race and imagined I was starting the race. I imagined the 50-70 people would would quickly be in front of me at the start, knowing that most of them would start to fast.<br />
<br />
I was determined to run a smart race. My practice paid off.<br />
<br />
A few minutes into the race, I met up with a few runners I knew from track practice. Very nice people but we would be racing very different races. At this point last year, I would have thought, "Man, I'm going too slow." This year I knew the reality - they were going too fast. After a bit, I passed them when my footwork on stones was faster even though our speeds on the flats was similar.<br />
<br />
The first waterstop - a few jugs in the woods, happened at mile 4.8. I had a pace chart on my wrist based on the starting time. I expected to arrive at the water at 9:30 and as 9:29 rolled around, I started to get nervous that I was behind. Then, around the next corner, I saw the jugs. 9:30 - precise. I was very pleased.<br />
<br />
It was another 33 minutes until the next stop - this time an Aid station. There was some climbing in this section, which I was careful to walk on the steep parts, knowing that if I was running flat sections with a slight whistle of the wind in my ears, I was on a good pace. I ran with some nice guys - one on his first ultra. They made nice company but soon, I found I was thinking more about the chat than the race. I had made this mistake the year before - running a faster pace because the company was so good. Now, on a slight down, I rolled the pace a bit and found the company was falling back. I decided to let them go.<br />
<br />
Soon, the first aid station came up. Like a good triathlete, I was ready for a fast transition - bottle already open as I grabbed cup after cup and dumped them into my water bottle. Bottle top back on, I went trotting off and checked my watch. 10:03 it said. Checked my pacing chart - Wow! - 10:03. I was nailing the pace.<br />
<br />
I needed to go over Mt. Pisgah between mile 17 and mile 20. I had decided that if I was on pace after mile 20 and felt good, I could start running by feeling and not by strategy. Things were looking good.<br />
<br />
After aid station 2, at 12 miles, there is an incredibly steep section of paved wood road. I downed nearly a 1/2 a bottle of sports drink during the long walk up. My drink strategy for the race was a) only drink sports drink to be sure I get enough electrolytes and b) drink at least 1 bottle an hour. During my 2010 death march, I had assumed under training was the main culprit. Since then, I had decided that not enough fluids was the main culprit. I had done a number of training runs where I found I was drinking about 500ml an hour so on my projected 5 hour run, I needed to down 2.5 liters of fluid. I did.<br />
<br />
Not long after the top of the paved section, after I'd started running again, I began to feel a tightness in my lower abdominal area. I tried adjusting my bottle belt and my shorts but nothing worked. Then, I tried something else. I pulled over for my 2nd of 3 pit stops. After 10 seconds (yes, I did count) I was running again and the discomfort was gone.<br />
<br />
The next water was at 10:55. After the long walk up the hill, I expected to be a bit behind. I was working the downhills more but wasn't sure if that was enough to stay on pace. Still, I began counting down the minutes. 3, 2, 1, Water. I was perfectly on pace after 2 hours of racing. I raised my arms and shouted "Nice Job Man!" as I passed the water. I had planned on not filling up here.<br />
<br />
A half an hour on, I filled my bottle again. 3 hours into the race, I had finished 3 bottles and was loaded with my forth as I headed over the mountain. As I left the station, I looked at my pacing chart and saw :55 but my watch said :27. "What station are you?" I called back. "17!" the volunteer yelled. Oh, I realized. I had looked at the wrong pace and had a momentary panic - I did not want to be 20 minutes ahead of pace. I was in fact 2 minutes ahead, which was fine with the mountain coming.<br />
<br />
The mountain is a long, slow grind up mostly runable trails. There was a bit of walking. At this point in the race, I had been passed by one guy - in a green shirt. He had run a 4:48 the year before and hoped to do similar. "I started too slow," he had said as he passed me. I let him go, pleased to run my own race. Other than that, with my pace oriented race, I was continually passing people. About once every 10 minutes, a new shape would appear in the distance and in good fashion, I would catch up, say "Looking good," then quickly distance them. <br />
<br />
As I came down off the mountain and my legs were feeling strong taking the impact of my body as I dropped 1, 2, sometimes 3 feet with every stride, I thought again of Dave Wottle. I couldn't remember his name at the time but I was thinking of pacing so much that he was often on my mind. In the 1972 Olympics, he ran the 800m and won in with what seemed a tremendous kick in the last 200 meters. Upon analysis, it turned out there was absolutely no kick. Dave had determined what time he need to win then had practiced and practiced the pace until he could hold nearly perfect 26.5 second 200 meter splits. At the beginning, he was far off the back of the race. As I continued in a race where my splits were holding true, I knew what he was thinking in that world class race. "They all went out too fast."<br />
<br />
I came down from the mountain for another bottle fill and a time check. Goal - 11:57. Actual, 11:59. That was fine with me because I had planned that this might be a little slow. The next section,. the Kilburn loop, is known for being fast. Now that I had passed 20 miles feeling good, I came off pace and raced by feel.<br />
<br />
This was the point last year where I had totally fallen apart. I stopped sweating (evidence of not enough liquids) and my arms were chafing badly. I also had had trouble navigating any terrain, even flat terrain, that had boulders in it. Now, as I literally charged around curves and powered up hills, I was imagining the pain I had been in the year before.<br />
<br />
I began to look for "me." Runners were coming to me quickly now and as I passed them and said, "Nice job man," (only the experienced women were ahead of me - those who wouldn't blow their pacing) I checked to see if they were in as bad of shape as I had been. None were - they were all moving nicely, just not fast.<br />
<br />
Coming off the Kilburn loop, I had made up the 2 minutes and gained another 5. And, I was feeling great. After getting my last bottle full, I powered up a dirt road and saw in the distance the next runner I would pass. Rob is an old running buddy and when trained up, a very fast dude. He wasn't well trained and he had talked of a 6-hour finish and here I was, running a sub-5hr time and only catching him at mile 26. He, like so many others, had started out too fast and was running a substantially slower pace then I was. I, as it would turn out, had started out a bit slow.<br />
<br />
I soon caught up with the guy in green and he did not look good. He was running without a bottle and now, was sitting on the ground, grabbing at his calf. He had just cramped badly. After asking if he needed anything, I left him behind. There was a rise that slowed me enough that I could take another drink. No cramps here, I thought.<br />
<br />
I was now in the final leg. This was a section where the year before, I had stopped at a steep descent and wondered just how I could possibly get down. I finally grabbed a branch and used this as a 3rd leg to hobble down. Travel time - about 60 seconds. This year, I recognized the descent. I galloped down it, please at how well my quads were standing up to the downhill pounding. Travel time- about 5 seconds. Instead of hobbling off after the descent, I powered away. I was actively pumping my arms and working to snap my legs forward for the next stride. When my feet would touch the ground, I would give little thoughts of "push, push" to get more speed out of them.<br />
<br />
I passed another guy, in black and white, then quickly blew a turn. I went straight, all the pink flags were left. I soon recognized my mistake and counted the seconds until I was back on trail. 25, 26, 27 - on. I figured I'd lost about a minute. If this was what kept me from breaking 5, I figured it would be fine.<br />
<br />
Another runner - oops, the black and white shirt gain. For the second time, I said, "Looking good man," and blew by him. Soon after, I passed my last runner with about 3 miles to go. Later, at the finish, we talked a bit. He said he had remember passing me at about the same place the year before. "You looked in pretty bad shape last year. This year, I was feeling pretty good but you just cooked by me."<br />
<br />
At the last water stop, with 2.3 miles to go, I didn't look at my watch. I was moving fast and began to wonder if there was any possible way that I could be beating my goal by 15 minutes. I figured there probably wasn't, given that I'd blown a turn, but I was still "swinging for the stands," as they say in baseball. The dirt road down became a paved road going up. I had been tricked before by an uphill in the road that I had thought to be the last. Now, I knew there was one more, hidden beyond a turn. <br />
<br />
Knowing I was in the finish, I was going full bore, like the finish of a 10k race. I turned the corner onto the main road, charged into the chute, and let my momentum carry me to a stop. I was a good 10 strides past the chute when I came to a stop, dropped my bottle, and circled back to hand off my tag.<br />
<br />
I lolled around for a minute or two before circling back to the chute to see my time. I was pleased to see not that many names in front of mine and was blown away by my time. In the last 11 miles of running, I had dropped from averaging 9:40 a mile to about 8:05 a mile, making up the 2 minutes I was down and gaining another 15. I had finished in a time of 4 hrs and 45 minutes. In 2010, I had set a PR by 1/2 hr. Again, in 2011, I had done the same. I did not thing this possible.<br />
<br />
In 2010, I had run two races - a solid 20 mile race and a horrible 11 mile. This year, I again ran 2 races. A solid, exactly on pace 20 mile race and very strong 11 mile race. Running those last miles, I was hard pressed to remember that I had already been running for 4 hours, I just felt so strong.<br />
<br />
I could not believe how well I had done. I had spent a year thinking about this race, thinking about what I had to do to race better, and I had done it. I had run a race that was beyond what I had dreamed of and felt great. I walked away from the spectators, tears dripping from my eyes as I half giggled, half sobbed and muttered, "I can't believe I did that, I just don't believe it."<br />
<br />
<br />Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-38696901042638251202011-08-20T10:15:00.000-07:002011-08-20T10:57:19.799-07:00Habitat 5km - August 2011With a throbbing crescendo, the motorcycle cop passed me, zooming off to the next intersection. I was slowly gaining on the one in front of me, the one stationed below the signal, stopping the traffic from coming through their green light. I hesitated for a half a step as I rushed toward the red light then I came back out of my habits and into my life. "Nope," I thought, "I'm gonna' run right through that red light and the cop is going to watch me. This is a race and I'm in the lead."<div>
<br /></div><div>The Habitat 5km was a small local race with about 75 runners. My father volunteers on a weekly basis for a local crew in Buffalo NY so he suggested I do this race. It was an interesting experience for me because he was talking a bit of smack with his co-volunteers in the weeks before the race. "Well, you guys won the Habitat Golf Tournament this spring. My son is going to win the 5km." In the kitchen at my father's house, expectations were running high.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Just last week, I has listened to a podcast talking with Olympic runner Suzy Favor-Hamilton. She had been widely expected to win the 2000 Olympics 1500m race. The pressure ended up being too much for her and on the final 200 meters of the race, she had a panic attack. She slowed considerably and after dropping to 5th place, she faked a fall rather then the embarrassment of a bad finish. Would I be able to take the pressure of the family's expectations?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>That morning, saying good bye to my sister Jennefer, she asked again, half joking, "So, are you gonna' win?"</div><div>
<br /></div><div>At the start line, I looked at other runner's shoes. Nobody wore racing flats. I then talked to a young guy - he was a soccer player just out for a run. He wasn't going out for cross country. "In soccer," he said, "at least I'm running after the ball." I did a couple striders off the front of the assembled runners - nobody else was doing them. All signs were that I had a good shot at giving my dad something to brag about this coming Thursday - his "work" day.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>From the gun (yes, there actually was a gun - unusual for the kind of races I do) I imagined I was at track practice and was going to do an 800m at 85 seconds a lap. I checked my stride and the power I had to put into my arms to maintain form and everything looked good. I felt I was on stride to lay down a few 5:40 miles.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>After a small straight, the course went around a corner and traveled a block. After the 1st block, not only was there nobody near me, I couldn't hear anybody else. I was only me and the motorcycle cops.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>At the first mile, a friendly volunteer shouted out "5:25". I was a little faster then my goal of at least a 17:30 finish was fine since was was hoping to set a new PR. Note, this is a new PR in the last 10 years. While my highschool 5km times were on the cross country course, I will never again be able to go sub-16minutes for a 5km. I was dreaming of going sub-17 again but haven't been focusing on the training for a 5km. I'm really thinking about my upcoming 50km - not much of a speed race.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>By mile 2 I had slowed a bit but still felt strong. The cops kept leap-frogging ahead of me. All I needed to do was following the one in front of me who kept glancing in his rear view mirror. When there was a turn in the course, the guy in front of him would have his white, 2-wheeled steed pointing out which way to go. All along the course were volunteers but with the white steeds, I didn't need their help for directions.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>As I turned onto Southpark street (no association) I began to feel a twing of burn in my legs and the discomfort was climbing. There was an ever-so-slight rise and this was enough to make a cruise speed a bit of work. I looked back for only the second time in the race and saw a regular car far behind me. I knew there was no race to be had for me, which is a big relief when you're late in a race and starting to question why you're running so fast. I reminded myself what I had thought at the start line - run strong and if there's a contest at the end, dig deep the last 1/2 mile.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now, running all alone, I simply wanted to run strong. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>At the distant finish line, I could see the time clock click over to 16 minutes. Judging the gap I needed to cross, I was pretty sure a sub-17 was not in the bag today. Ask I strided out the finish, I hoped for a PR but was greeted with the voice at the finish line saying, 17:24, 17:25, 17:26. "Oh well," I thought, "matching my PR of 17:26 from last year isn't bad."</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Later, waiting for the next runner to come in, I checked the results table and saw they had granted me a 17:25. That, I decided, would be my time. So, a new PR and a pleasant race.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>As I trotted back to my family, we watched the 2nd runner come in. I hadn't realized what kind of a lead I had built until I watched the time - 20:11. I was nearly 3 minutes faster than the next runner. "It was almost embarrassing," my father declared at the end. The race director came up after. She said, "I saw you at the start and I knew you'd be the one."</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The 1st place price was some nice gift certificates to local restaurants. As an out-of-towner, I tried to give them to my dad but they weren't for restaurants he went to. I found a guy with tape measure (the 1st place prize for age-category winners.) He was happy to trade and threw in $10.00 with the deal. Between that and my dad paying the registration fee (thanks!) I think this might be my most lucrative race yet!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>I don't know if I will ever again have the kind of police escort that is normally afforded to presidents and lead runners of international marathons. Still, I will long remember the thrill of having of the helmeted riders surging pass me to make sure no cars interrupted my headlong rush to the finish.</div><div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div></div>Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-75014022220970688752011-06-04T11:13:00.000-07:002011-08-20T11:16:07.135-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; ">Today, Julienne had to go to work (report cards) so the kids and I
<br />went to a local 5km road <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. Since I was pushing the double
<br />stroller, I started in last place (48th place, in this <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>.) Soon,
<br />we got on the road and I got into <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> cruise speed and began passing
<br />people. Skylar was enjoying going "zooming" but Sylvia was less
<br />excited. "I'm tired" she said, and promptly put her head down to
<br />sleep.
<br />
<br />There is a large hill in the middle of the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. We lost a little
<br />ground to the #5 guy on the way up but at the turn, we quickly passed
<br />him. For the downhill, Skylar played an important role. I had
<br />attached a braking mechanism (boards rubbing on the tires) to the
<br />stroller and once we started going fast, I called "brakes!" He pulled
<br />so hard that I called "less brakes!" and we went down the hill, fast
<br />but controlled. At the bottom, we passed the 4th place runner and
<br />settled into a fast cruise speed.
<br />
<br />As we closed in on the finish line, I noticed that we were getting
<br />closer and closer to #2 and #3, who were running close together. We
<br />rounded the school, shot across a dirt path, and were on the running
<br />track behind the school where the finish line was. As we went into
<br />the final turn, we passed the #2 and #3 runners. The woman called out, "I love it when the people with a jogger do well!" Just in case, we put in our final
<br />sprint, not sure if they would fight back and turn on a kick I couldn't match
<br />pushing 100lbs of kids and stroller. Still, I gave it all I had and
<br />crossed the finish line 2 seconds ahead of them.
<br />
<br />While it was <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> slowest 5km <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> either on trails or off since I was a
<br />freshman in high school, we still got second place. On the way there,
<br />Skylar had said, "Will we win?" "No," I had said,. "Are you SURE we
<br />won't win?" I was sure we wouldn't even be in the top 10. So, as one
<br />bystander had said, "that's quite the handicap you got there." I
<br />guess he was right.
<br /></span>Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4019168930797637965.post-63983910614259091802010-09-30T11:16:00.000-07:002011-08-20T11:22:44.965-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;">Eight years ago, I ran a 50 km <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. At the time I was competing in 18 - 20
<br />mile races and figured I'd just ramp up to a longer one. Looking back, I realize
<br />that <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> knowledge about pacing and training was limited. This time
<br />around, I had a clearer sense of what I was undertaking as well as the
<br />kind of preparation required.
<br />
<br />I've made a serious commitment to running this year. Due to <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span>
<br />experiments with just how
<br />much abuse <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> body can take, I can count at least three bouts of
<br />over-training,. Two weeks before
<br />the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>, I pulled the IT muscle on the outside of <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> right leg, an
<br />injury that manifested as knee pain. There I was, thirty minutes into
<br />a run just one week before the big event, when I realized I'd injured
<br />myself. Reluctantly, I trotted the fifteen minutes home and didn't
<br />run for five days. In some ways, this pause could be called a taper.
<br />Psyched as I was about <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> training and anticipating a strong
<br />performance in the 31 mile <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>, now I was wondering if I would be
<br />able to finish. That thirty-five dollar registration fee I'd sent in
<br />three months earlier seemed a poor attempt at motivation.
<br />
<br />Three days before the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> I strapped <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> two year old daughter into a
<br />jogging stroller and managed a slow run, alternating seven minute
<br />runs with five minute stretches. Afterward I felt only minimal
<br />twinges in <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> knee which seemed to go away after self-massage,
<br />wife-massage and
<br />icing. But the final verdict would have to wait until the big day.
<br />
<br />Leading up to the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>, I had wondered about <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pace. In <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> previous
<br />effort at age thirty, I'd finished in 5 hours and 45 minutes. This
<br />would be <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> fourth big <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> this year, so I searched other <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>
<br />results, looking for people who had both run against me this year and
<br />in the Pisgah 50 km <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> the previous year. One of the strongest
<br />women runners in the area finished her
<br />Pisgah <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> a whole hour faster than <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> previous effort. Add to that,
<br />I had beaten her by almost half an hour on a 14 mile <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. I knew I
<br />couldn't keep up with the front guys, but surely I could run with her?
<br />
<br />I decided to be conservative. I prepared a small pacing chart based on
<br />the times to the water and aid stations. Since the woman had completed her <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>
<br />the previous year in 4 hours 45 minutes, I built <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pacing chart
<br />around a five hour finish time. It's said that going out too fast is
<br />one of the worst sins when running long races. I was not guilty of
<br />that
<br />particular sin this year, but I had plenty of previous experience. If
<br />I stuck to <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pacing chart for the first two hours, I calculated that
<br />that would be enough to get me through the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> in fine fashion.
<br />
<br />Well stretched and with <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> knee pre-iced, I lined up with the other
<br />contestants. I knew there'd be a lot of people running ahead of me
<br />for the first mile and a
<br />half. For this interval, the two races, 25 km (15 mile) and 50 km
<br />(31 mile) share the same course. After that, the field in front of
<br />me would thin considerably. Surveying the other racers at the start, I tried
<br />to pick out guys I knew would beat me. Trail running has become
<br />more popular since I started, at least among the fastest runners. A
<br />time that earned me sixth place back in 2002 would, in 2009,
<br />earn me 20th place. Later I learned that a 5:45 in 2010 would have
<br />awarded me 37th place!
<br />
<br />When it was time to start, an elderly gentlemen simply said, "Go!" I
<br />didn't hear
<br />him. Then, after finding myself running, I realized I hadn't started
<br /><span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> stop watch, a much easier way of watching <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pacing chart -
<br />attached to <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> watch band - than converting from the 8:45 am start to
<br />elapsed time on the course. After talking with several runners, I
<br />started <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> timer about four minutes into the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. Now, I only had a
<br />conversion of adding four minutes.
<br />
<br />I started slowly. The group ahead of me was intimidatingly large. In
<br />previous races, I had planned to start somewhere between 10th and 20th
<br />place. Here I was in 40th place and not liking it. I remembered reading about
<br />one man's experience in a 50 km <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. He reached
<br />the top of one of the early hills in 30th place only to have his son,
<br />standing alongside, call out, "What's wrong, dad?" "Nothing,"
<br />he said. "They all started out too fast." He finished in 2nd place.
<br />
<br />I wasn't aiming for second, but I wanted to finish strongly while
<br />holding a good pace throughout. We passed the first mile marking I had
<br />written down - the split of the races at 1.7 miles. At <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> expected
<br />pace, 9:40 per mile, I would reach this point at a little under
<br />17 minutes. I was 14 minutes into the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> as we took the left where a
<br />sign read "50 km." Out loud I told myself to slow down, but
<br />inside, I convinced myself that, since I felt so good, maybe the map was wrong.
<br />Just how accurately would they have measured this muddy junction in the woods?
<br />
<br />At about two miles, I caught up to a woman with gels pinned to her
<br />fuel belt. It seemed a strange choice, but, let's face it, any woman
<br />running this pace knows much more about running this type of <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> than
<br />I do. We chatted a bit; she was running to get ready for a road
<br />marathon in three weeks.
<br />Hearing about her previous 2:57 marathon effort in Hartford, I was
<br />impressed and told her so.
<br />Here was another clue to how I was doing with <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pace, a clue I
<br />ignored. After running with her for maybe a mile, I passed and moved
<br />on ahead. This would later prove to be the decisive moment when I
<br />could have run the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> I wanted to instead of the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> I did.
<br />
<br />At the first aid station at 8.7 miles, I was pretty close to <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span>
<br />expected pace. Only later would I realize that <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pacing chart didn't
<br />account for the hilly sections in the middle of the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. Now I came
<br />zipping into the aid station with the top
<br />off <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> empty water bottle and <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> empty zip lock bag (apple slices
<br />already eaten.) I quickly filled the water and grabbed some fig
<br />newtons and headed off. I passed two people dawdling at the aid
<br />station and felt good about <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> own strategy. Like a good triathlete, I
<br />knew that transitions and aid stations were time spent not moving
<br />forward; the less time at them, the better.
<br />
<br />Around mile 15, I caught up to Amy Lane, the woman on whose times I had based <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span>
<br />pacing chart. I had been running with Keith Schmidt, a friendly guy
<br />I've known since I took up this sport. His brother, who often wins
<br />races of this type, is always content to be
<br />in the top ten. Usually, he beats me. So when I caught up to him, I
<br />decided to hold back and see how it would go. He said he was hoping
<br />to run a nice easy pace, like a 4:30. Oops, I
<br />thought, that’s too fast. I ignored this data for two reasons. First,
<br />I still felt good and second, he’s such a nice guy to chat with that I
<br />didn’t want to drop back. So much for the scientific approach!
<br />
<br />Keith and I settled in behind Amy. She let it be known that she was
<br />going for the course
<br />record, set ten years before. Her plan was 4 hours and 35 minutes, a
<br />solid 30 minutes faster than <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> goal. In her opinion, backed by at
<br />least twice as many weekly miles as I run, she felt she was on pace to
<br />do that. Now, I was running
<br />with two experienced runners, both feeling good about a pace I was
<br />pretty sure I couldn’t hold. More information that I was not running <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>!
<br />
<br />Continuing in the spirit of "<span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> body feels good, I should keep the
<br />wind whistling in <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> ears," I passed Amy and Keith on a downhill,
<br />saying I wanted to roll it out a little more. This was at
<br />about mile 19. We hit a rise soon after and I let the two of them go
<br />ahead. I knew I was in trouble. I said <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> good byes and watched them
<br />charge ahead. Only as <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> new reality hit did I see just how fast we
<br />had been moving. Less than 30 seconds later,
<br />I couldn't see them and could not imagine ever running that fast.
<br />God, I thought, how can they do it?
<br />
<br />As I tell it, I had a good 20 mile <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. Unfortunately, there were
<br />still 11 miles to go. Now, for the rest of the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">story</span>. As <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> speed
<br />slowed, <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> right knee held up. Instead, <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span>
<br />left knee, symptom-free the whole season, began protesting. And it
<br />wasn't alone. I had, it seemed,
<br />depleted <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> glycogen stores. Bonked, as they say. This surprised me;
<br />I had prepared by eating and drinking regularly and taking some solid
<br />long runs.
<br />
<br />It later turned out that Amy and Keith finished in female record time of 4 hour 33 minutes, a good 15 minutes faster then the fastest I could expect to finish the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. Where I had planned on running each mile in 9 minutes and 40 seconds, they ran 8:40 miles. So by the time we caught Amy, I was running 20 minutes faster then I should have been.
<br />
<br />To watch a struggling runner must be laughable. As one guy passed me, he said, "When you see someone walking with their head lolling to the side, it's not good." I found myself encouraging myself to start running at some predetermined tree. "Oops, you just walked past that tree. OK, this next one, that's the tree to start running at."
<br />
<br />In <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> slowed, enfeebled pace, a pain cropped up that was different from any previous run. While dressing, I had debated whether to wear a shirt or not for the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>; decisions like this can make a big difference in a five hour <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>.
<br />Except when deer flies are fierce, they fly faster than I can run, so I usually run without a
<br />shirt. Now, I was feeling the skin of <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> upper arm rub against <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my </span>chest. The dried sweat acted like glue, repeatedly grabbing then pulling at <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> skin as I ran. I wrapped some duct tape around myself, then
<br />reinforced that with pink plastic trail marker ribbon to increase the effect of the tape’s stickiness. The pain of chafing was slightly reduced, a minor success.
<br />
<br />After about one hour struggling to jog, a bit of energy reappeared. I
<br />began to trot, but not for long. The trail's smooth dirt turned to
<br />rocks; I had to walk to have any precision control over <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> legs.
<br />About this time, though I'd been hoping for a traveled road where I
<br />could hitch a ride back,
<br />I discovered that if I deep-breathed, <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> body let me increase the
<br />speed of <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> shuffle to a slight jog. As <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pace increase slightly, I
<br />began to sweat and then realized the real cause of the
<br />chaffing - no natural armpit lubricant!
<br />
<br />About three and a half hours into the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>, I realized that all
<br />was not lost. Even though I was having trouble walking and felt the
<br />weight of gravity – and people were passing me like they were in their
<br />final kick of a 5km <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> - I saw a glimmer. Glancing at <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pacing
<br />chart, it occurred to me that, if I got to the next aid station in
<br />less than 30 minutes, I might be able to beat <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> personal time. Of
<br />all the races I'd done this year, it would be <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span>
<br />first Pr (personal record). At least one minute faster than eight years
<br />ago, I told myself, that should be enough.
<br />
<br />When I approached the last aid station, a man with the clip board
<br />called out, “Number 5, we were wondering where you were!” The course
<br />has a loop around this lake and we pass this same aid station at mile
<br />18 and mile 25. Here he was, reminding me of how badly I’d done for
<br />the past seven miles. I did not feel encouraged. As an attempt to
<br />pick myself up, I asked the man about the quickest way back to the
<br />start. He pointed up the trail, the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> course. Now I knew - the
<br />only way home was to finish, to complete what I'd started. Slowly,
<br />shuffling under the watchful
<br />eyes of all those at the station, I made <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> way up the hill.
<br />
<br />At this point, I had six miles to go. I knew I was going to feel
<br />every step. But I also knew that at <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> current reduced, but not
<br />totally debilitated pace, I was likely to exceed <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> previous time by a
<br />meaningful margin. Running <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> own <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>, I began to feel encouraged.
<br />Even as people passed me, I didn’t mind. I’d stopped thinking about
<br />what place I would finish, but was heartened to note that I was being
<br />passed much more
<br />slowly. One man passed slowly enough that I had a chance to chat, not
<br />simply call encouragements to his receding backside. Now I knew I was
<br />almost in <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> finishing position in the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>.
<br />
<br />I scanned ahead at every turn for a glimpse of the final water stop, a
<br />couple of jugs
<br />of water by the trail marking 28.7 miles. From there, it was dirt and
<br />paved roads to the finish. Every turn I anticipated seeing the water
<br />jugs by a forest gate. Every
<br />opening or thinning of the trees made me think we were closing in on
<br />civilization. Finally, I thought, “This had got to be it.” But, no,
<br />beyond was the last nasty downhill. "You have got to be kidding me,"
<br />I called out loud as I came to an abrupt stop at the crest of this
<br />totally unnecessary descent. Speaking aloud was nothing new as I had
<br />become
<br /><span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> own band leader and excessively verbal coach for some time.
<br />What was new was me stopping, staring, and wondering.
<br />
<br /><span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">My</span> left knee had been giving me problems for some time and what had
<br />simply been pain was building to the point where it was threatening to
<br />lock up on downhills. Now, standing at the top of this drop off, I
<br />contemplated walking backwards down the hill. Too long of a hill, I
<br />decided, much too long. Instead, I cast around, groaned as I bent
<br />over, and picked up a stout stick. Using this walking pole, I hobbled
<br />down the hill, the stick standing in for <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> left knee. Reaching the
<br />relative flatness of the bottom, I cast the stick aside and took off
<br />running. I need to trail more on downhills, I thought; I feel pretty good on
<br />the flats. Gotta do something to get <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> quads stronger.
<br />
<br />Then, almost comically, I saw the long-anticipated water jugs. It
<br />seemed they were pulling a prank
<br />to actually show up, there, next to be base of the gate. That, and
<br />the thinning of the trees I'd expected would herald them, only showed
<br />after I’d passed them. I gave them a glance in greeting and strode
<br />on.
<br />
<br />Over <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> shoulder, I saw a man and woman coming up behind. They were
<br />maybe 20 seconds back. Suddenly, I felt that I was in a <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> again.
<br />Hey, this is <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> finishing place. You two can’t have it.
<br />
<br />I took off. When I describe this moment, it comes off as
<br />a whole new <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>. I lengthened <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> stride, picked up <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> cadence, and
<br />started flying. The dirt road morphed into pavement and
<br />still I charged along. <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">My</span> body was giving me all the energy I wanted,
<br /><span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> quads were happy because there were no rocks to navigate. I was
<br />happy because the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> was almost done.
<br />
<br />I passed Amy doing her cool down. “Did you get it?” I called out.
<br />“Yeah!” she said. I was moving so fast, her answer needed to catch up
<br />to me as I headed away. The finish line was ahead of me and then one
<br />of the volunteers called out, “You can stop running now.” I was so
<br />focused on not slowing before crossing the finish that I was still in
<br />motion after the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> was done.
<br />
<br />Stiff, achy and hungry, but pleased with <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> efforts, I knew I hadn't
<br />run a smart <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span>.
<br />But I did finish in 5 hours 14 minutes, taking a whole half hour off
<br /><span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> personal best. Later, looking at the results, I noted that the
<br />female 2:57 Rhode Island marathoner, Karen, had finished in 4 hours 41
<br />minutes, only eight minutes behind the first female. Even if I had
<br />slowed to run with her, I still would have been going too fast. Only
<br />then did I realize <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> original pacing mistake.
<br />Women, like older men, get stronger as the <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> gets longer.
<br />Trying to gauge <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> fitness for a 31 mile <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> by comparing myself to a
<br />female on a 15 mile <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> was simply naive.
<br />
<br />Next year, or some year after that, I hope to do better. There is no
<br />hurry; the winner was 46 years old. And two guys ten years <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> elder
<br />beat me badly. I’ll plan <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">my</span> pacing and take it easier at the
<br />beginning. I won't over train and will observe the hard/easy rule of
<br />injury prevention. I’ll listen to the pacing evidence I get from the
<br />people around me
<br />and not pass runners at mile 15 who are clearly stronger than me.
<br />Finally, I’ll remember what that guy said, the one whom I passed at
<br />the eight mile aid
<br />station, and who passed me back at mile 21 when I could barely
<br />walk. “The <span class="il" style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(84, 133, 189); color: rgb(255, 255, 255); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">race</span> doesn’t start until after mile 20.”</span>Guillaume Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08485957429143344348noreply@blogger.com0