I flew to Germany on October 10th (and landed the 11th), and was met at the airport by my wonderful running partner, Cece, and her adorable children. On the 12th we caravaned with other local runners from her village of Zemmer to the city of Cologne. Saturday the 12th was long and more stressful than any of us would have liked, I think. Traffic was heavy and it was a challenge to find the race expo, because roads were already being closed down in anticipation of the race. When we found the expo it was less overwhelming than I'd feared. We actually didn't have to wait in line at all to get our race bags, which included fun snacks, small boxes of pasta, commemorative beer glasses, and lots of literature that was unfortunately in German so I have no idea what it said. When we eventually made it to our hotel it was a relief. A friend of Cece's had prepared dinner which we reheated in our suite- a brilliant plan, because it gave us the carbs we needed plus the confidence that we weren't going to eat some restaurant-food-gone-bad and cause disaster on the race course.
October 13, 2013: Race day!
The race was at 11:30 AM- because I trained in Florida in the summer I hadn't done any practice runs at that time, and as a result I don't think I ate enough in the morning. I had my typical long-run breakfast but it was hours before the run actually began, and by the time we were done running I joked that we'd basically had "Gu and a marathon for lunch". We passed the nervous hours playing with Cece's boys and going to cheer for the half-marathoners whose course ran near our hotel.
I went back and forth a lot about my race outfit- it was not raining but it was grey and overcast, with temperatures hovering around 50 degrees. At the last minute I swapped a tanktop + long-sleeve layer for a t-shirt + long-sleeve layer, plus shorts and compression sleeves. This was an agonizing decision to make but in the end it was the right one, for which I was grateful!!
We left the hotel around 10:50 and walked about a kilometer to the starting line. The start was very, very crowded, and it took long minutes of walkwaddleshuffling to make it to the staging area that matched our bibs. Red and Orange groups went before us, and we found space in the back of the corral between the Yellow and Green groups to hang out, stretch, and bounce nervously to German techno music. I cued up my Garmin and my GPS-camera, and the announcer counted down (in German!) to start the race!! We crossed the starting line about 8 minutes after the race began.
My job was to wear the Garmin and keep Cece on pace. Our goal was to enjoy the race, to smile throughout, and to finish happy. The plan was to run just under 11:00 miles for the first few miles of the race, but as we settled into a pace Cece was running closer to 10:40 and felt good there, so we just settled in there. In the beginning the biggest challenge was to run our race, and not pick up speed when people went past us. We saw her boys and their babysitter right around mile 1- a great boost- and Cece grabbed her iPod and I dropped off my long-sleeve shirt, committing to run the rest of the race in short sleeves.
The first 10 miles were very peaceful, easy to run and we had to focus to rein ourselves in and stay right around that 10:30 mark. We had our first Gus while running at Mile 5, and then second Gu and a brief walk break at Mile 10. After that we kept on going, but I think it got a lot harder to stay on track and the miles seemed a lot longer. We made race-friends with a German girl from Dusseldorf, who had heard us talking about how we felt good and wanting to keep feeling good and having fun and said that was her plan too :-)
We saw two of Cece's friends who were ahead of us during points when the course doubled back on itself, which was very fun. As we approached the halfway mark, we also saw what I believe were the first two women of the race- since we crossed the halfway mark around 2:16 and the fastest woman finished in 2:28, they were literally running twice as fast as we were!!! At the halfway mark I looked at CeCe and said "Okay, ready to do it again?" and we tried to shake off the last 13.1 miles. She said "It's all downhill from here!" and we continued on.
I had an extremely enjoyable time running. We stuck together, sometimes with me slightly ahead as a "rabbit", especially in a few patches where we fell off pace and I wanted to try to encourage her to stay on it instead of letting herself slow down and stay at a slower pace. Cece was right on pace up until around Mile 16, where she hit a wall and was fighting very hard to keep going. We took a walk break with our Gu there and it was hard to start running again. The girl's a rock star, though- every time I told her "if you pick it up now, you can get to where you want" she pulled back in and clawed back to the pace she wanted to be running.
We knew that from 30-35 km there was a steady drop in the course, and from 35-40 was a net uphill. When we hit 30 I encouraged her to kick it up but I think at that point "kick" was a mythical beast. I also realized that what looked like a nice downhill stretch on the elevation map wasn't actually a noticeable drop, so our dreams of running a killer 5k at that point were more about moving forward. By that point my hip flexors were protesting with every step I took, and while I knew I'd be able to finish I was also fantasizing about sitting down.
In the 30-35 km stretch we also picked up one of Cece's friends, who had pulled a muscle earlier in the race and was more interested in having company than running hard. It was fun to add to our little group. One thing I really appreciated about my race experience was that I did not feel lonely at all- because I had a friend right there with me! Someone to point out cute dogs too, or marvel at beautiful architecture, or just grimace at- it made a huge difference in the hours of running.
Once we'd picked up our 3rd member, I stopped worrying about pacing at all and focused on encouraging them both to keep moving. When we stopped for our last Gu I could looked at Cece and said "I know you don't feel like it but I'm telling you, you still have a run in you. So just trust me and try to find it!" and she did! Once we got into the last 5k of the race there was a definite sense of relief, and the crowd support picked up dramatically. I think it made the last painful miles better. It was also really encouraging to see how our pacing strategy had worked out quite nicely. The last 2 miles were right back on pace, and we were steadily passing people for that whole stretch. A lot of those people were super-fit men with Red bib numbers; Tortoise and the Hare, anyone?
With about a mile and a half to go we came around a corner to a band playing the opening riff to "Sweet Home Alabama". It was fantastic. I was thrilled to finally hear a song I knew the words too- there were lots of drumming groups and individuals blasting music along the route, but most of the music was German techno/pop and while the beats were nice, I had no idea what the songs were (on a related note, I also couldn't read any of the encouraging signs people were holding for their family members, which was very odd and sort of disappointing. I like to be distracted and have things to ponder as I ran so I tried to guess what they said, but mostly came up with nonsensical sentences based on cognates that don't actually exist).
Anyway- with "Sweet Home Alabama" ringing in my ears, I also noticed that the course was very familiar because we were in the stretch where we'd seen the leaders, hours before. The end was coming! I let Cece and her friend know when we had 1 mile remaining- that's a huge relief after running 25 of them. 1 mile is so manageable! I watched the tenths tick by and when we had just 0.2 left to go, according to my Garmin, I excitedly announced it and watched Cece kick it into an awesomely high gear. She passed people like crazy and I tried to lead her around silly slow walkers as best I could. Unfortunately, I think all the twists and turns through narrow streets tricked my Garmin, and so what I thought was only 0.2 miles left to go was actually 0.5 miles left to go! Every time we went around a corner I strained to see a finish line, and was repeatedly dismayed when I saw nothing. The Germans like to put big inflatable archways over the routes, so there were a bunch of those with different companies' logos (BMW, K2 skates, etc.) which looked like finish lines but weren't actually the end. Finally, though, we saw the actual end in sight, and charged across it. An announcer said our names in an excited German sentence, and we kind of all collapsed into a sweaty exhausted hug. Our final time was 4:41:33, and my Garmin said the last 0.47 miles we were running sub-9:00. A seriously fantastic kick for some tired ladies!
We took some happy pictures, and then got our medals. I was pleased not to be crying hysterically like I had been at the end of my first marathon. I was tired, and I was ready to stop running, but I could also tell that all my hard training over the summer had paid off. My goal had been to train hard enough that I could pace Cece through her race and have energy left over for encouraging and doing the thinking when she was exhausted, and I think I accomplished it. I kept track of splits, threw out the trash, and felt decent at the end despite having run a marathon. That was exactly what I'd wanted, and I'm nothing but pleased with it!!
Post-race, I had some yummy donuts and fresh breads, a bite of rather disgusting summer sausage (don't know why I tried that, since I know I don't like summer sausage), and a few sips of "alkoholfrei" beer which I discarded as soon as I found the regular, alkohol-full beer. We found the rest of our group, and then made our way back through a maze of streets to the hotel. This allowed us to walk right past the Cologne Cathedral, which we'd somehow completely missed as we ran past it. I got some fun pictures in front of it.
Then back to the hotel for a shower and then I went out with the babysitter for a German dinner and more beer, which I was really looking forward to. Cece curled up with her boys and I think that was all she needed to relax. I had a yummy dish of noodles with chicken, pork, and roasted tomatoes, and another good local beer. Then we loaded up the car and drove back to Zemmer, where everyone slept like a rock in their own beds.
Gear:
I ran the race in compression sleeves. I'm not totally sure I'd do that again; my calves were sort of twinging after 20 miles or so. I might try compression socks for a few long runs and see how that goes. I love compression sleeves post-long run but I didn't like the way my muscles felt towards the end (although I'm not certain that was because of the sleeves).
The Route:
The beginning of the course followed the Rhine River. After we left the river we made lots of little out-and-backs and lollipops through different parts of the city. I really feel like I got a good sense of what Cologne is like, and felt very strongly that I was running through Europe. The buildings and signs were exactly what I would have expected. We passed a lot of beautiful churches, and some open park-like areas. We paralleled train tracks in a few different locations, but never had to cross any. The race finished back in the center of the city, including the last curves going past the Cologne Cathedral (the Dom). It was beautiful. Elevation change was barely noticeable throughout. We'd studied the elevation profile but even in places where we expected uphill and downhill segments, it wasn't much and didn't have too much impact on our pace except for one uphill climb near the end of the route. I tried to take a picture at least every mile, so I have the race wonderfully documented.
The weather:
It was close to perfect. The sun peeked out a few times but mostly it was grey and overcast. There were a few times where the wind gusted rather unpleasantly, but there were enough twists and turns in the route that we were never running into the wind for too long. As soon as I stopped running I was FREEZING and it took me a long time to warm up even after we were back in the hotel, but I'd rather have been comfortable running and cold afterwards than uncomfortable while running!
Now I know for next time:
My awesome GPS camera really does suck the battery as the GPS is on, but also takes wonderful pictures and was great to have on me.
Last-minute outfit changes sometimes end really well. Running a marathon in running shorts, even if it's "chilly" out, is very comfortable, but those shorts plus my Camelbak pack ride up awkwardly after a while.
Pre-emptive Gu at the end of a marathon is a great plan.
When the route is terribly sticky from electrolytes being spilled, a brief foot-shuffle in the grass on the roadside solves the problem, although it also gets me strange looks from bystanders.
The Runner's World Run Less-Run Faster plan was a great training plan, especially because biking as cross-training was great during the sticky-awful-hot summer.
Running a marathon at a pace slower than what I've trained for is really
fun; without the mental push and my muscles at their limit, I had a
huge smile on my face and time to take it all in.
Special thanks to Cece for letting me be a part of her wonderful day.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
Livestrong Austin Marathon 2013: Race Report
*Note: I'm not about to start blogging regularly- but I thought I should write this up, for friends/family/random strangers who are googling race reports.*
*Note 2: This is ridiculously long and detailed.
February 17, 2013: Race day! My prep for this marathon was relatively strict adherence to the Hanson's Marathon Method training plan, with a few nearly-fatal flaws, namely, that there are no hills in FL where I trained, and that I pulled a calf muscle 3.5 weeks before the race and had to sit out 2+ weeks of training as a result.
My training runs were aiming for an 8:15-8:20 race pace. My initial goal was a 3:45 marathon, figuring that the hills would slow me down some. After the calf debacle, however, I got to the starting line covered with bright blue Kinesiology Tape and figuring that finishing at all would be an amazing blessing. So I ended up with an A goal of 3:45, a B goal of 4:00, and a C goal of "finishing the full instead of the half".
I got to the very crowded start line about 5 minutes before the race began, and managed to get into the 3:50 starting area. I never saw the 3:50 pace group, or the 3:45 pace group for that matter.
The first mile was stupidly crowded. I had anticipated this and was carrying water so I could skip the first few water stops, but wasn't anticipating having people WALKING in front of me (if you are planning on walking within the first 1/2 mile of a race, please don't start in front of me. Or in front of anyone else) and strollers (I hope they got asked to leave!). Other than those hurdles, however, the crowd moved pretty well, and after the first 2 miles everyone seemed pretty settled.
I saw my amazing cheerleaders around mile 3, where they whooped and hollered and clapped and then, I was gone! The first 5-6 miles were very hilly. I maintained a pretty good pace. I had kept it closer to 9:00 for the first 5k and then tried to settle into something closer to 8:40. However, after an almost fully down-hill mile I realized that my quads were definitely going to be the limiting factor for the race.
At mile 8 I stopped and passed my long-sleeve layer to my amazing cheerleaders (I think Nora hopped up and down every time she saw me), and also ditched my heart rate monitor strap, again, because I knew my heart rate was not going to be my limiting factor.
Probably my favorite moment of the race was the turn after the second bridge as we ran through Downtown Austin- there was a slight uphill, the crowds were 3-4 deep and SCREAMING, and I couldn't stop grinning. That crowd support was immediately followed by the "Livestrong Mile", another uphill, high-energy dose of encouragement. The next bit of the course was a climb up what I think was a highway ramp, and then down and under an over-pass. I was so taken in by the course that I totally missed the 10 mile mark (I was planning on having Gu every 5 miles) and ended up taking my second one somewhere between 10 and 11 when I realized where I was on the course. A few more miles, and then, the split!
The half-marathoners went right and the rest of us went left- I stared at the immense crowd of people going right, said a prayer that I'd be able to get through the second half of the race, and turned left. Immediately the course felt very lonely. A very small proportion of the runners were full marathoners, as it turned out. There were still people periodically cheering, and some very well-staffed water stops, but the ambient energy level dropped and the race became a very solitary endeavor. At the 13.1 mark my time was 1:55- still very successfully keeping my pace under 9:00 for every mile- but I was beginning to feel my quads in a rather unhappy way.
The next few miles were much the same, and by mile 16 I was DRAGGING. My splits show that I didn't slow down much, but maintaining a sub-9:00 pace felt extremely difficult. This was when I realized that the Hanson's plan was probably not my best choice for my first marathon. The longest run in there was 16 miles, and the last time I ran over 20 miles was 2009. So instead of feeling mentally ready for the rest of the race, all I could do was picture the Hancock Canal Run and think "I have to start THAT? right NOW?"
I pulled out my trusty companion, my iPod, and fired up one of my favorite pump-up songs: The Fighter- which I listened to twice through in mile 18, which in my mind become my "Jon Orozco mile".
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life 'til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes the fighter, there goes the fighter
Here comes the fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me,
This one's a fighter
- Gym Class Heroes, "The Fighter"
All songs come to an end, however, and I was still only at mile 19, and dragging. I don't think I hit the wall, so much as that I hit a point where my quads were shredded and yet I wasn't letting them rest. I was, however, incredibly grateful for every step I took, because I truly believe God answered the many prayers to hold my calf together for that race. All of the leg pain was in my ill-prepared quads, never my calves! Somewhere in there I tore off the pace bracelets I was wearing- math seemed too hard, and just finishing sounded like a more reasonable goal.
~~Special thanks here to the woman who was sitting in her driveway when the nozzle on one of my Fuel Belt bottles broke. I was beyond thinking about small motor skills, but she very helpfully unscrewed a good lid from an empty bottle and replaced the broken lid from my full bottle. Thanks, random stranger!~~
The miles continued... Somewhere around mile 20 I also started feeling like the act of navigating a water stop was too difficult to undertake, and gradual dehydration in the last few miles certainly didn't help. I did some math and realized that if I ran 6 10:00 miles I could finish under 4 hours (although I was aware I had to do slightly better than 10:00 because of that darn 0.2 at the end). Two girls had hopped onto the course to pace a friend and I tucked in with them and ran 2 miles closer to 9:00. They were great support, cheering me on, helping me get my last Gu packet out of my awkward zippered pocket, and helping me up the last hill. I slowed down enough to lose them, however, and then it was just me in my head. The last 6 miles are a net downhill, but at this point my quads were no happier about that than the uphills, and my splits do not reflect a happy downhill ride in to the finish line!
Right around mile 22 the 3:55 pace group overtook me. This was the first pace group I'd seen, and I tried to stick with them. Since they must have started after me I knew that meant I was on track for slightly higher than a 3:55 finish even if I did finish with them. Around mile 24 I saw Mat and Nora, with a sign and more jumping up and down. Nora ran onto the course and asked "Do you want your last Gu?", to which I replied "No, I want a finish line", sparking some laughter around me. Looking back, I should've taken the Gu, but at the time the thought of swallowing sugar-gel - perhaps even procuring water to go with it- sounded overly difficult. At this point my pace was over 9:00, for sure.
Shortly thereafter a gust of wind blew my hat off, forcing me to stop, turn around, walk back, bend over, put it back on my head, and use what was my last burst of energy to try to recatch the sparkly angel wings of the 3:55 pacers. I couldn't stick with them for long, but the amazing Leslie hopped on at that point to accompany me for the last mile and change.
I am still in awe at how much a difference it made to have her there!! She was encouraging and entertaining, carrying my Fuel Belt and iPod for me, filling up my water bottle, and adding things about marathons to Psalms to keep my mind occupied. We quoted verses on top of each other, prayed out loud, and she kept me going while I questioned my strength. I know it was only the last mile, but that was a looong mile.
We passed the final water stop and I realized some sadistic route planner had decided to add one last giant hill, starting around the 800-m-to-go mark. I came to the unhappy conclusion that I could literally walk faster than the awkward, painful run-shuffle I had been reduced to, so for the first time in the race, I stopped trying to run. Instead I did what I thought was power-walking up that hill, resulting in a series of incredibly awkward race photos reflecting expressions of pain, grit, and dismay. Most of that walk came out of my arms, so my biceps and triceps were also incredibly sore the next day. The "400 m to go" sign was at the top of the hill and I decided I was going to start running when I got there.
Around that point a few things happened. The hill ended and a downhill slope began, the route turned a corner, and a nice man very politely called Leslie off the course because the last bit was fenced off and she wasn't allowed to cross the finish line. She went off and I turned the corner, picking up my pace and hearing her faintly call "Go, Nan, Go!" through the fenceline.
Usually I have quite a kick at the end of a race. Not so much this time around, but I had the strength to run downhill and turn and suddenly there was the finish line in front of me! I knew I had started when the clock said 5 minutes, and as I approached the line I saw that the time was around 4:02:XX. That was the point when I realized that despite all the awfulness of the last few miles, I had actually done it and I was going to get in under 4 hours. Hooray! I can't say I was excited so much as relieved. Relieved to have done it, relieved to have accomplished what had become my goal, relieved that my calves had survived, my prayers had been answered, and then, suddenly, just relieved that I could stop running.
I ended in quite a daze. I started kind of stumble-walking, trying to breathe deeply. I think my body was trying to figure out how much it could shut down, and my breathing was really shallow and fast- note to self: breathing is NOT OPTIONAL. I was trying not to cry because that seemed like a lot of work, and then I saw the people handing out the medals.
Now, I really like medals. I like decorating my house with them. This time, though, the medal actually felt like an award I had earned, not just a bonus for running. I had seen people walking around with their medals as I was powering up that last hill, and the thought of getting that medal made me push up the hill. When I realized that all I had left to do was walk up to the lady and she would give me the medal I had earned, I lost it. I walked up to her sobbing, and she said "Oh, honey!" and gave me a hug. She asked if I was okay and I said yes, and then she put a big shiny medal around my neck. Mission accomplished. 26.2 in 3:58:09.
The rest of the day was a glorious denouement of hydration and proteination, finding my amazing cheerleaders, calling my husband who had been tracking me on the race app all morning, turning stretching into a group project, a shower, and an amazing Austin-y lunch featuring a lot of cheese and a chocolate almond torte.
The race was overall quite nice- great expo, great crowd support in the downtown area, beautiful starting set-up at the Capitol building, and awesome shirt and medal. The hills were brutal, and definitely I should've taken them more fully into consideration than I did when training and setting goals.
Did I start too fast? Maybe. I couldn't have known that, though. I was trying to trust my training, and in theory I was trained to run 8:30-or-so miles. On a flatter course I think I could've finished closer to 3:45 or 3:50. The pain in my quads was what eventually slowed me down. That said, next time around I think I will be a bit more conservative at the beginning and drop my pace more gradually.
The hardest part for me was that there were so many miles when I was unhappy- not enjoying the course, not enjoying the fact that I was running, not enjoying the beautiful weather. One of my top goals for my next marathon is to find a balance of different training and different goals (maybe a flatter course, too) so that I more fully enjoy the experience- and enjoy the pain- rather than feeling miserable and defeated.
Now I know for next time:
When drinking and taking Gu sound "too hard", they are becoming more and more important and should be done!!!
Hanson's plan made me faster, but didn't prepare me mentally for the full 26.2 I would definitely recommend it for runners who already have experience with the distance and the associated mental battle. I'll probably revisit it in the future.
Having a pacer at the end (on a course that allows it) is awesome.
Training in the flatlands for a hilly marathon is naive insanity.
Marathons are fun.
*Note 2: This is ridiculously long and detailed.
February 17, 2013: Race day! My prep for this marathon was relatively strict adherence to the Hanson's Marathon Method training plan, with a few nearly-fatal flaws, namely, that there are no hills in FL where I trained, and that I pulled a calf muscle 3.5 weeks before the race and had to sit out 2+ weeks of training as a result.
My training runs were aiming for an 8:15-8:20 race pace. My initial goal was a 3:45 marathon, figuring that the hills would slow me down some. After the calf debacle, however, I got to the starting line covered with bright blue Kinesiology Tape and figuring that finishing at all would be an amazing blessing. So I ended up with an A goal of 3:45, a B goal of 4:00, and a C goal of "finishing the full instead of the half".
I got to the very crowded start line about 5 minutes before the race began, and managed to get into the 3:50 starting area. I never saw the 3:50 pace group, or the 3:45 pace group for that matter.
The first mile was stupidly crowded. I had anticipated this and was carrying water so I could skip the first few water stops, but wasn't anticipating having people WALKING in front of me (if you are planning on walking within the first 1/2 mile of a race, please don't start in front of me. Or in front of anyone else) and strollers (I hope they got asked to leave!). Other than those hurdles, however, the crowd moved pretty well, and after the first 2 miles everyone seemed pretty settled.
I saw my amazing cheerleaders around mile 3, where they whooped and hollered and clapped and then, I was gone! The first 5-6 miles were very hilly. I maintained a pretty good pace. I had kept it closer to 9:00 for the first 5k and then tried to settle into something closer to 8:40. However, after an almost fully down-hill mile I realized that my quads were definitely going to be the limiting factor for the race.
At mile 8 I stopped and passed my long-sleeve layer to my amazing cheerleaders (I think Nora hopped up and down every time she saw me), and also ditched my heart rate monitor strap, again, because I knew my heart rate was not going to be my limiting factor.
Probably my favorite moment of the race was the turn after the second bridge as we ran through Downtown Austin- there was a slight uphill, the crowds were 3-4 deep and SCREAMING, and I couldn't stop grinning. That crowd support was immediately followed by the "Livestrong Mile", another uphill, high-energy dose of encouragement. The next bit of the course was a climb up what I think was a highway ramp, and then down and under an over-pass. I was so taken in by the course that I totally missed the 10 mile mark (I was planning on having Gu every 5 miles) and ended up taking my second one somewhere between 10 and 11 when I realized where I was on the course. A few more miles, and then, the split!
The half-marathoners went right and the rest of us went left- I stared at the immense crowd of people going right, said a prayer that I'd be able to get through the second half of the race, and turned left. Immediately the course felt very lonely. A very small proportion of the runners were full marathoners, as it turned out. There were still people periodically cheering, and some very well-staffed water stops, but the ambient energy level dropped and the race became a very solitary endeavor. At the 13.1 mark my time was 1:55- still very successfully keeping my pace under 9:00 for every mile- but I was beginning to feel my quads in a rather unhappy way.
The next few miles were much the same, and by mile 16 I was DRAGGING. My splits show that I didn't slow down much, but maintaining a sub-9:00 pace felt extremely difficult. This was when I realized that the Hanson's plan was probably not my best choice for my first marathon. The longest run in there was 16 miles, and the last time I ran over 20 miles was 2009. So instead of feeling mentally ready for the rest of the race, all I could do was picture the Hancock Canal Run and think "I have to start THAT? right NOW?"
I pulled out my trusty companion, my iPod, and fired up one of my favorite pump-up songs: The Fighter- which I listened to twice through in mile 18, which in my mind become my "Jon Orozco mile".
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life 'til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes the fighter, there goes the fighter
Here comes the fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me,
This one's a fighter
- Gym Class Heroes, "The Fighter"
All songs come to an end, however, and I was still only at mile 19, and dragging. I don't think I hit the wall, so much as that I hit a point where my quads were shredded and yet I wasn't letting them rest. I was, however, incredibly grateful for every step I took, because I truly believe God answered the many prayers to hold my calf together for that race. All of the leg pain was in my ill-prepared quads, never my calves! Somewhere in there I tore off the pace bracelets I was wearing- math seemed too hard, and just finishing sounded like a more reasonable goal.
~~Special thanks here to the woman who was sitting in her driveway when the nozzle on one of my Fuel Belt bottles broke. I was beyond thinking about small motor skills, but she very helpfully unscrewed a good lid from an empty bottle and replaced the broken lid from my full bottle. Thanks, random stranger!~~
The miles continued... Somewhere around mile 20 I also started feeling like the act of navigating a water stop was too difficult to undertake, and gradual dehydration in the last few miles certainly didn't help. I did some math and realized that if I ran 6 10:00 miles I could finish under 4 hours (although I was aware I had to do slightly better than 10:00 because of that darn 0.2 at the end). Two girls had hopped onto the course to pace a friend and I tucked in with them and ran 2 miles closer to 9:00. They were great support, cheering me on, helping me get my last Gu packet out of my awkward zippered pocket, and helping me up the last hill. I slowed down enough to lose them, however, and then it was just me in my head. The last 6 miles are a net downhill, but at this point my quads were no happier about that than the uphills, and my splits do not reflect a happy downhill ride in to the finish line!
Right around mile 22 the 3:55 pace group overtook me. This was the first pace group I'd seen, and I tried to stick with them. Since they must have started after me I knew that meant I was on track for slightly higher than a 3:55 finish even if I did finish with them. Around mile 24 I saw Mat and Nora, with a sign and more jumping up and down. Nora ran onto the course and asked "Do you want your last Gu?", to which I replied "No, I want a finish line", sparking some laughter around me. Looking back, I should've taken the Gu, but at the time the thought of swallowing sugar-gel - perhaps even procuring water to go with it- sounded overly difficult. At this point my pace was over 9:00, for sure.
Shortly thereafter a gust of wind blew my hat off, forcing me to stop, turn around, walk back, bend over, put it back on my head, and use what was my last burst of energy to try to recatch the sparkly angel wings of the 3:55 pacers. I couldn't stick with them for long, but the amazing Leslie hopped on at that point to accompany me for the last mile and change.
I am still in awe at how much a difference it made to have her there!! She was encouraging and entertaining, carrying my Fuel Belt and iPod for me, filling up my water bottle, and adding things about marathons to Psalms to keep my mind occupied. We quoted verses on top of each other, prayed out loud, and she kept me going while I questioned my strength. I know it was only the last mile, but that was a looong mile.
We passed the final water stop and I realized some sadistic route planner had decided to add one last giant hill, starting around the 800-m-to-go mark. I came to the unhappy conclusion that I could literally walk faster than the awkward, painful run-shuffle I had been reduced to, so for the first time in the race, I stopped trying to run. Instead I did what I thought was power-walking up that hill, resulting in a series of incredibly awkward race photos reflecting expressions of pain, grit, and dismay. Most of that walk came out of my arms, so my biceps and triceps were also incredibly sore the next day. The "400 m to go" sign was at the top of the hill and I decided I was going to start running when I got there.
Around that point a few things happened. The hill ended and a downhill slope began, the route turned a corner, and a nice man very politely called Leslie off the course because the last bit was fenced off and she wasn't allowed to cross the finish line. She went off and I turned the corner, picking up my pace and hearing her faintly call "Go, Nan, Go!" through the fenceline.
Usually I have quite a kick at the end of a race. Not so much this time around, but I had the strength to run downhill and turn and suddenly there was the finish line in front of me! I knew I had started when the clock said 5 minutes, and as I approached the line I saw that the time was around 4:02:XX. That was the point when I realized that despite all the awfulness of the last few miles, I had actually done it and I was going to get in under 4 hours. Hooray! I can't say I was excited so much as relieved. Relieved to have done it, relieved to have accomplished what had become my goal, relieved that my calves had survived, my prayers had been answered, and then, suddenly, just relieved that I could stop running.
I ended in quite a daze. I started kind of stumble-walking, trying to breathe deeply. I think my body was trying to figure out how much it could shut down, and my breathing was really shallow and fast- note to self: breathing is NOT OPTIONAL. I was trying not to cry because that seemed like a lot of work, and then I saw the people handing out the medals.
Now, I really like medals. I like decorating my house with them. This time, though, the medal actually felt like an award I had earned, not just a bonus for running. I had seen people walking around with their medals as I was powering up that last hill, and the thought of getting that medal made me push up the hill. When I realized that all I had left to do was walk up to the lady and she would give me the medal I had earned, I lost it. I walked up to her sobbing, and she said "Oh, honey!" and gave me a hug. She asked if I was okay and I said yes, and then she put a big shiny medal around my neck. Mission accomplished. 26.2 in 3:58:09.
The rest of the day was a glorious denouement of hydration and proteination, finding my amazing cheerleaders, calling my husband who had been tracking me on the race app all morning, turning stretching into a group project, a shower, and an amazing Austin-y lunch featuring a lot of cheese and a chocolate almond torte.
The race was overall quite nice- great expo, great crowd support in the downtown area, beautiful starting set-up at the Capitol building, and awesome shirt and medal. The hills were brutal, and definitely I should've taken them more fully into consideration than I did when training and setting goals.
Did I start too fast? Maybe. I couldn't have known that, though. I was trying to trust my training, and in theory I was trained to run 8:30-or-so miles. On a flatter course I think I could've finished closer to 3:45 or 3:50. The pain in my quads was what eventually slowed me down. That said, next time around I think I will be a bit more conservative at the beginning and drop my pace more gradually.
The hardest part for me was that there were so many miles when I was unhappy- not enjoying the course, not enjoying the fact that I was running, not enjoying the beautiful weather. One of my top goals for my next marathon is to find a balance of different training and different goals (maybe a flatter course, too) so that I more fully enjoy the experience- and enjoy the pain- rather than feeling miserable and defeated.
Now I know for next time:
When drinking and taking Gu sound "too hard", they are becoming more and more important and should be done!!!
Hanson's plan made me faster, but didn't prepare me mentally for the full 26.2 I would definitely recommend it for runners who already have experience with the distance and the associated mental battle. I'll probably revisit it in the future.
Having a pacer at the end (on a course that allows it) is awesome.
Training in the flatlands for a hilly marathon is naive insanity.
Marathons are fun.
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