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.