We probably couldn’t have asked for better weather this morning. It was a mild 54 degrees at race start (and basically throughout), so I finally got a chance to race in the singlet/arm warmers combo, which I think is super cool (plus Jen Dixon and I just got new matching pink arm warmers; they coordinate with the pink on my shoes; they are totally rad; and yes, I still say “rad”).
Jen and I started with the 1:50 pace group (1:50 was our goal time), but we quickly left them behind and settled into a zippy pace. We were both trying not to look at our Garmins (but who can resist, really?) because we knew we were going faster than we intended. We were shooting for a 8:15 pace; we were closer to 7:45-8. After about three miles of this, Jen was still feeling good, but I knew I couldn’t stay strong at that pace, so I told her to leave me and not look back. Friends don’t let friends miss out on huge PRs.
Until about mile six, I was able to keep myself going at about an 8:15 pace. Then, I began to really notice some stabbing (no drama!) pain in my left foot and left hip, and as the pain intensified, my pace slowed. A blister was the culprit on the foot; the left hip was this crazy IT band/ankle/hamstring “involvement” (to quote the wise Ellen) I’ve been nursing for a couple weeks (I refuse to call it an injury because it’s not). I felt from the beginning that something was off with my foot (my orthotic was rubbing for some unknown reason), but I think that as the hip got more sensitive and I adjusted my gait to compensate, it put more pressure on the foot. It was a vicious, vicious cycle.
So, at mile 9-ish, when I noticed that I’d slowed to a 9-ish pace (I caught myself actually shouting “No!” at my watch because I had really hoped for better) and quite a few people were passing me, I started walking. I walked for just for a minute, and it seemed to help—until the 1:50 pace guy passed me. I’m not going to front: I was totally bummed. I started to run again and tried to catch up, but I just couldn’t get there. And I watched my goal bounce away (literally, since the guy was carrying a stick with a yellow balloon that had 1:50 written on it).
I ran again until the aid station around mile 10, where I walked for another minute to drink some water and eat the rest of my Stinger gummies, and I resolved to run the rest as fast as I could no matter how bad it hurt (the “I’m-so-over-this” race plan). The final stretch has two pretty solid hills, but I was able to stay focused and get over them (it helped that there were some chatty doctor dudes behind me telling interesting stories about organ transplants). And I was able to keep the last mile around 8:30 to finish up with an official time of 1:51:17. Clearly, this was not the 1:50 I was hoping for, but it’s still a PR at little over 3 minutes better than my last half (1:54:54 at the treacherously mountainous Skinny Turkey on Thanksgiving day), almost 8 minutes better than my 2012 Tobacco Road time, and almost 16 minutes better than my 2011 Tobacco Road time. So, I’m telling myself to just be happy about it and eat my race cake.
My only takeaway for this race is that I’ve decided I need to take a break from distance racing. My heart was not in this race. I was not and still am not at all excited about it. I am, on the other hand, excited about some shorter races I have coming up. While I know that I’ll still have long runs on my schedule every week, I’m going to keep the long races off the calendar until next year so I can get control of my headspace about them. It will happen; I will be back (but I’ll make sure my comeback is on or near a beach).
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