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).
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Cary Short Course Duathlon
(2.5-mile run/17.65-mile bike/2.5-mile run)
I hesitated to write this report right away because I am not in a very good place about this morning’s race. But, in my day job as writing teacher I often tell students that it is important to write “where you are” and “what you know”—even if you are not where you want to be, and you feel like you don’t know much. I am taking my own advice.
The start for this race is kind of a mess. Strike that: it is a complete hot mess. Everyone lines up on the narrow trail around the park to start together (long and short course together even. Last year, they split us up by race, which made for a slightly more efficient start). There is also no start timing mat, and despite the fact that the race directors tell faster folks to head to the front, there is no real sense of where that is because the space is so silly. So, I ended up starting behind a crowd of causal joggers and trying to weave my way to a better spot once the race got going. For a 2.5-mile leg, this is an unfortunate waste of time because it took me a solid quarter mile to settle into a pace that I was happy with. At this point, it was 7:30 (Side note: who has two thumbs and never thought she’d put the words “settle in” before 7:30 pace? This gal.)
I wanted to keep that pace for a long as I could because I knew (since I did this race last year) that there were two uber-giant hills at the end of leg and that I’d need to back-off significantly when I got to them. And I did, in fact, drop to about 8 for that last half-mile. So, in the end, the official pace for Run 1, with all the aforementioned “slowing” factors considered, was 7:58 (2nd in my age group!). Last year, my official pace on the leg was 8:23. I’m happy, therefore, with the progress—especially given this year’s slower start. Even in my current state of mind, I can give myself that a 25-second/mile improvement over the course of a year is something I need to just go ahead and be proud of.
Then there was the bike course, and this story takes a bad turn. My dirty little secret is that I really don’t like cycling. I kind of despise it, in fact. I used to like it, but somewhere along the line I just started to hate it. It’s expensive; it’s hard to talk to friends when you ride together; and it’s very weather- and time-sensitive, which as a working parent, I have less-than-zero tolerance for. So you are probably thinking, “Gee, JLa, maybe if you changed your attitude you might improve your performance.” I’m working on it; I promise. But for today, the bike leg just demoralized me. The weather was chilly (low 40s) and breezy (race stuff was blowing all over the place), so this made a challenging, hilly course even tougher. People I’d schooled on the first run just kept sauntering past me, and I just fell apart mentally. I kept thinking: “Go big or go home? I choose go home.”
I was able to pull myself together by focusing on looking for horses and cows to count (6 and 3 respectively) and planning what I was going to write in this race report, but I was beyond relieved to pull into T2 and the second run leg. As anticipated, Run 2 was a little slower. I had what I call “the googly legs” after getting off the bike, so my pace for the first quarter mile was, according to the Garmin, about 8:45. I gradually moved myself closer to 8:15 (which was the slower end of my probably unrealistic goal pace for the second leg), and again, I had to back off a bit for the ending hills. Based on my Garmin reports, my pace for this leg was 8:30; last year’s official Run 2 pace was 8:55.
I actually have no official splits for the cycle or Run 2 because apparently my timing chip didn’t work after the first transition, so the race results just show me leaving T1 and then finishing the race. Oh well. Seems a fitting mishap for this experience.
In the end, my overall time was 1:51:36, about 3 minutes slower than last year. Part of the reason this time causes me such angst is that it is the first time (at least that I can remember) since I started seriously running and multi-sporting that I have not improved from a past race time. I know, I know, it’s really unrealistic to expect a PR in every race. Still, the clock is there; it cruelly taunts us sometimes. Bright side: I always eat cake on race day, and a PR is not a requirement for cake consumption.
Takeaways: I need to decide if I am going to invest in the training equivalent of couples' therapy for my relationship with cycling. I have already registered for the Triangle Tri in July, so perhaps I’ll try to spend some QT on the bike and make a call after that race. Running wise, this really reaffirmed my excitement for the shorter races as well as my commitment to keep pushing on the speed and tempo work.
Bonus: This was the first race I’ve been to in the past 6 months that actually had perfectly ripe bananas rather than inedible neon green ones (can anyone actually eat those and live to talk about it?). Mega props to the race organizers on that one.
The start for this race is kind of a mess. Strike that: it is a complete hot mess. Everyone lines up on the narrow trail around the park to start together (long and short course together even. Last year, they split us up by race, which made for a slightly more efficient start). There is also no start timing mat, and despite the fact that the race directors tell faster folks to head to the front, there is no real sense of where that is because the space is so silly. So, I ended up starting behind a crowd of causal joggers and trying to weave my way to a better spot once the race got going. For a 2.5-mile leg, this is an unfortunate waste of time because it took me a solid quarter mile to settle into a pace that I was happy with. At this point, it was 7:30 (Side note: who has two thumbs and never thought she’d put the words “settle in” before 7:30 pace? This gal.)
I wanted to keep that pace for a long as I could because I knew (since I did this race last year) that there were two uber-giant hills at the end of leg and that I’d need to back-off significantly when I got to them. And I did, in fact, drop to about 8 for that last half-mile. So, in the end, the official pace for Run 1, with all the aforementioned “slowing” factors considered, was 7:58 (2nd in my age group!). Last year, my official pace on the leg was 8:23. I’m happy, therefore, with the progress—especially given this year’s slower start. Even in my current state of mind, I can give myself that a 25-second/mile improvement over the course of a year is something I need to just go ahead and be proud of.
Then there was the bike course, and this story takes a bad turn. My dirty little secret is that I really don’t like cycling. I kind of despise it, in fact. I used to like it, but somewhere along the line I just started to hate it. It’s expensive; it’s hard to talk to friends when you ride together; and it’s very weather- and time-sensitive, which as a working parent, I have less-than-zero tolerance for. So you are probably thinking, “Gee, JLa, maybe if you changed your attitude you might improve your performance.” I’m working on it; I promise. But for today, the bike leg just demoralized me. The weather was chilly (low 40s) and breezy (race stuff was blowing all over the place), so this made a challenging, hilly course even tougher. People I’d schooled on the first run just kept sauntering past me, and I just fell apart mentally. I kept thinking: “Go big or go home? I choose go home.”
I was able to pull myself together by focusing on looking for horses and cows to count (6 and 3 respectively) and planning what I was going to write in this race report, but I was beyond relieved to pull into T2 and the second run leg. As anticipated, Run 2 was a little slower. I had what I call “the googly legs” after getting off the bike, so my pace for the first quarter mile was, according to the Garmin, about 8:45. I gradually moved myself closer to 8:15 (which was the slower end of my probably unrealistic goal pace for the second leg), and again, I had to back off a bit for the ending hills. Based on my Garmin reports, my pace for this leg was 8:30; last year’s official Run 2 pace was 8:55.
I actually have no official splits for the cycle or Run 2 because apparently my timing chip didn’t work after the first transition, so the race results just show me leaving T1 and then finishing the race. Oh well. Seems a fitting mishap for this experience.
In the end, my overall time was 1:51:36, about 3 minutes slower than last year. Part of the reason this time causes me such angst is that it is the first time (at least that I can remember) since I started seriously running and multi-sporting that I have not improved from a past race time. I know, I know, it’s really unrealistic to expect a PR in every race. Still, the clock is there; it cruelly taunts us sometimes. Bright side: I always eat cake on race day, and a PR is not a requirement for cake consumption.
Takeaways: I need to decide if I am going to invest in the training equivalent of couples' therapy for my relationship with cycling. I have already registered for the Triangle Tri in July, so perhaps I’ll try to spend some QT on the bike and make a call after that race. Running wise, this really reaffirmed my excitement for the shorter races as well as my commitment to keep pushing on the speed and tempo work.
Bonus: This was the first race I’ve been to in the past 6 months that actually had perfectly ripe bananas rather than inedible neon green ones (can anyone actually eat those and live to talk about it?). Mega props to the race organizers on that one.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Miles for Missions (5K)
I resolved in November 2012, after doing my first 5K in over 5 years, to do a 5k every 3 months. This decision landed me at the 2nd Annual Miles for Missions 5k, hosted by Grace Church in North Raleigh. Pretty nice location, good cause, reasonable race fee. Main goal: beat November’s 5k PR of 24:21, ideally with a 24:00.
I registered early, so I didn’t really wonder about the small number of folks signed up at the time, but when I checked the “competitive” roster again a few days before the race and saw that the number was still pretty low (about 35), I started to worry a little. I’ve heard that small races can be a great opportunity to get an age-group award, but in the back of my mind I was thinking the math could also very easily add up to heightened embarrassment/disappointment in a fast field. Also, this being my very first race in the official BCTC singlet, I was feeling some pressure.
And did I mention that it was pouring rain. . . and 37 degrees?
I arrived at the race site about 30 minutes before start, got my packet, and brought it back to the car, creating a circumlocutious route so that I could get about a one-mile warm-up out of the trips. At start time, I first lined up near the front because there was space there (most folks were being modest and heading toward the back). Everyone there seemed to know each other (most of them went to the church, I gather), but one nice fella started telling me the general break-down of last year’s results so I would know approximately where to situate myself (about 20-25 people back). According to the official results, there were 70 competitive runners overall; I’d guess another 35-40 recreational.
I started the race at my “holy cow, it’s really cold, and I would do anything to not be running right now” pace, which—according to my Garmin—is about 6:40/mile. I didn’t even know I had that in me. After about a quarter of a mile of this, I stared to feel the hurt and get a little warmer, so I slowed down to closer to 7:45. Then, around 1.5 miles, there was an awkward turn around in an apartment complex and a long-ish hill, and while in the middle of this hill, I was shocked to see my Garmin say I backed down to 8:40/mile. I don’t know how long I was at that pace because I refused to look at my watch again until I knew I was going faster. My toes and hands were numb, I was soaking wet, and a 12-year-old passed me. Nevertheless, I somehow channeled enough motivation and strength (the downhill helped) to kick it back up in the 7:35-7:45 range and finish out the race.
As I approached the finish, I saw how close I was to 24 minutes on the nose and pushed as hard as I could as I watched those last 10 seconds count down. Alas, I was just a little short; my time was 24:04. This was good enough, though, for my first-ever age group win in a running race: first place in the Women 30-39 category (11th among the women, and 22nd overall).
The takeaways: First, speed work really helps me, so I’m guessing that more hill work would too. Almost every time I got to even a little hill, folks would pass me but then I’d catch back up (usually plus some) on the next straightaway. I was thinking that I was getting solid hill practice by running in RTP so much, but, clearly, that’s not cutting it. Second, I think that I’m starting to understand what it means—and what it feels like—to really push myself physically (that is, beyond a perceived even not-so-comfortable comfort zone) for a sustained effort (i.e., not just little sprints). It kind of feels like crap at the time, but it’s super revealing both performance-wise and emotionally. More on that as I figure it out how to explain and apply it.
Finally, I’ve decided that the BCTC singlet is not only stylish, but also a good luck charm; maybe I’ll win an age-group award every time I wear it?! A girl can dream.
I registered early, so I didn’t really wonder about the small number of folks signed up at the time, but when I checked the “competitive” roster again a few days before the race and saw that the number was still pretty low (about 35), I started to worry a little. I’ve heard that small races can be a great opportunity to get an age-group award, but in the back of my mind I was thinking the math could also very easily add up to heightened embarrassment/disappointment in a fast field. Also, this being my very first race in the official BCTC singlet, I was feeling some pressure.
And did I mention that it was pouring rain. . . and 37 degrees?
I arrived at the race site about 30 minutes before start, got my packet, and brought it back to the car, creating a circumlocutious route so that I could get about a one-mile warm-up out of the trips. At start time, I first lined up near the front because there was space there (most folks were being modest and heading toward the back). Everyone there seemed to know each other (most of them went to the church, I gather), but one nice fella started telling me the general break-down of last year’s results so I would know approximately where to situate myself (about 20-25 people back). According to the official results, there were 70 competitive runners overall; I’d guess another 35-40 recreational.
I started the race at my “holy cow, it’s really cold, and I would do anything to not be running right now” pace, which—according to my Garmin—is about 6:40/mile. I didn’t even know I had that in me. After about a quarter of a mile of this, I stared to feel the hurt and get a little warmer, so I slowed down to closer to 7:45. Then, around 1.5 miles, there was an awkward turn around in an apartment complex and a long-ish hill, and while in the middle of this hill, I was shocked to see my Garmin say I backed down to 8:40/mile. I don’t know how long I was at that pace because I refused to look at my watch again until I knew I was going faster. My toes and hands were numb, I was soaking wet, and a 12-year-old passed me. Nevertheless, I somehow channeled enough motivation and strength (the downhill helped) to kick it back up in the 7:35-7:45 range and finish out the race.
As I approached the finish, I saw how close I was to 24 minutes on the nose and pushed as hard as I could as I watched those last 10 seconds count down. Alas, I was just a little short; my time was 24:04. This was good enough, though, for my first-ever age group win in a running race: first place in the Women 30-39 category (11th among the women, and 22nd overall).
The takeaways: First, speed work really helps me, so I’m guessing that more hill work would too. Almost every time I got to even a little hill, folks would pass me but then I’d catch back up (usually plus some) on the next straightaway. I was thinking that I was getting solid hill practice by running in RTP so much, but, clearly, that’s not cutting it. Second, I think that I’m starting to understand what it means—and what it feels like—to really push myself physically (that is, beyond a perceived even not-so-comfortable comfort zone) for a sustained effort (i.e., not just little sprints). It kind of feels like crap at the time, but it’s super revealing both performance-wise and emotionally. More on that as I figure it out how to explain and apply it.
Finally, I’ve decided that the BCTC singlet is not only stylish, but also a good luck charm; maybe I’ll win an age-group award every time I wear it?! A girl can dream.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Massacre, aka Run 4, Relay (4 x 1.6 miles)
I signed up for the race with some awesome moms from my son’s school; the goal was just do something spontaneous and empowering. We really weren’t even totally clear on what we were signing up for. So, once I realized that it was going to be about 3.5 hours of 1.6 mile loops with about 30 minutes between each loop, I decided to just treat the running part of the race as my speed work for the week; the downtime was my social splurge.
Since the running part was still over 6 miles, though, I knew that I shouldn’t try to hit each lap at say, mile-repeat pace, but I wanted to push myself a little. So, I aimed for the 7:45/mile pace I had in my last 5k race. I wore my GPS so as to check this pace, and I’m really glad I did because one, it was really easy to almost break down on the two rather giant hills at the beginning of each lap, and two, my teammates and I were all about the love when it came to passing the baton—not about efficiency. We hugged on each lap and exchanged encouraging words, and a couple of times we didn’t notice our runner coming in so there was a little delay on the transitions.
According to my watch, I was right at 7:45/mile for laps one and two. Lap three felt a little slower, but I forgot to stop my watch until even after our long transition, so best guess, it was closer to 8/mile. And I also forgot to stop my watch on the last loop, but the official results say I did 7:58/mile, which I think is pretty accurate. My team, the Fast Friends, ended up 11th out the women’s teams (just 20 seconds shy of 10th!).
So, the takeaway for me is that I need to do more mile repeats, and that I need to do more miles when I do. I have a 5k in 2 weeks, and I was really hoping to beat my recent PR of 24:21, but I’m a little worried about that based on this performance. I also kept forgetting to warm up between laps since I was too focused on making sure I was properly hydrated and fed (it's an obsession of mine). I do think, though, that I need pacing on a 5k, and there was hardly anyone ever with me during this relay. On the bright side, I do feel pretty good that I was able to keep a sub-8/mile average pace for the majority of my loops, especially given the aforementioned two giant hills, and—most importantly—I had a really, really good time; I got to hang out with some fun and inspiring women and cheer on the BCTC Mad Women as they kicked some butt. Bonus: I learned that I will not, in fact, die if I run after having a latte (a double even)!
Since the running part was still over 6 miles, though, I knew that I shouldn’t try to hit each lap at say, mile-repeat pace, but I wanted to push myself a little. So, I aimed for the 7:45/mile pace I had in my last 5k race. I wore my GPS so as to check this pace, and I’m really glad I did because one, it was really easy to almost break down on the two rather giant hills at the beginning of each lap, and two, my teammates and I were all about the love when it came to passing the baton—not about efficiency. We hugged on each lap and exchanged encouraging words, and a couple of times we didn’t notice our runner coming in so there was a little delay on the transitions.
According to my watch, I was right at 7:45/mile for laps one and two. Lap three felt a little slower, but I forgot to stop my watch until even after our long transition, so best guess, it was closer to 8/mile. And I also forgot to stop my watch on the last loop, but the official results say I did 7:58/mile, which I think is pretty accurate. My team, the Fast Friends, ended up 11th out the women’s teams (just 20 seconds shy of 10th!).
So, the takeaway for me is that I need to do more mile repeats, and that I need to do more miles when I do. I have a 5k in 2 weeks, and I was really hoping to beat my recent PR of 24:21, but I’m a little worried about that based on this performance. I also kept forgetting to warm up between laps since I was too focused on making sure I was properly hydrated and fed (it's an obsession of mine). I do think, though, that I need pacing on a 5k, and there was hardly anyone ever with me during this relay. On the bright side, I do feel pretty good that I was able to keep a sub-8/mile average pace for the majority of my loops, especially given the aforementioned two giant hills, and—most importantly—I had a really, really good time; I got to hang out with some fun and inspiring women and cheer on the BCTC Mad Women as they kicked some butt. Bonus: I learned that I will not, in fact, die if I run after having a latte (a double even)!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Little River Trail Run (10 miles)
Semi-relevant background note #1: I don’t think of trail races as ‘races,’ per se; I like to think of them as just challenging ‘runs.’ I don’t usually wear a watch or a Garmin, and I don’t (read: try not to) worry about speed. Instead, I try to focus on form, on staying upright, and on admiring the general splendor of the outdoors. If there were a non-timed option, I would totally take it. I think of these runs as my ‘tune-ups.’ I don’t hit the trails often enough, I know.
Semi-relevant background note #2: I had frost bite once when I was 12 (long. story.), so it takes my toes just shy of forever (5-ish miles in a cold race) to be not totally numb.
Race report proper: When I arrived at the race site about 45 minutes before game time, the car temp said 27. This is v.chilly to me. I suspect it just was at or just above freezing when we actually started. I really didn’t want to get out of my car, and I was actually cursing myself for signing up for a January race. I decided to be tough, though, and just get over it.
I didn’t think I knew anyone else who had signed up, but I ran into a very nice woman that I had worked with in grad school who kindly invited me to start the race with her and her running buddies. We started near the back of the pack because, honestly, that’s where the sun was when everyone was lining up. We had a steady, conservative pace, which worked out well for me because I was really having difficulty feeling stable on the trails with my frozen toes (see background note #2 above). I probably should have pushed myself more, but I’ll take companionship over speed most any day, especially on the trails.
After about 3 miles, we hit some very slippery terrain where the river had flooded and just recently receded (recently=the night before). And by slippery, I mean that I had to jump from tree trunk to tree trunk for stability (like Tarzan, but lower to the ground and not as cool). Bright side: it was totally beautiful, so I was glad to have the opportunity to commune a bit with nature. After the mess, though, we soon hit a nice open patch, so I decided to see if I could kick up the speed—both to challenge myself and in order to get out of my wet shoes more quickly.
As I sped up, the toes felt better, and the terrain stayed workable. No falls (just one close one), no ankle rolls, no slips—just more awesome scenery. I even passed quite a few folks despite some pretty challenging hills. Then, about mile 7, I caught up to a group of very kind folks who were training for a 50K trail race next weekend. The pace was very comfortable for the home stretch, and we even booked it in at the semi-muddy finish, where I was so thrilled to overhear some guys talking about my RUN DRM shirt and to see Adrien Cooper and Kim Chapman-Page (both volunteering) cheering me in—a fine ending for a really fun race. Now I just have to figure out how to clean my shoes.
Semi-relevant background note #2: I had frost bite once when I was 12 (long. story.), so it takes my toes just shy of forever (5-ish miles in a cold race) to be not totally numb.
Race report proper: When I arrived at the race site about 45 minutes before game time, the car temp said 27. This is v.chilly to me. I suspect it just was at or just above freezing when we actually started. I really didn’t want to get out of my car, and I was actually cursing myself for signing up for a January race. I decided to be tough, though, and just get over it.
I didn’t think I knew anyone else who had signed up, but I ran into a very nice woman that I had worked with in grad school who kindly invited me to start the race with her and her running buddies. We started near the back of the pack because, honestly, that’s where the sun was when everyone was lining up. We had a steady, conservative pace, which worked out well for me because I was really having difficulty feeling stable on the trails with my frozen toes (see background note #2 above). I probably should have pushed myself more, but I’ll take companionship over speed most any day, especially on the trails.
After about 3 miles, we hit some very slippery terrain where the river had flooded and just recently receded (recently=the night before). And by slippery, I mean that I had to jump from tree trunk to tree trunk for stability (like Tarzan, but lower to the ground and not as cool). Bright side: it was totally beautiful, so I was glad to have the opportunity to commune a bit with nature. After the mess, though, we soon hit a nice open patch, so I decided to see if I could kick up the speed—both to challenge myself and in order to get out of my wet shoes more quickly.
As I sped up, the toes felt better, and the terrain stayed workable. No falls (just one close one), no ankle rolls, no slips—just more awesome scenery. I even passed quite a few folks despite some pretty challenging hills. Then, about mile 7, I caught up to a group of very kind folks who were training for a 50K trail race next weekend. The pace was very comfortable for the home stretch, and we even booked it in at the semi-muddy finish, where I was so thrilled to overhear some guys talking about my RUN DRM shirt and to see Adrien Cooper and Kim Chapman-Page (both volunteering) cheering me in—a fine ending for a really fun race. Now I just have to figure out how to clean my shoes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)