Chica-GO!

An early start as usual. Got up and tried not to wake Sarah, who inevitably woke up anyway. I went down to the lobby and grabbed a few items for breakfast, checking out my competition at the same time.

After getting everything together, safety pinning, eating, and all of those other pre-race musts, we went out to the street. It wasn’t too cold, but enough that I was glad to have some extra layers before the start. The hotel was wonderfully close to the starting line, but we had to walk a few blocks south to get to the meeting spot for the rest of the group. We managed to assemble a handful of the club and snapped a quick photo or two before we all got too nervous and headed for the starting lines. I gave Sarah my pants and she wished me luck.

The corrals were a pain to get into, with a bottle neck at the entry and people demanding to see our bibs. I flashed the volunteers and made my way towards Corral B. I had to climb over a few bushes, and wade through a few crowds, but eventually made it into the corral and actually found the 3:20 pace group. I stretched a bit and tried to get a sense of where I was and what I should be doing. I decided to stay in front of/with the 3:20 pace group for a while and see how things felt. If it was working, I’d try and hang on. If not, I could slow it up and hopefully wouldn’t have gone out too hard.

The gun went off and we started moving really quickly. I don’t recall having to weave at all, and was running at a decent pace almost immediately. So glad I turned out a decent time at Philadelphia. The pace group was behind me, I was moving along, and things were looking good. 26.1 miles to go.

I tried to find Sarah, but couldn’t. I also still had on my long sleeve t-shirt. I debated dumping it, but I was a little chilly and thought I’d keep it till I warmed up or until I saw Sarah. The first mile took us under a bridge and through a canyon of buildings. I hit my first mile on pace, somewhere around 7: 40. So far, so good.

After another mile, I was ready to ditch my long shirt. I thought I could just toss it to the side of the road, but I knew that if I did, I’d see Sarah a few minutes later. There were so many fans in some places, I couldn’t scan them all, but held out hope that I’d see her and be able to throw her my moth eaten, sweaty, faded shirt. I took it off and wrapped it around my hand.

The road split and I wasn’t sure if one side was better than the other. I picked a lane and stuck with it. Then I panicked and (without any rational basis) figured that Sarah would be on the other side. Next chance I got, I drifted over and ran on the opposite side of the road. Around this same time, I decided to check on the pace group. Not behind me. Not in front of me. Hmmm.

Then, decisions started to get made for me. My arm seized up and I decided I had to lose the shirt. I waited for the next water stop and tossed it between some volunteers. Maybe they’ll collect it for charity, or maybe some homeless person will find it and decide he wasn’t that cold after all. Six miles in and I was feeling really good. I knew that I’d move better now that I’d los the shirt and I was still cranking out miles in the 7:35 range.

The miles kind of blended together, mostly tall buildings and fans cheering people on. The water stations were good but long. I only had trouble once, when at 7, I failed to realize I was about to hit it and took my first GU without water. Oops. By then, the lanes had merged and I noticed a pace group about 100 meters ahead of me. I couldn’t read the signs but figured they had to be either the 3:20 group, meaning I was too slow, or the 3:10 group, meaning I was about to die. Only one way to find out: reel them in slowly over the next few miles and see.

One mile later, I was relieved to discover they were in fact, the 3:20 group and now I could slow down to their pace. Somehow, it didn’t help. It was harder keeping pace than it had been trying to catch them. Plus, it had gotten really crowded. I spent a mile or two just trying to mix in. Then, I noticed something alarming. I was passing them. Easily. Okay, so you’ll be in front of them. They’re the back end of the group, no problem.

But I didn’t stop. I put some distance on them and a few miles later, was ahead of the whole group. We were nearing the halfway mark and I’d be finding out soon enough if I was running too hard. Just as I was crossing the bridge I thought I heard my name. Too soon for hallucinations, so I looked back and spotted the group. Or so I thought. I glanced back again and recognized Joe’s maroon club shirt and Andy and Erin. I didn’t notice Sarah with them. I was glad for the support and felt my stride get a little easier.

A small incline met us just after the half (I hit in 1:38:24). I told myself the feeling in my legs was not that they were halfway drained, but much less, and I was still strong. I was starting to count down the miles and wondering if I’d really pull this off. No, don’t think about that, you’ll jinx it.

When the race turned back towards downtown, we met a wonderful view, the Sears (yeah, that’s right, Sears) Tower in the distance. I gazed at that a while and floated back towards the city. Some of the best neighborhoods were in the later miles. Running through Chinatown, there were huge crowds and lots to look at. We also ran through a more residential area, where row houses, canopies of trees, and hipsters playing Death Cab for Cutie on their stereos pumped me up.

20 miles came and I looked at my watch for a change. 2:29:00. I had run a 2:28 for my last 20 miler, and according to Svetko, didn’t look so good. I felt great. Just 10-k to go and 51 minutes to do it in. I could slow down if I had to. But I still felt really good and was actually picking up the pace here and there. I was also passing some stunt runners, which was better than Gatorade. Okay, maybe not that good, but after just losing to the tutu guy, passing the guy in the prison jumpsuit and the dude with white cutoff shorts and no shirt, felt great. I also met a nice guy from Italy. He passed me up but I kept him in my sights for a while.

I was feeling a little bit sick of Gatorade, so I opted for extra water at one point and was back on track. 3:20 was going to happen, I was almost certain. I was still pushing the pace, passing a lot of people, including that Italian guy. Just a few miles to go and I knew the club was counting on me for the team competition. Okay, I didn’t know that. Sure, we were signed up and I was part, but was anyone actually counting on me? I didn’t stop to consider that. I just told myself that no matter what, I had to stay strong so as to not let the team down. Two miles left. I could gut that out no matter what.

One mile to go and I was still strong as I’d been all day. I thought, “I’d better not sprint the end. I feel so good now, that if in the next race I’m hurting, I might regret shaving a few seconds here, when I already have a PR.” Okay, so I was strong physically but mentally not so much. But then, up ahead! Disaster! There was a man in a banana suit! I must not lose to any sort of costume-clad runner!

Pushing the pace to ridiculous levels (I think I probably was about 2 seconds faster a mile) I caught and passed that plantain plodder, that fruity footracer, that...guy. Even though he had the crowd support (Go Bananaman? Really, that’s the best you can come up with?) I pushed on, leaving him in my GU powered dust.

Just before the park, I engaged in a little bit of cheerleading with another runner who was hoping to inspire his mates. The two of us took off as we ascended the hill before the finish. What a cruel incline that was. But, it let me coast towards the end, sprinting like a madman.

I crossed the line in 3:15:03. A new PR by almost 8 minutes!

After loading my mylar blanket with bagels and fruit, I wandered off to find the rest of the group and Sarah. Eventually we all made it to the reunion area, ready to recap our day, including 5 other PRs, a great marathon debut, and a great experience.

Gimme One Good Reason

There were a number of valid reasons for me not to the Pet Promise Rescue Run yesterday, and no valid reasons to actually toe the line.

First, I haven't been running as much as I would like to before a race because I've been injured.

Second, I have been injured, so running my hardest seems ill-advised.

Third, I was up too late watching the Lebron do more in one second than Bobby Sura did in his entire career.

Fourth, I couldn't sleep after the game was over and would have to get up early to run.

Fifth, it was going to be way to hot for me to race.

Sixth, the plan was to run 9.5 miles to the start of the race, then race.

Seventh, the race allowed pet owners to run with their pets, which made me more than a little nervous.

Eighth, I was out of bananas.

Somehow, I still couldn't convince myself not to run.

So, when I woke up an hour earlier than I needed to, even if I was going to run, I decided on the race. I could still back out, right? I hadn't paid my money, so if my legs weren't up to it, I could always just call it a day then. But let's face it, that probably wasn't going to happen.

The warm-up was a great run. When we started, the weather was ideal, sunny but cool. There were 5 of us and we ran at a nice clip for the first few miles through residential neighborhoods. My watch was still off, so it was giving me more than the benefit of the doubt on the distance. Most of the run took place on the Olentangy Path. I guess I'd run almost the entire thing at one time or another, but had never gone that far south on one run.

My legs felt fine. Aside from a small blister on my foot, I was ready to race. Not sure how hard I could/would push the pace, but I thought I could at least try for a respectable time. There was no way I was going to back out now. I didn't even give it a second thought when we walked over to registration.

The registration area was pretty crowded with dogs and people everywhere. The preregistration line was actually way longer than the race day registration, so we got signed up pretty quickly, but the rest of the racers were a bit behind, so there was a slight delay. Not a problem, unless you're just off a 9.4 mile run and your legs are trying to tighten up.

Actually, I felt good, leg-wise. My stomach on the other hand was not. My apple and pretzel were long gone, the bottles of gatorade and water since sweated out, and a lone Gu in my stomach. I was a little dizzy and wondered just how much damage I'd do to my body by running this thing.

We inched our way forward for the start. The gun/guy's voice went off and we started out up a hill. That used to be my specialty, but since moving to flatland, and since being injured, I haven't run up anything with any sort of incline. Still, I tried to settle into a pace I thought I could sustain.

Problem was, I had no idea how fast I was going or how fast a pace I could sustain. Fortunately, Dave and Liz passed me and I gave chase. Maybe, since they just ran 9 miles, I'd be able to keep up. Of course, I was just as fatigued, but my oxygen-deprived brain didn't think of that. I managed to stay pretty close over the first mile. Kate cursed me about a quarter mile in, for having run already and still being ahead of her. I didn't mention to her that I have a long history of overly-eager starts followed by overly-humbling fades.

The course was pretty wide open, with only a few dogs in sight. The race wound through the arena district, not the most interesting place to run, but during a 5-k, especially one where you are trying to stave off total body shutdown, you don't exactly watch the scenery. I was starting to get a bit thirsty, and the bowls of water dotting the course for the canine entrants were looking tempting. But I didn't want to stop. I had hit the first mile and was only a few steps behind Liz and Dave, got to keep up. I heard them remarking about the pace, a little too fast, maybe? That works in my favor because I'm going slower, right?

The second mile was starting to wear on me. I was fatiguing and trying to keep the pace. But I was hot, tired, and left turns aggravated the blister on my foot. The water stop left me slightly less thirsty. I remember seeing the sign for mile 2, so I had a good sense of how far I was. But when we looped around for the second time, we hit a wall of people and pets. The people walking their dogs at the back were everywhere. There was a little room to the left, but mostly we started weaving in between dogs, people, and the traffic cones.

By the time I hit the second mile marker, I was pretty much just gutting it out. I had lost touch with Dave and Liz. I was just trying to maintain my pace. The course was mostly downhill over the last half mile and I was using every bit of those skills Keller taught us years ago.

The final turn is the same as in the marathon, but Liz didn't turn right away and I panicked. I was under the impression that I only had to go down the hill and into the chute. If there was more, I just didn't have the legs-- oh, she's turning, nevermind.

I passed through the chute and glanced at the clock, 20:45. I'll take it. I was not even going to try to pull off my tag. I let the volunteer fumble for it. But then someone handed me a plaque. A nice surprise, I guess it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

The rest of the gang finished, including Thor and Griffin, Mark's canine contribution. Liz won (but got a plaque that said Top 20 Female Finisher). Fortunately, we didn't have to run back to the house. We changed and celebrated with Mexican food for breakfast.