Toe-Shoes Tina: Who Knew?

Distance:  13.1

Pace:  8:28.  No that is not a typo.

Wine last night:  1 glass of zinfandel

Self-Doubts:  Too many to count

Today marked my fifth time doing the PF Chang’s Rock n Roll half marathon (sixth if you count last year when I relayed it with Slo Jo).  Before this year, I’d only properly trained once – my first attempt in 2007.  I had given birth only seven months prior and had not yet begun boxing.  I was in significantly worse shape than I have been in more recent years.  I ran it in 2:09 something and was thrilled.  That first attempt has stood as my PR for 6 years, 364 days.  It turns out, not training for a half results in a worse time, even if you are fitter overall.  Knowing that I’d have the bulk of marathon training behind me by the time of the half this year, I set a goal of breaking two hours.  If I don’t do it now, I thought, it’s physically impossible for me and I should just give it up.

Fast forward to Sunday morning.  My day did not start promisingly.  I was tired and rushed.  Fortunately, I planned ahead and had set out most of my running stuff the night prior.   I did not set out my Gu because I knew I had a big bag of them in the car.  As I was getting into the car so Husband #1 could drop me at the starting line, I discovered my “big bag” had exactly one Gu.  Crap!  Well, guess I’ll wolf down a banana now for fuel.  No bananas.   Crap!   I instructed Husband #1 to stop at Starbucks so I can buy a banana there.  Halfway to Starbucks, I open the envelope containing my safety pins so I can attach my race number.  No safety pins.  Crap!  Somehow all four of them escaped the envelope in the middle of the night.  I suspect they were aided and abetted by a 3 year old.  So after I got my banana, we had to go BACK to the house, where I took the safety pins off my Hot Chocolate race bib from last month, which I (thankfully, though sadly) had not gotten around to throwing away.  On to the start line.  I was late.  Pixie texted me that the portapotty lines were ridiculous.  I went straight to my corral and came to terms with the fact I’d probably have to take a pee break on the course.  Gah.  Could that be the difference between 1:59 and 2:00?  I hoped not.    

I was in corral 8 of 20.  There were two people in Vibrams and for a moment I was sad I was not in mine.  I don’t know what I put down for an estimated time.  I know it wasn’t 2 hours.  I like to start in a slower corral so I can pass people all race.  But I know I put down a running pace, not a walking pace.  I assume the others in corral 8 put in a similar pace.  Many of them were liars (not the Vibram-wearers, of course).  As we crowded over the start line, many of them were walking right off the bat.  I nearly tripped over one woman who decided not only to walk, but hold her phone up and take pictures while runners streamed around her.  MapMyRun clocked my starting pace as over 12 minutes.   Not the best start when I needed to average 9 or better to hit my goal.  I get that everybody has their pace and I applaud all runners, joggers, and walkers who go out there and attempt 13.1 miles.  But use common sense, people.  If you will need to walk in the first half mile of the race, don’t sign up for a running pace and start in a running corral.  Walking later in the race when we’ve all had a chance to spread out is fine.  Walking when we are smashed together like sardines at the start might get you an elbow to the neck. 

I spent a lot of my first mile composing The List.  The List was all the excuses I would make when I didn’t break two hours:

• I don’t have enough Gu to push through 13 hard miles
• I am not properly rested because I stayed out until 2:00 am Friday night dancing
• I am not properly hydrated because of the drinking that accompanied that dancing (and due to the fact that I won’t drink water the morning of the race)
• I have 2 broken toes
• My corral started slow
•  I haven’t been training for a fast half marathon, I’ve been training for a full slow
• I don’t want to push myself and jeopardize my marathon in 2 weeks
• I’ll have to stop and pee

All of these were perfectly valid excuses to post on facebook when I failed to meet my publicly announced goal.  I was deciding how many I could use without sounding like a whiner when I blew through my first mile in 8:25.  Oh.  Crap.  Now “I started too fast” was right at the top of The List.

Mile 2 consisted of this very familiar internal dialogue:  “Slow down.  Slow down.  Slow down.  Shit!  Still too fast.  Slow down. Slow down.”  Mile 2 was 8:17.  I had not slowed down to a sustainable pace.  But I still felt great.  I wasn’t breathing very hard and was not really sweating yet.  I managed to rein it in to 8:49 and 8:57 on miles 3 and 4.  Just before mile 5, I passed a 2:00 pacer and thought I might just eke this out after all.   At the 10K mark, I was like “this is where my race begins” and pushed it a little harder.  I started to feel it in my legs, but was still holding up fine.  I passed two more 2:00 pacers (either some of the pacers start before others or they are terrible pacers) by mile 9.  Mile 9 was an out-and-back up, then down, a hill.  There were photographers on the downhill and I was gearing up to give a “thumbs up” when some lady jumped in front of me and spread her arms wide so she could get her own fun picture.  This is another way to get elbowed in the neck, FYI.  After the hill, we turned the corner and mile 10 was up yet another hill.  I tried not to lose any ground on the uphill and then sped up when we began our gradual descent toward the finish.

At mile 10, I thought “only a 5K left, this is where my race begins.”  I decided I could push through a 5K, regardless of what happened to my body.  At that point, I started to think I might break 2 hours.  Miles 11 and 12 were 8:17 and 8:05, respectively, largely because they were gently sloping downhill.  The course leveled out toward the end of 12 and my effort began to catch up with me.  I decided to cruise at a moderately hard pace until I saw the 20K sign.  At that point I’d have .7 left and my race would really begin (yes, for the third time).  I was definitely feeling it by then.  My face was salty and my leg muscles were burning.  Just before the turn to the finish line, I saw a familiar figure jumping up and down waving both arms wildly.  It was my friend Cheery who’d come to watch her sister do her first half.  I triumphantly held up 2 fingers and screamed “2 hours!!!!  I’m gonna do it!”  I don’t think she heard me, but the runners around me were startled.  My 13th mile was 8:23 and I sprinted the .1 to the finish line, sticking with the 2-fingered pose as I crossed.  It may have looked like a peace sign to most people, but my friends know it was a milestone, not a peace sign. 

I headed to the meet up area, still buzzing with excitement.  I had no idea I was capable of such a fast (for me) half marathon!  I met up with Shoe Killer and Dr. Runner, who had done the bike race.  Then Pixie finished with her own PR.  Husband #1 showed up and told me the website said 1:50:45 for my time.  I immediately thought “geez, maybe if I’d skipped a water station or pushed just a little harder, I could have broken 1:50.”  And you know?  If I had known my body could handle an 8:28 pace for 13.1, I would have gone faster.  But I guess I’ll have to save it for next race.  I also came to terms with my fast start.  Yes, as always, I started too fast, but I was able to slow down and prevent the epic bonk I was sure was coming.  And it helped my time overall to have a couple fast miles early in the race.  I’ve changed up my race strategy as a result.  I am at peace with the fact I will always start fast, like an undisciplined puppy.  But after a couple miles, I burn of that initial rush of adrenaline and run smart.  That is my style and I’ll take it.