Monday, March 19, 2012

The Best Race of My Life



A little more than five years ago, I looked at my watch as I was nearing the 10-mile marker of a half marathon. I remember vividly how astonished I was to realize that if I could just hold on to the end, I would finish in about 2 hours and 15 minutes. Crossing the finish line at 2:15:14 (a 10:20 pace), I was jubilant. I never thought I could finish a half marathon in less than 2 hours and 20 minutes. In my mind, I was still the lumbering girl who waddled across the finish line at her first marathon in a less-than-blazing 5 hours and 47 minutes (age 33, year 2004). A few months later, I completed my first half in 2 hours and 24 minutes, and I was intensely proud of that.

Yesterday, at age 42, I achieved my two biggest and longest-held running goals: a sub-2 hour half marathon and a sub-90 minute 10-miler, both in the same race. My previous best times for both of these distances were accomplished in 2009, the year I turned 40. At the Broad Street Run, I finished 10 miles in 91 minutes and 11 seconds. I crossed the finish line at the Philadelphia Distance Run in 2:02:53. At the time I thought I was close enough to get the stats I wanted fairly easily. However, despite intensive training, rather than getting closer to my hoped-for times, I slipped further away over the next few years. While I was still getting faster in 5ks, I was beginning to think it likely that I had peaked at distance running, and my sub-2/sub-90 dreams were out of my grasp. After all, I keep reading and hearing about the physical decline that happens as you move through your 40s and beyond.

I signed up for the Shamrock half-marathon feeling like it was my last shot to go for that sub-2. The cooler temperatures of a March race suit me. It’s also a flat course, and a race that I had heard terrific things about. I also signed up for a 10-miler two weeks after Shamrock to go for my sub-90.

My friend and fellow DetermiNation committee member, Ashley, also had her sights set on a sub-2 half marathon at Shamrock. So Saturday morning we loaded up her car with expensive gas and healthy snacks for the 5+ hour drive down to Virginia Beach.

In Maryland, an omen came. We were pulled over for speeding. The state trooper looked at the PA plates, demanded license and registration, and we resigned ourselves to a speeding ticket. Boo! He walked back a few minutes later, handed Ashley her paperwork and said we were getting a warning, no fine, no points. We thanked him profusely, promised responsible law-abiding driving and happily returned to our trek. Yay!

Even with our new dedication to obeying the speed limit, we made good time to Virginia and collected our race items at the expo. Upon checking in at the hotel, we learned that there was a (really nice!) free shuttle to and from the race, that the hotel offered free breakfast early enough for the runners to eat and digest before the race, and that we would not have to check out until 2pm. We went down to the beach for a bit before a really good Italian dinner, and then it was time to rest for the race.

Race-morning weather was perfect. Low- to mid-50s, no wind, overcast and a little humid. Ashley and I went our separate ways at the start line (we both prefer to race alone) and waited for our wave to be released. I had a sub-2 race plan. Run the first mile between 9:15 and 9:20; run the second and third miles at 9:10, run a 9:05 pace through mile 10 and then hold on for dear life. I am forever warning people not to start a distance race too fast. So when I passed the first mile marker and realized I ran it in 8:45, I thought I was doomed. I slowed for the next few miles, but I was still under a 9-minute pace. However, I felt weirdly good. At the 6-mile mark, I looked at my watch and saw 53 minutes had elapsed. I decided at that point to revise my goals. I was going for the sub-90 10-miler, and if that meant I fell apart in the last three miles and missed the sub-2, I would be ok with that.

I continued to feel good through mile 8, which is traditionally where the wheels start to fall off for me in this kind of race. Mile 9 was tougher, but I remembered how close I was to my new goal, and I hung on to capture it. I crossed the 10-mile marker in 89 minutes, more than two minutes faster than my best time.

Mile 11 hurt. I heard a lot of runners in my vicinity voicing their desire for that sub-2 goal, and a few people mentioned at the 10-mile marker that we only had to do a 31-minute 5k to achieve it. Near the end of mile 11, the sun popped out, and it got warm. Boo! But, magically, just a few minutes later it ducked back behind a mass of clouds, and stayed there until almost exactly the moment I crossed the finish line. Yay! That last 5k was hard and slower, but I knew what I wanted and I was going to fight for it.

Approaching the finish line, I had that combination of intense suffering and ecstasy that can only happen when you are having an outstanding race. I saw the finish clock from a distance, and knew for certain that not only would I easily get my sub-2, but if I ran the last bit hard, my clock time (in races unless you are elite you always start at least a few minutes after the race clock is initiated; you actual time is chip time) would be under two hours. Sure enough: clock time 1:59:52, chip time 1:58:05. I stumbled forward happily chirping “big PR!” to the nice volunteers who gave me my medal, a race hoodie, race hat, fluids, pretzels and a shamrock cookie (this event has great swag).

A beaming Ashley found me and announced that her clock time was 1:55. We found out that her chip time was 1:53:27, a nine-minute PR for her. We squealed and hugged, and went into the food tent on the beach to say hi to the Virginia D-Nation folks, who gave us peanut-butter sandwiches and cupcakes, and then collected our beef stew and Yuengling beers from the race volunteers and went to hang on the beach.

A couple of stats that are just killing me right now: My overall placement was 2020 out of 7894 runners. I finished 112 out of 738 women in my age group, and 787 out of 4894 women overall. I beat a majority of the men in the 30-34 age range, which I think of as the most competitive group.

I wanted this. I wanted this deeply, and for years. I worked hard, and I got it. Me, the little chubby kid who couldn’t do anything that didn’t involve a pen. So this was a perfect race, the best race of my life. At least, so far.