Middendorf's Manchac 10 Mile Race

The goal today was to run conservatively and continue my recovery so that I can qualify for Boston in December.  I guess I kinda forgot about the conservative part.

But we'll get there.  Let's start at the beginning.  Yesterday I'd had a long day.  I knew I had a lot of running around to do so I shot an email to someone who'd offered rides to today's race so I wouldn't forget.  Over the course of the day work ran late, I did 10 miles of biking (I've been commuting to school & work) and had a beer over lunch.  Not the ideal pre-race plan, but life happens.  When the afternoon rolled around I was feeling overtired, dehydrated and I had a headache.  Frankly, I was grouchy.  I seriously thought about just skipping the race, but when I got home I had an email saying it wouldn't be a problem for me to hitch a ride.  I figured I might as well go since I already paid for it and I have a ride.

Cut to this morning.  I woke up feeling like I could have slept another 10 hours, but I guess 8 will have to do. Breakfast was a bagel with peanut butter and a cup of coffee.  Luckily my ride lives 3 blocks away so I walked over and we hit the road.  The long drive helped the coffee kick in and I started waking up.  I mentioned how I was trying to stay slow today.  At most I'd run marathon pace.  Maybe the first couple miles at MP+20 to start it off.  I figured saying it out loud would help me stick to the plan.  (I tend to get overly enthusiastic at races and go out too fast.)

When we got there, I was a little disappointed to see the race started with a HUGE hill, about a quarter mile up and a quarter mile down.  Since it's an out and back course, that means it would finish on a hill.  (To get an idea, here's an old picture from the finish line.)  Awesome.  In case you've never been to New Orleans, it's like a pancake.  Running here makes running in Kansas into a hill work-out.  (Seriouly.  I did a 5 mile run in Kansas City this summer and the hills had me panting.) The elevation here is -6.5 to 20 ft.  The 20 feet is probably the levees - our only "hills".  It's turned me into a hill-hater, which is something I've got to get over.

Yet when we bolted across the starting line, I was feeling good.  I tried to take it easy heading over the bridge but I saw I was at an 8:30 pace.  As I kept going I settled into an 8:00 pace but was feeling pretty good.  I figured I'd drop the pace down if anything started hurting.

As we approached the turn-around I decided to count how many women were ahead.  I wasn't counting that carefully until I realized that I think there were only 15 women in front of me!  15th woman and feeling pretty good.  Once I realized that I was doomed.  (Doomed in a my-competitiveness-goes-into-overdrive type of way.)  Now there was no slowing down.  At this point I already picked out the woman before me who looked like another 5 miles would be a fight.  So I could definitely be 14.  At least.

Damn.  So much for recovery.  The next 5 miles I spent slowly catching up to woman #14 (my sole attempt at being "conservative"), who'd started running with #13.  Great - 2 easy passes.  I made a point to not blow it, so I took a couple miles to catch up and passed them around mile 8.  Since our paces were close, one of them stayed with me and I couldn't shake her.  As we arrived at the base of the hill there was 0.8 miles to go.  At this point my legs were starting to burn.  I've been biking and swimming all this week and I was thinking maybe that wasn't a great idea.  We head up the hill and I pass a woman right away who's hurting.  She won't catch up - another one down.

I was feeling great for half of the uphill and then I start to want to die.  I actually walked for about 5 seconds before my brain kicked in and said "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?!"  Ahh!  The woman who'd tagged along passed me (DOH!) and then I was all out.  We crested the bridge and I started booking it, letting gravity be my friend.  Most runners were relatively spread out, but I managed to pass one guy on the downhill before crossing the finish line.

Phew.  I definitely didn't have a lot left at the end, but I felt pretty good.  My legs are tired, but not sore.  I downed a ton of water and gatorade, cheered on some friends and headed over for the food.  You can't run a race hosted by a seafood restaurant and not try the fried catfish.  And a beer.  Oh, Louisiana, you may be the death of me, but after a race you can rationalize just about anything.  (Besides, it was a light beer!)

Recovery? What's that?

With a marathon less than 1 week behind me, I'm already looking forward to my next race:  Middendorf's Manchac 10 Mile Race.  It's hosted by the New Orleans Track Club and Middendorf's, a Louisiana seafood restaurant.  Food after the race features Middendorf's famous fried catfish.  Real healthy.  This is what it's like trying to run & stay healthy in New Orleans.  Most races here often feature beer at the finish line and the Mardi Gras Marathon even has a water station that offers beer around mile 6.  Seriously.

Other than the constant battle to eat healthy while experiencing New Orleans, there's the battle over what to do this weekend.  I want to race.  And I don't mean show up to the race, I meann, I want to run like I'm racing.  See what I can do.  But everyone says you should ease yourself back into speed when you've run a marathon.  And I realize that this race is much less important than my upcoming marathon in December.  I certainly don't want to sabotage myself.  But it's so hard!  Ahhh!

Ever find yourself with 2 competing desires for a race?  What did you do?

Towpath Marathon - Race Report

The morning of the race I woke up early.  And by early I mean 2 am.  It seems impossible to get good sleep the night before a race, plus I was nervous because I had an ambitious goal:  qualify for Boston.  I eventually fell back asleep, waking a couple more times before getting up at 5:30.  Ugh.

I got dressed, attached my race number, put my chip on my shoes, finalized my pace band and made breakfast: coffee, bread with peanut butter and a banana.  I don't normally eat that much, but I knew I was going to be arriving at the race 90 minutes early so there was plenty of time to digest.  The race started at the Boston mills Ski Resort, which is accessible only by a couple small 2 lane roads.  I luckily overheard that traffic is terrible the morning of the race when I was picking up my number, so I planned to get there early.  Nobody wants to be stuck in traffic worrying about whether they'll make the start.

I was feeling pretty good that morning.  It was cold, although I knew it was supposed to get hot before the race ended.  Not great, but I was trying not to think about it.  (If I finished fast enough maybe I could beat the heat?)  There were a ton of people who arrived early, so we were sitting in the dark of the ski resort lodge, stretching and talking about other races.  When they announced we should head to the start, I stopped at my car to drop off my warm up pants and sweatshirt, and double checked that I had everything I needed:  Garmin.  Armband with iPod and gels.  Sunglasses.  Check, check, check.

The race started off heading downhill on a two lane road (I took a picture of the starting line after the race which you can see on the left); plenty of room as everyone found their pace and fell into a groove.  We entered the towpath trail about a half mile into the race, and things had spread out enough that I didn't feel too crowded.  I was carefully watching my Garmin to stay on track.  I sometimes find it hard to stick to my pace with the adrenaline pumping at the start of a race.  I tried turning on my iPod for about a mile, but realized that I simply don't like listening to music during races.  (I've always had my iPod with me, but have never used it before.)

We would run South along the trail for around 9 miles before turning around and heading North.  I felt pretty comfortable keeping my pace, but I knew that it was my upper limit and it would be a challenge to stay there for 26 miles.  The first guy to pass me going the other direction passed around mile 7 (their mile 9) and I was still feeling pretty good.  There weren't many people out cheering - the trail is not easily accessible at many points, but there were water/HEED stops every mile or so and the volunteers were well organized.

By the time I hit mile 12 or 13 I was starting to doubt myself.  The mile markers were slightly off from my Garmin, so when I would hit mile 7, for example, my Garmin (which I started when I crossed the mat) would read 7.08 or 7.13.  So I was running faster than pace "just in case" and it was starting to take its toll.  I was still keeping pace ok, but those little voices, "maybe I'm going too fast" and "you'll never keep this up" started to echo.

What didn't help?  Passing the half mark, I started noting a nagging pain in my feet, knees and my right shin.  I never have foot and knee pain <knock on wood> and the shin pain I only get when I'm wearing shoes that are too old.  I'd realized 2 weeks before the marathon that my shoes reached the 500 mile mark, but 2 weeks is not enough time to transition to new shoes.  Bummer.  That wasn't going to stop me, but it certainly wasn't going to make it comfortable.

As I approached mile 16 and 17, I was starting to hurt.  I knew I could finish.  That wasn't the question.  But it became increasingly clear that I wasn't going to be able to qualify without hurting myself, either because of the shoes, the pace being too much or the increasing heat.  So I began to consider my options.  Keep pushing at the same pace and see how far I could make it.  Or back off and save my legs for another day.  I stayed at a 8:20 pace until mile 19.

And then it hit me.  It was a beautiful day, even if a bit warm for a run, and I was in a gorgeous national park. The problem?  I had barely taken a look around to enjoy the scenery.  I could keep pushing the pace until I broke down, or I could literally stop and smell the roses.

So I walked.  That moment was a mix of emotions.  Walking when I'd already stayed on pace for over 19 miles, I knew I wouldn't hit my goal, but I knew that already.  Yet I also realized that I'd been missing the point.  Trail races offer the opportunity to get out of our usual city grind and wander through nature.  They offer a breath of fresh air.  There aren't the big crowds of city events, and that's part of the point.  And I'd been plowing through the race, pushing myself, and missing everything.

After mile 19, I watched my average pace creep up second by second.  At first, I felt disappointment.  But as I started paying more attention to my fellow runners and the beauty around me, I cared less.  Save it for another day.  I started taking regular walk breaks.  Partly because I'd burned out my legs - I didn't have a choice, and partly because I was enjoying myself.

The other runners were amazing.  Everyone was cheering each other on, even when you could tell the encouragement was as much for themselves as for you.  And most managed to keep a smile on their faces, which is as it should be.  We all want to challenge ourselves, and that's a good thing.  And sometimes that extra push is painful.  But, I feel that if you can't come out of the day with a smile on your face, perhaps it wasn't worth it.

So keep smiling.  And remember:  You run because you love it.

Towpath Recap

I'll have a full report later, but things today went... good, but not as planned.  I went out a little too quick and knew by mile 19 that qualifying for Boston wasn't going to happen.  So, rather than get too down, I decided to enjoy the beautiful race.  The trees were all changing color, which I barely noticed during the first half because I was focused on my Garmin.  After mile 19, I decided that if I was going to be out there, I might as well take in the sights and enjoy myself.  So, overall, I didn't hit my goal but the day turned out well.  As for qualifying, there's always next time.

An Unlikely Story

For most of my life, running was a punishment.  In gym class, after losing a soccer game, during volleyball camp... if things weren't going well, you had to run.  No.  Fun.  Runs were something I tended to associate with a lot of pain.

But when I decided to go to medical school after 2 years in the Peace Corps, I found that stress was omnipresent and I needed some dedicated time when I couldn't study.  Time where I could organize my thoughts, enjoy the beauty of nature, and find some peace.  Though I was in relatively good shape, I ran my first race in 2008 - a 2 mile "fun run" sponsored by a bar where I used to work - and I felt like I was going to die.  I also found myself thinking that I wanted to do that again.

Glutton for punishment?  Masochistic?  Maybe, a little.  (I did go to med school, after all.)  But I also find that running offers both a peacefulness and an opportunity to push myself beyond what I thought was possible.  2 years later, I have finally started to feel comfortable calling myself a runner.  A marathoner, even.  At this point I have 4 marathons under my belt and I'm constantly looking the next challenge.  I hope you'll join me on my journey.