Finishing the Race

It wasn't the sunny, clear day we had back in April, but it was lovely nonetheless.  For my long run today, I ran into Boston, to the finish line of the Marathon to watch thousands of runners complete their race.  

Crowds starting to gather

It was tear-filled, cathartic and soggy.  And it was wonderful to cheer on the runners.  It was also awe-inspiring to see our police out there supporting the runners, clearing the roads, watching the crowds, just like they do every year.

Here they come

Copley Square Memorial

I love this running community, and I want to keep this communal feeling.  Running can be an isolated experience, so from now on, I'm waving when I see people running.  6 minute miles or 12, if we cross paths, I'm gonna wave and smile.  We're a part of a secret club, and this is our handshake.

Damp tissues

This is really hard.

We heard the news at around 3pm.  Driving home from Natick, where we'd been at a BBQ with Paul's coworkers.  Because this is how it is on Marathon Monday, you go to watch the race, you drink beers and watch the kids play in the sunshine, you talk about your own training with other runners.  I stopped Paul mid-sentence to turn the radio up - I thought they'd said something about explosions at the finish.  They switched the story back to the race winners.  I started crying.  Paul tried to calm me, reminding me that we didn't know any details yet.  I tried to find details online, but boston.com was timing out, nothing had hit FB yet, then the first reports started coming through on twitter.  The radio stopped trying to cover the race, and instead covered the blasts.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to soak up any detail, but also not trusting what the media was reporting (when they can't google Patriots' Day, I had little hope they were getting the rest of the information right), tracking down friends, alerting my family that I was physically safe.  But mostly I just felt devastated, and bad for feeling so upset and stupid for thinking this could never happen here.  And I cried.

I felt like didn't have the right to be so sad.  Boston is my home town now, but I've never actually run the Boston Marathon.  I didn't know any one injured, dismembered or killed.  How can I show up to work having tossed and turned all night, eyes swollen?

This is my community.  The Boston Marathon is the holiest of our holidays.  It is one of the very best things the city does.  It's a shining example of human triumph - not just the runners, but certainly them too.  The hours trained, the records broken, the hundreds of thousands of dollars earned for charity, the precision of measuring and timing the course, of checking and double-checking every elite water bottle to insure that it is placed and spaced correctly on the table.  Boston has thousands of volunteers.  This year they turned away volunteers.  They have a volunteer loyalty program (and I assure you most people are not in it for the jacket).     The Marathon is just pure joy.  It is uncompromisingly good.

Of course, it would be a target.  How could I have been so naive as to think that evil would never try to mar the goodness that is the marathon?  Why can't we have nice things?  I have no doubt the Marathon will go on, but it will never be the same.  The specter of this year will hang over it for decades to come.

I wish that I could feel defiant or angry toward the perpetrators, or awed and amazed at the people who raced to the scene, but for now I just feel hollowed out.

I am so thankful to my friends for reaching out from places and phases of life, near and far.  It means a lot to feel less alone in this tragedy.

Plan C

R and me, pre race

Paul and I stayed the night after the marathon with friends A and C in Virginia.  The day before A asked me if there were going to be tears if I didn't hit my goal.  I told him that I thought there would be tears regardless, but that if I didn't hit Plan A then so be it.

I didn't hit Plan A.  I didn't hit Plan B.  I mostly hit Plan C, with a little bit of D in there too.  You know what the best moment of the race was:  deciding to give up on Plan B, and not just because I allowed myself to hide behind a car for a quick pee.

Corral 6 at the start

I ran Plan A solidly through mile 6.  Then we hit The Hill.

Let's just pause a moment to discuss the courses elevation.  I studied it of course.  But most of these profiles tend to make mountains out of molehills.  All of the profiles below are from mapmyrun.com.  The first one makes it look like you'll need poles to summit that hill, so I consulted the second which shows a max grade of 2% on that hill, not so bad.  Except that the second graph is basically not using a high enough sample rate.  If I zoom in on just the hill, it reveals the 3rd graph AND 7-9% grades!  That hill was a little beast.  My coach had mentioned this hill, but I had brushed it off as only 2%, imagine my surprise when I saw this thing towering ahead of me.  My face was roughly 8% grade purple.

 

 

Back to the plan.  Alan had warned me to not get worried if I fell behind pace on the hill, that I'd make it back up on the downhill.  I ran an 8:45 up the hill, so slower than desired, but I'm not worrying.  I just keep cruising, trying to remain loose.  I clocked my half marathon at 1:45:51, about a minute behind Plan A, and right on Plan B.

The half marathoners pealed off, and it was clear how few marathoners there actually were.  The race was advertised as a 30K person race, but it was actually 20K half marathoners and 3.5K marathoners.  It felt lonely and quiet from there on.  It felt more like a half ironman run.  You've just finished this long athletic endeavor, and now you've got to run 13.1 miles.  It felt like this is where the race really began

My heart rate hadn't recovered from the hill.  I would try to concentrate on running smooth and taking advantage of any slight decline, but it didn't seem to matter.  My heart rate was 180 bpm, and it was going to take drastic action to get it back down to 170 bpm.

I pondered this for a few more miles.  What makes 170 the magic number.  Maybe I could hold onto my pace and my 180 heart rate for 13 more miles.  At mile 15, I tried to focus on seeing Paul at the 20 mile mark.  At mile 17, it was clear:  I was not going to make it at that pace.  I was going to need to return to Plan C:  drop the pace til the HR is back under 170, then maintain that pace.  I thought a bit about whether switching to Plan C was just fulfilling the doubts I had going into the race.  But the numbers didn't lie- I wasn't running Plan A any way you looked at it.  Switching plans didn't feel like giving up.  It was a relief to stop having to decide to not slow down.

At mile 20, I saw Paul.  He had ventured out to give me a light jacket in case it rained (it only just sprinkled, and by the time I saw him, it was sunny and low 50s).  It was so good to see him.  I gave him the "thumbs sidways" sign, panted "Plan C" and kept on trucking.  Heart rate down to 170, pace well into the 9:00s.

Heading to the finish

The last six miles were grueling and boring.  Without a good sense of the area it was hard to know what to anticipate.  Having the race broken into miles (I usually train by time, long runs broken mentally in ~30 minute chunks) only reinforced how plodding it felt.  The course itself had five different out and backs.  The worst one is below.  You run down from the top, over a bridge, and you see runners making the turn off to your left (at the bottom), only to realize there are more runners on the bridge parallel to yours, so you have to go over that bridge, turn around, cross the highway a 3rd time before finally going the way you anticipated.

When I finally approached the finish line, I mostly I just felt tired.  I didn't really feel this overwhelming sense of accomplishment.  It wasn't like the posters.  I was the same person who started the race.  I don't know what I expected exactly, but I guess I expected more than strong desires to 1) find Paul, 2) sit down 3) drink more water, and 4) inspect my toes to figure out why they felt so wiggly (answer below).  Other than feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of navigating the finishing chute maze of food, burrito wrappers, volunteers, water, medals, and runners to find my husband, there was no risk of tears.  In fact I was much more emotional at the start of the race, waiting for my corral to be called, shedding a few nervous, excited tears.  In the end I was just happy to be done.  I felt satisfied, but not changed.

Odds and ends:

• Having dinner with my coach the night before the race was such a treat.  It was fabulous to meet his wife and share a meal with them before my first marathon.
• I've definitely been spoiled by Boston.  This race was sorely under-resourced.  Sure having bands on the course is a unique experience, but you don't really hear much of them.  And the water stops were just chaos.  Some stops had no volunteers, just cups of water set out in advance.  For the mid-to-back-of-the-packers, there weren't even any of those left.  Not cool, Rock 'n' Roll.  Not cool.
• I wore my BTT top and got 3 or 4 "Boston!" cheers.  Those were awesome.
• I relied on my virtual partner for pacing, which didn't work quite the way I had planned.  I ran a slightly longer course (26.5), as you do with other runners and many, many turns.  But even the smallest variation say 1.01 miles instead of 1.00 resulted in a time that was off by a few seconds.  I'd think I was running an 7:55, only to clock in at 8:02 on the mile markers.  Furthermore, I thought that on laps the virtual partner would reset my distance, but it did not.  So I continued to get further ahead of my virtual partner, while in reality getting further behind.  After a few miles, I switched to using average lap pace, which at least reset at each mile.

All done

Well, if you're still with me, I'm assuming this means you want to hear about the wiggly toenails.  If not, then read no further.  When I finished, I had at least one toe on each foot that just felt weird.  Once I found Paul, I removed my shoes to find that I had one toenail on the left foot and two on the right where blisters had formed up under the nail.  I've heard about people losing toenails to long runs, but I've run long and I've never had an issue.  Plus, I always thought that your toenails would turn black or something first, and that the nail was separating from the nail bed.  Well, not in this case at least.  It seems the blister is not between the nail bed and the nail, but between the nail bed and the tissue below.  This means that the nail looks almost totally normal, just a tad bit paler than the other nails, but that it's basically floating on a detached nail bed.  It feels like a loose tooth.  It is bizarre.  It has made putting on socks the most dramatic part of my day.

Plan A

Four days to go.

I swear my heart skipped a beat when I saw the "Final Instructions and Important Race Information" email in my inbox this morning.

Here's what I know as far as spectator information goes:

• My race number is 6028 (out of ~30K) runners
• I'll be in Corral 6.  The race starts at 7:30, with corrals departing at 1-2 minutes apart, meaning my start time should be somewhere between 7:36 and 7:42
• You can get text alerts for my progress, here.  That link says 7 updates, but the race packet says they're only taking splits at 5 locations (start, 10K, halfway, 20-mile, finish), so your guess is as good as mine where the other two splits come from.
• If you happen to be in DC and want to see the race, the course with nearest metro stops overlayed is here.

The starting chute: That's two blocks of corrals!

 I got my race plan from my coach a few days ago, and it's pretty straight forward:  Start at 8:00 miles, hold that pace for 26 miles, kick it for 0.2 miles.  But that's just Plan A.

There's a Plan B, a Plan C, a Plan D and a Plan E.  Plan E is to alternate walking 100 steps and running 100 steps.  So, there's quite a big divide between A and E.  I hope I never see E.  But it's also comforting to know that there is a plan should everything go to shit, and it's a good reminder to respect this distance.

With those details taken care of, I'm getting a little wrapped up in all the non-essentials.  How will I get 10oz of gel to DC on a plane? [I'll check a bag, but Paul, rightly points out I should bring my running shoes in a carry on.]  Where to get dinner the night before?  [I was seriously considering bringing my own dinner, until my friend, marathoner, and former DC-er, R came through with a solid recommendation.]

Then there's what to wear.  Until last week, I really hadn't thought about it, just figured I would dress to the temperatures, and I hoped it would be warm enough for shorts.  Last week, R (different R from above), asked me if I'd have my name on my gear, so people could cheer for me by name.  In watching the Boston Marathon, I've always enjoyed calling people out by their names.  But damnit, this sounded crafty.  R even suggested outlining iron-on letters in glitter paint.  The craftiest thing I've done recently is to make curtains, out of curtains.  And then you've got a shirt with your name on the front of it, can one train in that shirt after the race?

Here's my Plan A: if the weather cooperates (i.e., temps ~45), I'll wear a black long sleeved shirt with my tri team jersey on top (yay, BTT).  But if it's cooler (most sources tend to agree on upper-30s degree starting temperature) or wetter (also, 40% chance of rain), then I'll add my pink windbreaker.  It doesn't have my team or my name on it, but it's seen many, many miles with me, so I know it will perform well.  Here's to Plan A, and being ready for anything else that gets thrown at me.

Skydiving at 15ft

Yesterday, in recognition of meeting a major milestone at work, my team went indoor skydiving.  This was awesome.  Basically it's a giant tube of wind.  You enter it from the second floor onto a net surface, and then the tube soars up another 2-ish stories.  The ride is only 2 minutes or so, but it is amazing.  There's very little sense of falling, you're just floating.  Floating and having an obscene amount of air blown up your nose.

It didn't feel very physically challenging.  It's such a short period of time, and they have you really focus on just relaxing.  Very little movements can have a big impact on the position of your body.  Just angling your hands in one direction or the other makes you spin.  This morning, however, I'm feeling it: sore abs and pecs and neck.  Totally worth it.

If I were to do it again, I'd take a few lessons from this time:

• Bring lip balm.  The tunnel is very dry.
• Braid my hair.  Maybe it had to do with the fact that my hair was still wet from my morning shower, but even pulled back in a ponytail, it was a matted, knotted mess.  It took almost 20 minutes to comb it out when I got home.
• Bring a comb.
• Keep my mouth closed.  Spit crawling up your cheeks is just not a desirable sensation.

One Last Long Run

Three weeks from yesterday, I'll be toeing the line at my first marathon.

Mid-point of my longest run ever: end of the bike path in Bedford.

Yesterday morning, I ran my longest run ever and my longest run before the marathon: 20.8 miles, which should also mark the start of my taper.  Despite having trained for this 23 weeks, I don't feel quite ready.  My biggest concern is that my long run pace has been significantly slower than the 8:12 pace I'll need to maintain to hit a 3:35 goal.  The last hour of yesterday's run I ran on 8:12s, but that was downhill, my net-graded pace (estimation of the pace on the flat) was 8:20.

But whether I run the marathon in 3:35 or 4:35, I'm gonna finish.  That's all about guts, and I feel confident that I've got the guts to finish.  Training for this marathon has led to a lot of firsts:  many new longest runs ever (20.8 the latest record), many new most miles ever run in a week (40 miles this week is the latest), running the whole river loop, running to the end of the bike path in Bedford.  I've run over 525 miles in marathon training, that's one pair of running shoes sacrificed to training for the marathon.  I've run in 12 degree weather with my water bottles freezing shut.  I've run in a headlamp.  I've worn compression gear under my work clothes.

I had always considered a marathon outside of the realm of possibility for me.  With so many shin splints throughout the years, I just didn't think my body could handle that volume of running.  Sure, there have been aches and pains, and trouble getting out of chairs, but no injuries (knock on wood).  This is uncharted territory for me, and it's reinforced that there will always be new frontiers to explore.

In the next three weeks, I'll focus on the minutiae of the race: the weather, what to wear, how to tote my ~800 calories of gels, to bring my own water or rely on the course, what to eat the night before, buying plane tickets to DC (yeah, I know), and of course where to find our celebratory brunch afterward.

Here's to the taper!

Running distractions

I was talking to another runner over Christmas break.  He mentioned that he was trying to minimize all of the trappings that come with running that are not running.  He wanted a running experience that was pure:  no mental energy spent on the sport outside of the run itself.  This “naked running” ideal, where all you need are your feet and a desire to run, sounds so zen.  To run for the sake of running, without pace, without plan, without distraction is this almost holy pursuit.

And when I compare that ideal to my running, my watch, my hydration belt, my mapmyrun routes, my trainingpeaks evaluations, it feels like my training is missing the point.  Shouldn’t I just run for the love of running?

At the time, I said I didn’t think my goals could be met with that sort of training.  But what I felt was that my running was inferior to the naked run.  But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize that, for me, part of the joy of running is the accoutrement.  It’s the planning.  It’s the evaluation.  It’s executing the details perfectly for the optimal training.  

If you don’t read Mother Running Rampant, you must.  I LOVE her blog.  She is a far better runner and writer than I am.  Last week, she posted about being less ambitious in her running and how that’s counter to her experience:

My intrinsic love of this sport is shrink-wrapped in minutes, seconds, and that lovely little colon in between them. I’ve tried taking off the wrapping, but as when removing food packaging, that just makes my insides start to turn.

I read that, and I thought “EXACTLY.”

For me a run includes:

• Reviewing the plan from my coach.  
• Selecting out a route.  I have some standard routes (10 mile loop around the Mystic lakes, 2.5 miles to the river then loops, out and back on the bike path), but regardless some thought and sometimes some online mapping goes into route selection.  This step often includes reviewing similar workouts in the last month to get the most accurate expected pace.
• Planning a time (sometimes with a buddy).
• Checking the weather and making apparel choices: heavy gloves, thin gloves, no gloves; earband, thin hat, thick hat; pants, capris, shorts; tank top, shirt, long sleeved shirt, windbreaker, insulated jacket.
• Programming watch with workout (optional).  Depending on the type of workout, I may program my watch so it alerts me when my HR exceeds or falls behind the desired window
• Preparing nutrition.  Water, sports drink, gel and how to carry all of these
• Selecting safety gear.  Road ID, reflective vest, blinkies, headlamp, if it’s dark, T pass and money if it’s a long run.
• Entertainment:  I used to listen to music on my ipod.  For a while I was trying to select music with the right beat to keep my cadence up.  But, as tri season got underway and many of my runs were part of a brick, adding headphones just got in the way.  I spent the summer running mostly without audio input.  With marathon training demanding longer and longer runs, I’ve started listening to podcasts.  It gives me some distraction when the going gets tough but is also easy to tune out if need be.
• Reporting and analysis of the workout.  I upload my workout to trainingpeaks and provide feedback to my coach on how it went.

The funny thing is all that prep is what allows me to focus on my run when I’m out there.  I’m not distracted by the weather or deterred by having to make route planning decisions.  Once I’m out there, the running is pure and and the preparation makes it perfect.

Year's End

2012 has been a huge year:  getting married, getting a PR at Nationals and again at Lobsterman, starting a new job, twice!

I also topped 700 miles of running this year, despite 10 weeks of not running with the stress fracture.  722 miles to be exact.  That's over double the distance I did in 2011.  Woohoo.

Looking forward to next year, things are still feeling fuzzy.  A combination of missed workouts and no A race have led to a lack of focus.  Between holiday pool closures, a thumb cut so deep that swimming was forbidden for 2 weeks, some planned rest and recovery in response to the Chilly Half performance and now a cold, I just haven't been in a good rhythm.

Additionally, I have yet to choose my tri season yet.  Not planning on going back to Nationals this year, since it's in Milwaukee.  I've looked at races in the area and even a few in towns with family, but nothing has emerged as a clear A race.  Any suggestions?

What is clear is the marathon.  It's just 11 weeks out, and it's the only race in 2013 that I'm registered for.  And my goal is not just to finish it.  I'm going to try to qualify for Boston 2014.  For my age group that's 3:35 or an average of 8:12 per mile.  I'm a little nervous that putting a time goal on a new distance is just begging for trouble, but I also think that given my current fitness and speeds, it's not an unrealistic goal.  Despite the recent funny business, my training has been going well.  My longest run to date was 17.3 - a complete lap of the river loop from the museum of science to Watertown, which in 10 years of living in Boston, I've never done.  Two weeks ago, I did a 13 mile run, including 8 x 1 mile repeats at 7:24.  I left the house before dawn and ran to the track with my headlamp.  I watched the sun rise as I nailed my repeats - so much so that Alan has sped up the repeats to 7:15s.

Longest. Run. EVER!

Under my Christmas tree this year, was a reflective running vest and a couple of very bright blinkies.  Even if I don't know what to expect for summer 2013, I'm fairly certain January and February will include many more miles and sunrises.

Have a safe and happy new year.  See you in 2013!

Operator Error

This year's HR distribution

Well, I didn't run my goal of 1:36.  In fact, I didn't improve on my time from last year.  I ran a 1:42.  Last year's goal.  That's two races in a row that I haven't improved upon.

The thing that most threw me off was that I knew from last year that my watch measured the course a little bit short, but yesterday every mile marker I got to seemed to be further down the road by as much as 10%.  So my watch said I was running a 7:20 pace, but I got to that first marker around 7:40.  It messed with my head.  Were the markers off?  How were they going to catch up?  My grand total distance on my watch was 13.9.  Did they change the course?

Last year's HR distribution

It wasn't until I uploaded my data that I found the problem:  I had neglected to turn the GPS on.  My watch also has a footpod to collect cadence data, so all of my distances and paces were being estimated based on the footpod, not on the actual GPS.  According to my watch, I ran 13.9 miles at a 7:20 pace.  I wonder, had I had the GPS on, if I would have adjusted my pace down to run the 13.1 at that pace?


I somewhat doubt it.  I ran at the top end of my HR zones throughout.  Basically, I ran harder (see graphs), but not any faster.  In general, I feel fitter than I did last year.  A summer of PRs supports this feeling.  And this leads me to think that perhaps I am over-trained/under-rested.  I did race Devil's Chase 2 weeks ago. And, though I did both Devil's Chase and Chilly last year, I was coming off of a less consistent training base from the summer.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.  I want to PR every time, but sometimes, it's just not in the cards.  I will to use this experience as the impetus to review my racing and resting schedules, but I also don't want to read too much into one race.  The plan has been very successful for me in the last year, a little fine tuning is not a bad thing.

Yardstick

Talking with a friend the other day, he mentioned making a placard as a kid out of poster board and yardstick.  I realized, I don't own a yard stick, and I asked:  neither he nor his girl friend owned a yardstick.  Does any one own a yardstick any more?  Maybe if you sew?  Why did this seeming ubiquitous item just disappear from households?

This weekend's Chilly is the same course and very similar conditions to last year.  It's a figurative yardstick for performance gains in the last year.

Last year, I exceeded my goals by 2 minutes, improving 6 minutes over my previous PR.  This year's goal is a further 4 minutes improvement.  The plan is to take off at a 7:20, then be governed by HR for the remaining 12 miles.  I should know by mile 3 if I'm gonna hit 1:36 or not.  I will need to be able to run faster at a lower HR than I did at the Devil's Chase.  I've had a good taper this week, and low resting HRs, so I'm hopeful this is possible.

I'm looking forward to the race.  It's been a sorta crazy week at work, so I haven't focused much on it.  But I have hit my workouts, eaten well (even without the cheese), slept pretty well and had nice low resting heart rates all week, so fingers crossed that all equates to a speedy new PR.

Moo Cow, Don't Bother Me

I've been having some tummy troubles.  And not just while I'm training.  I've been trying to manage the symptoms with over the counter aids, but it's started to feel like some sort of arms race between my gut and my meds:  at some point I'm the one who loses out.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to track what I was eating and my symptoms and see if there were any patterns.  I bought an app called Food Allergy Detective, which monitors likely food offenders.  They suggest tracking for 4 weeks to have the best data, but after two a few things are clear (1) I eat some dairy with every meal and (2) dairy does seem to coincide with symptoms.

I've suspected for a while that dairy may be a problem.  When I would drink a whey-based protein shake the symptoms were at their worst.  But I've also tried lactose-free whey protein, and I still had trouble.  I've also tried taking lactaid with meals with large portions of dairy (hello, cottage cheese snack), and not had much improvement, so I worry it's more than just lactose that is the problem.

Here's the trouble though.  I love cheese.  On our second date (the one where Paul flew down to Australia for two weeks), we went on a wine tasting tour and spent more money on cheese than on wine.  We often point to that day as a definitive sign that we were meant to be.  In the past, when I've gone on diets, I have always found ways to maintain just a little bit of low-fat cheese to preserve my enjoyment of the meals.  In fact, I just can't bring myself to try to go dairy-free until after this election night pizza party tomorrow.

But dairy-free I will go.  I've got coconut cream for my coffee in the mornings, and several stir fries planned for dinners.  My goal is to do 2 weeks dairy-free and see if that addresses symptoms, then to try adding back in one item at a time to see if I can identify if it's all dairy or just lactose (hurray for lactose-free cheese!)

If you have favorite dairy-free recipes, I'm all ears.  I need something to keep my taste buds happy in the next two weeks, so please do share.

Twenty Six Point Two

Maybe it's the cabin fever.

Maybe it's the rest day today.

Maybe it's the fact that registration fees increase by $30 on Wednesday.

Regardless, I am officially signed up.  Hopefully, DC will have recovered from Sandy by then.

Mental over physical

Well, that was... a bit disappointing.  28 seconds slower than last year.  The plan was to run the first 4.5 miles at a hard pace, then increase to very hard and very very hard for the last 2 miles.  I stuck to the plan, but somehow my hard heart rate translated to a 7:44 pace.  This pace felt a little slow.  And I spent those miles watching the competition pass me by, hoping that my increased effort at the end of the race would allow me to catch back up. 

At 4.5, I kicked it up a gear and finally felt like I was moving.  I passed the 5 or 6 people who had passed me in the last mile.  Then I set my sights on a woman who had started with me, but left me in the dust when I tried to maintain my effort level in the first mile.  I slowly reeled her in, and in the last half a mile, I passed 4 more women, so that felt good. 

The end results are that with a slightly slower finish, I had an 8th place in age group (versus 6th last year) out of 272.  I can't really be disappointed about coming in the top 3% of my age group, even if it wasn't the performance I'd hoped for.  This wasn't an A race, and I didn't have A race preparation, taper or mentality going into it.  Having a solid race should be a good result.  My bigger concern is that I have an aggressive goal for the Chilly half of a 7:20 pace.  Averaging 7:29 here does not build confidence.

Much more exciting (and less sulky):  my friend A had a stellar race!  She improved her time by nearly 3 minutes.  That's almost 30 seconds per mile.  She hit her goal and really raced out there today.  So happy for her.

Breaking new ground

Last week, I ran the most miles I have ever run in a single week.  My previous record was just over 27, in the week of the Chilly Half.  Last week I ran just over 30.  I know in the world of marathoners that is not a big number, but for me, this is pretty huge.  That was 30 miles in just 3 runs, nestled in amongst 2 hours of swimming and 2.5 hours of biking.  Hell yeah.

But that will likely be the longest run, I'll see for another month.  This weekend is the Devil's Chase 6.66 miler in Salem.  I'm feeling good for this race.  Last year I did this race at an average pace of 7:28, for a total time of 49:08.  My plan for this weekend is by heart rate, so I don't have a good sense of what to expect time-wise.  I believe I'm faster, but I haven't raced a 10K in the last year outside of a tri.  My best was at AGN, but that was a 7:32 pace.  So, yeah, faster.

Then in 3 little weeks I've got the repeat of the Chilly, so I don't imagine the training will get back up to 30 miles until after that.  Here, we're targeting a 1:36.  This feels legitimately fast.  And a little bit scary.

But not as scary as signing up for a marathon.  I've talked about, I've researched, I've put it on my race goals with my coach, but I still haven't signed up.  Because I'm scared.  Marathons have always been this big looming beast.  I've always had too much trouble with injury to even flirt with a full marathon, but here I am, running healthy and looking at that 26.2 boundary.  The deadline for early registration is next week. I'm sure I will register by then, so I get the discounted rate, but I just can't seem to do it, yet. It will mean many more weeks over 30 miles.  It will mean running in the brutal cold and dark.  It will also somehow legitimize the possibility of doing a full ironman at some point in my future.  Marathons are scary.

Fairweather triathlete

As the storms rolled in on Friday night, I was reminded of Quassy.  Going into that race, I was completely unfazed, but during the actual ride, I was hating it.  With Duxbury, there wasn't a lot riding on the race, so I actually considered pulling out of the race.

My logic on Friday night, however, was that every other athlete was thinking the same thing, and maybe the fast ladies wouldn't show up, so I was in.  Unfortunately, where this logic fails is that the other fast ladies came to the same conclusion as I did.  When I arrived at the race on Saturday morning, there were some very fast looking bikes making their way through the puddles to transition.

And puddles there were.  The road out to transition had puddles about 8 inches deep.  Transition itself was in a paved parking lot, and my transition area in particular was in a puddle about 3/4" deep.  Try as I might to set down plastic bags to provide a dry spot for shoes and towel, it was not going to happen.  Everything got wet.

As I finished setting up transition, the rain stopped, but the wind started.  I put on my wetsuit and went to hang out in the registration tent to keep warm.  When it was finally time to head down to the water, I huddled up on the shore, shivering, waiting for my wave.  I seriously considered pulling out of the race right then.  I don't think I've ever come so close.  But it occurred to me that I'd just have to wait until the swimmers were all in to get my bike out of transition, might as well race.

The strange part was though, as soon as the my wave started, all those doubts evaporated.  I was racing, and I loved it.  The swim was rough and choppy, but so much fun.  Wasn't my best swim, came out 4th in my AG, but still just fun.

I took a bit of extra time in transition to put on a jacket, and I'm so glad I did.  Then, just as I was about to mount my bike, another athlete rode her bike right into me.  I still don't understand how that happened.  She apologized profusely, but I just stared at her bewildered.  My bike and I were fine.  And then neglected to hit the button on my watch, so my data showed a 43 minute transition, followed by a 3 second bike.

On the run, I stuck to the plan, I was chasing a girl who came out of transition just ahead of me.  She kept her distance for the first mile, but then I slowly started to reel her in, and made the pass on the back half of the course.  My run came in at 21:45, a new PR for the distance. 

Overall 10 seconds slower than two years ago (with a different swim) and only good enough for 4th place on the day.

Looking at my season this year versus last year, the clear improvement has been my running, which I think is a combination of better pacing on the swim and the bike, and just sheer leg speed.

Here's what my percentile rank in AG looked like in 2011:

And here's 2012:

                    
It's good to see how my run rank has improved, and how I didn't blow up in any race this season.  But I've traded a bit with the swim.  However, I think that's more to do with who shows ups.  Now I gotta get working on that bike!

Wedding (Cow) Bells

What does one do with a wedding at the end of the summer and a trip to age group nationals just 3 weeks before that?  One combines the bachelorette weekend with a triathlon.  

The weekend after nationals was the Cranberry Tri Fest.  A and I were registered as swimmers in Sunday's olympic distance on team with some friends from my work.  While R and L (and R's boyfriend D) were all registered in Saturday's sprint distance.  Both R and D's first triathlons.

When I suggested combining the two events, A was thrilled or at least feigned it well.  She found a little bed and breakfast in Plymouth about 30 minutes from the course that we basically took over for the weekend.  We headed down Friday night for a quiet, but lovely dinner, then got up early Saturday morning for racing and cheering.  I had signs and cowbells that I had bought especially for the race, really nice cowbells, and yes, the quality does matter.  I've gotten blisters from poorly designed cowbells in the past.

R was a little nervous about hitting the water, but D had take no prisoners attitude.

Every one made it through with smiles, at least by about 20 minutes after the race, if not the finish line.  Then there was brunch, naps, a little running, then it was time for the bachelorette festivities.  After a few party games and gifts, much delicious cheese (my friends know me so well) and some champagne, we headed out for dinner on the water, followed by partying in Plymouth.

I'd never been to Plymouth.  But it's got a cute downtown waterfront area, and a few bars I'd scouted on my run earlier.  But none seemed to be happening.  As we walked down the street, we heard, what I thought was karaoke, but turned out to just be a local cover band (!)  We head in, and we are easily some of the youngest crowd there.  Many, many 65+ year old ladies came over to congratulate me and a few to warn me away.  We danced and belted out the lyrics, and I got exactly one free drink, from one of the aforementioned ladies.  I think Paul was a little worried that there might be many dudes, but nope, there was nothing to stress him.  I think we headed back to the b&b around 11:30pm.  Really, it was a perfect evening:  great friends, good food, lots of songs every one knows, and still in bed at a reasonable hour for our races the next day.  My kind of party.

The swims went well.  Andrea's team beat my team, but I had a super fast swim (faster than nationals) that I was very pleased with.  Maybe not the average bachelorette party, but it was absolutely perfect for me.  And I was so grateful to have such wonderful friends to celebrate with.

Season closer

Fall arrived last weekend, and it's feeling cooler and crisper, but triathlon season is not over, quite yet.

Duxbury beach sprint triathlon is this weekend.  I did it two years ago.  In fact, I won my age group two years ago, so I'm looking forward to tackling the course again.  This year, with the tides, the swim isn't the spectator-friendly, along-the-bridge swim.  Instead, it's a simple triangle.  Otherwise, the course is the same.

As a fast, flat, short course, I'm looking to go out hard and leave nothing in the tank.  Not much else to the strategy, just get faster with every step of the race, and hopefully, regain my title.

Marriage takes at least 15 seconds off

6am - somewhere between Boston and Freeport

"So, what time is your wave?" - J

"Uh, no clue." - me

Yeah, so this was easily the least prepared for a race that I've been all season.

But somehow despite that, I posted the best time of the season, and I did break the 2:35 barrier.  In fact, I ran a 2:33:53.  Over a minute better than Nationals and almost 7 minutes faster than last year.  But this year, the fast ladies were out:  I placed 4th versus 2nd last year.

Check out the results (I'm in red). Each marker is time check (when the athlete went over a timing mat, i.e., swim, start of bike, end of bike, start of run, finish)

My swim was 25 minutes (2 minutes better than last year), but only good enough for 7th in the swim.  Fast ladies.  But I had the #1 fastest T1, so I passed some one in transition.  

I had the 6th fastest bike (over a minute faster than last year), and passed 2 ladies, putting me in 4th place going into the run.  

I felt great heading out on the run, going up and over that first brutal hill.  Around mile 4, I got passed by the woman who finished 3rd.  She was motoring.  She had the fastest run of the age group.  But shortly thereafter, I passed the 5th place woman, returning me to 4th place.  I ran a 47 minute 10K, 2 minutes faster than last year.

Once again in this race, I didn't check my total time until I hit the finish line.  As I was running through, the clock said 2:53.  I was pretty sure I started 20 minutes after the first wave, but it wasn't til I made it through that J confirmed that I had finished in 2:33.  There were many hugs and high-fives all around.  Then beers and burgers.

This is such an excellent race.   And great to do it back to back years for comparison.  2:33 is serious, and it makes me think that something in the 2:2X might be possible next summer.  One more tri to go this season:  the sprint in Duxbury in two weeks.  Then it's time to focus on running, cause I've convinced myself that it's time to take on 26.2.  Watch out DC Rock n' Roll Marathon.  I've got your number.

Motivation deflation

Lobsterman is tomorrow.  I am completely unprepared.  And I don't care.

I have a few posts that I owe you:  a bachelorette party post and a wedding post.  But right now, I'm exhausted.  My motivation to do just about anything, save looking at wedding photos, is zero.

The wedding was amazing and joyous.  It was so much more than I ever could have hoped for.  But it was also just incredibly draining.  Planning the wedding felt like death by a thousand cuts.  My brain seems to be protesting organizing anything at this point.  We took a few days off after the wedding, but I feel like I could have used a few more.  Motivating myself feels like pushing on a deflated balloon:  I just bulge out to the sides, but very little movement actually occurs.

Which brings us to Lobsterman.  It's my last olympic distance race of the season.  I signed up for it thinking that there was a good chance I wouldn't want to race the weekend after my wedding.  But as I was riding high on the post-wedding, good feelings, I decided I should go for it.  I had originally thought that I might be able to post a new PR tomorrow.  Lobsterman was the site of my PR from last year.  And damn it, if I still don't want to shave those 10 seconds off my time to get down to sub-2:35.  But I fear that, at present, I lack the ferocity necessary to go out hard and red line the run.  Hell, I don't even have stretchy laces in my running shoes at the moment.

Thus, the plan for tomorrow is to just go out and have fun.  I love racing.  There's no pressure on this one.

I leave you with one of my favorite picts from the wedding.  I have no idea what Paul said that was so funny, but I just love how happy we are.  That's how it felt the whole day.

Execution

The day before the race felt like Christmas morning:  the anticipation was huge.  I'd like to think my attitude was endearingly exuberant, but Paul might beg to differ.  We each had taken Friday off from work, but I had told him we didn't have to leave until 10am.  I awoke at 7am in a hurricane of activity:

• Went to the park to practice my transitions one last time
• Mounted the bike on top of the car
• Showered
• Finished packing
• Ate breakfast (with coffee)
• Re-watched the relevant portion of the webinar on bodymarking and equipment stickers (I had watched the whole thing earlier in the week along with the full recording of the bike course - what can I say, I like to be prepared.  It paid off:  no fewer than 3 teammates asked me about the location of the race numbers)
• Decided that we needed an audio book for the drive
• Scoured the internet for a book and the car for our FM transmitter dongle (no, our car does not have one of those fancy audio-in ports)
• Decided we were better off with a book on CD
• Looked up bookstores on our route
• Called our local bookstore to discover that they were both open AND had an ample supply of books on CD
• Giddily greeted Paul and offered to go to the bookstore to pick one up before our 10 am departure.

I thought my phone was on its last leg in March when the ear speaker died, but I've soldiered on with it on speaker phone or using headphones.  Last week various portions of the screen became non-responsive, leaving it far less functional than I would have liked.  Standing in the store and trying to look up Amazon reviews for these audio books with a keyboard that would interpret "It's murder, my son" as "Is mrdr m sn" (which even google can't decipher) was the last straw.  I cursed myself for not replacing the phone the day before and vowed to replace it on my return to Boston.  I grabbed a book based solely on its cover and price (always sure signs of quality), and returned home to get Paul at 9:45.  Only to discover that he had already read that book.  So back to the bookstore to exchange for another book.  A book we discovered when we went to play the first disk was 21 hours long.  An inauspicious start, but from there things became much less fraught.

As we neared Burlington, Paul asked me about my goals.  I told him I wanted to execute the plan.  Although I've adopted the practice of writing the relevant power and HR numbers on my gel flasks for races, this one included, I had inadvertently committed this race's plan to memory.  I recited it for Paul.  He pushed back, "Yeah, but what time do you want."  I really didn't have a goal number.  I wanted to break 2:40, I wanted to PR, but anything less than 2:40 would make me happy, particularly if I felt like the race itself had gone well.

Panoramic shot of the swim course

Pre-race with my honey

We made a quick stop at the expo, where Paul scoped out the goods while I waited in line for my packet.  Then got the heck out of there to limit the race hubbub's intrusion on my pre-race calm.  We headed up to the beach for a quick swim, bike and run to refresh the muscle memory.  I'm so glad, I got in the water.  It was choppy, reminiscent of swimming in the ocean north of Brisbane.  Walden just can't prepare you for this.  I convinced myself that because the actual swim was in a protected bay, that this would be worst that I could expect from the actual race.

The only real error in planning on Friday was going to the fabulous Farmhouse Tap and Grill for dinner.  It's just cruel to go to a place with 30 beers on tap and local cheese plates on offer the day before a race.  We returned there Saturday night to fully enjoy their menu.

Race morning, we arrived at transition to sunny skies and WINDY conditions.  There were white caps even within the protected area.  We watched many waves go off and adjusted my sighting plan to account for getting blown around by the wind.  Once in the water, I found feet quickly to follow.  Out to about the halfway point, I was on those feet.  I did my best to find another set, but at some point, I was just out there either by myself or passing men from the wave ahead of me.  But I felt strong.  I came out of the water and hit my watch through my wetsuit (I keep it under my sleeve so I can get the wetsuit off easily), I wouldn't find out the final time until after the race.

GPS of my swim

Swim:
26:59 (1:39 pace, 1:37 faster than last year)
Rank in AG: 37 / 95

The bike was all about being in the moment, hitting my power and heart rate numbers, and not gunning it over the rollers, so I still had legs left for the run.  My coach had admonished me not to get competitive with others in the race to the detriment of my overall time, focus on my plan an execute.  As I got passed by girls in my age group, it occurred to me, I must've had a pretty good swim.  In many races, I narrate the ride to myself:  I'm already writing my race report in my head.  In this bike, there was no chatter, there were numbers to hit, and that water to drink and sometimes gel to take but otherwise, my head was blissfully quiet.  It's the most being-into-a-race that I've ever been, and it was awesome.

In the second half of the bike, I had a little trouble stepping the bike up to a harder effort because of the rolling terrain.  I also had the signal on my power meter go out a few times (I'm thinking a loose wire is the cause, and I'm not thrilled about having to replace it.), but it didn't faze me during the race.  I've done workouts where my power meter's battery has died, and I've still gotten them done.  A little less data wasn't going to impact this race.

Bike:
1:17:56 (19.1mph and 4 seconds slower than last year)
Rank in AG: 66 / 95

Run course elevation

On the way out to the run

This run course starts with a beast of a hill, then is mostly a gentle downhill to the finish.  I had expected that no matter what I did my heart rate would sky rocket on that hill, then I'd need to focus on getting things back under control.  Although it did increase dramatically, it didn't get into the red zone.  I thought, maybe I'm not pushing hard enough on this hill, but this feels like the speed I should be running.  Cresting the top of the hill, I fell into a really comfortable pace and cadence.  I kept thinking about staying relaxed and swinging my arms.  I felt great.  I checked in with my heart rate, and it looked good.  My first mile was my slowest and also the only one over an 8 min mile.

As I fatigued, I had to work really hard to keep my cadence up.  When I hit the mile 5 marker, I switched into my last gear, and brought that mile home in 7:27 (my second fastest mile of the run).  I saw the finish line and I sprinted, passing people left and right.  Final time was 46:45.  This is my fastest 10K on record, stand-alone or as part of a tri.  And it beat my time at Quassy when I had such a slow bike and really put everything I had into that run.

Sprinting to the finish

Run:
46:45 (7:32 pace, 5:34 better than last year!)
Rank in AG: 49 / 95

I crossed the finish line 6:11 faster than last year, and though clearly most of that time came from the run, I think I've made improvements on the bike as well.  I pushed the same time as last year but at a more conservative effort, allowing me to run on legs that weren't completely thrashed.

Last year, when I came to this race, I was plagued with doubts.  Did I really belong at the National Champs?  This year, I was confident.  Not that I was going to win or make the national team, but that I was going to have a great race.  I thought going in that I was going to let the best in the country spur me on to a PR.  In the end though, I was immune to the competition, focused on my race and my plan.

Post race with my honey

Finally, I can't take all the credit for this improvement.  I get great support, and not just from my team, and from A and R.  My fiance Paul forgives me when I wake him up in the morning to train, is understanding of my absence for half of the weekend as I get in my long runs and rides, and schleps both me and my gear to and from races.  I started training with Coach Alan almost exactly a year ago.  I went through a pretty structured process of researching, shortlisting and interviewing coaches.  I wanted to find some one who would take the guesswork out of my training and who cared about my races (almost) as much as I do.  I found these qualities in Coach Alan.  To say that my training programs have been detailed almost misses the point:  they have been perfectly tailored to meet my goals.

I took a look back at the goals I sent to Alan on Sept 5 of last year:

• Be injury-free-  Ok, this took some work considering I had already injured my leg (which became the stress fracture) when we started training together
• PR at Newton Chilly Half-  DONE 1:40:02 a 6 minute PR
• 6 mos: Increase power on the bike- DONE. 2011 AGN = 133W, 2012 AGN = 152W
• Qualified and race at AGN- obviously DONE
• Place in the top half for my age group at AGN-  Close.  57th percentile for my AG (an improvement from 68th last year), needed to shave a little more than 1 more minute off to break into the top half.
• Set a PR for an Oly under 2:35-  I almost wanna give myself a pass on 10 seconds, but I've still got one more oly of the season to go, so I'm not gonna close the book on this one yet.

Thank you, Alan.  Thank you, Paul.  I couldn't have done it without you.