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| Grif inspects my race T and finisher's medal. |
It was, as expected, a near perfect day for a race. Temps were in the 50’s when I started out for the train station, and the forcast temp for the end of the race was low 70’s. Wouldn’t have minded a bit cooler, but after this summer, it seemed like a gift.
I took the train mainly because I was concerned about finding parking in Philly, and as I walked over I was wondering how many other people might have had shared my brilliant idea; I’ve seen the train platforms packed at odd hours and hoped it wouldn’t be standing room only. As it happened, it wasn’t all that bad, and to my very pleasant surprise, at the second stop, two folks from the dojo also boarded the train, headed to the race! The first was sensei’s wife, with whom I’ve done a few tris; she was headed over to watch her sister race: the second was the mom of a kid I’ve taught, who was actually running (the mom, not the kid). Made for a nice train ride and walk to the start.
I am not really big on getting to race events early and hanging out, waiting for the start. I find 1) there’s nothing to do, frankly, and 2) it’s usually too cold to just stand around in race clothes. 1 + 2 = a cold and bored me. So I usually try to time my arrival so that I just have time to drop off my gear, hit the (usually vile) jakes if necessary, and hit my corral running, so to speak, and I pretty much nailed it. The race actually officially started – meaning the elite runners started - while I was still in the potty line, but because I was in the 10th corral, my group would likely cross the start line a good starting a good ten minutes behind them. I was able to join the four or five minutes before we crossed the start line, and then we were off!
The first five miles or so went through center city, Philly. It’s been a while since I did a huge race and I seemed to recall rolling with the crowd usually got me off to an overfast start (I ran something like a seven and a half minute mile when I started the Marine Corps Marathon, WAAAAAY too fast for the likes of me); this particular crowd really didn’t seem to be blazing out of the start, but I just kept with the pack because there was really much room for maneuvering, and it didn’t really feel THAT slow. However, by the time I hit mile one, I could see it really was that slow, nearly a minute off my planned pace, and between the crowd and the narrowness of the streets, I figured I probably wasn’t going make up any significant time in the city, and immediately despaired of my hoped-for finish time. (This, in retrospect, was a Lesson Learned, but I’ll do those later.)
Somewhere around mile 5, the course headed out of the city and into Fairmont Park (right around when I hit this marker, the WINNER crossed the finish line, having complete the race in a hair over an hour – officially, 60:15). By this time the race had opened up a bit, and I was starting to feel pretty good, a feeling that, unfortunately, wouldn’t last all that much longer. However, around mile 6 I had a chance meeting with an acquaintance from my home town, someone I didn’t even know was a runner! We ran and chatted together briefly before parting ways, having had one of those neat, uplifting surprises. Shortly after that, though, the race went from fun to arduous work.
At around mile seven, my quads started to feel really tight and heavy, like they could cramp up at any moment. There was nothing in the race that prompted this – the course was pancake flat – and I didn’t have a clue at the time as to what the trouble might be. The quads had been bothering me for a couple of days prior to the race, but I attributed that to taper-related phantom pain, and nothing else. (I was wrong. Yet another Lesson Learned!) It was a weird place to be, mentally; I can honestly say I had no significant aches or pains anywhere during my training, so I had to wonder what on earth was up, and why was it just showing up then? I went to the side of the course and stretched for a moment and then pressed on, figuring that since nothing felt MECHANICALLY wrong, the worst that could happen would be that I’d get hauled in on the meatwagon, a cramped mess.
And that was the story of the last five, six miles of the race. Run, pause, stretch; run, pause, stretch. I don’t know if the pausing or the stretching, alone or in combination, helped, but I never did cramp up, and as I got closer to the finish line, I realized I actually wasn’t all that far off my goal pace, another very pleasant surprise. When all was said and done, finished only three minutes over my goal time of two hours! All things considered, and in light of the valuable lessons learned, I’ll take it.
I picked up my finisher’s medal and foraged through the runner’s food/snack area, then searched the support area – in vain, as it happened – for a massage tent. They usually seem to have them at tris, and I was surprised when I couldn’t find one at the race. But I did find a tent with some yoga mats, so I took full advantage of the opportunity to do a much more thorough stretch, which felt pretty darned good, then picked up my gear and started the trek back to the train station. And who did I run into before I was even out of the race area, but sensei’s wife! We had a nice walk back to the train together, and as predicted, I was home before noon.
So, the lessons learned: Lesson One, which I settled on a few weeks ago: As much as I hate letting a stopwatch dictate individual runs because I find it more or less sucks the life out of them, obsessing about a finishing time – which I WILL do if I publicly or privately share a race goal – sucks the fun out of training. So, henceforth, while I know I can’t prevent myself from mentally setting time goals, my stated goal will ALWAYS be to finish the event and have fun doing it. So there!
Lesson Two: Race starts are tricky things. I’ve been sucked into fast starts, and now mentally tripped up by a slow start. In truth, for these big races, it’s hard to really set your own pace at the start if you’re mid-pack; however, if it’s a LONG race, keeping reasonably close to pace at the start is probably fine. In particular, I know that I tend to really get rolling a few miles into a long run, and frequently finish running faster and easier than when I head out. So… I should have just gone with the beginning of this race, and not sweated the clock so much early on.
Lesson Three: When the training schedule says to do a 30 minute tempo run four days before the race, do a 30 minute tempo run. Do NOT go and run full out for half an hour because it’s a beautiful, cool morning and you feel like blasting away. Working the legs, and in this case the quads especially, that hard may leave them sore for a few days, and that half hour of fun MIGHT just come back to bite you on the ass during the race. D’oh!!!
Will I do that particular race again? I don’t honestly know. The half itself is a nice distance to run; I found training for a full marathon to be a part time job toward the end, and it was comparatively easy to keep a schedule that included weight training and a full karate load throughout the half training. In terms of foot traffic, at 15,000 people, Philly was big but not monstrous; while the start felt congested it opened up well enough later on, which was nice. As for the crowds – I have to admit, I was a little bit disappointed. I’ve heard this race compared to the Broad Street Run, which is basically a ten mile long, impromptu-feeling block party. Well, there really is no comparison; Broad Street has it all over the slicked-up Rock ‘n’ Roll half. I don’t really run FOR the crowds, but they make it a hell of a lot more fun; without them, I might as well just run 13 or however many miles around the neighborhood. In terms of travel, though, it doesn’t get much easier than a commuter train ride to do a race – so maybe I will be back some time in future.
And for my next trick, it’s on to the Dirty Bird, my inaugural trail race. Here’s to sane training!
I really enjoyed that, Kyra.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing