Fundamental failure

I had an opportunity to run a great half marathon this morning and I blew it by not being aware of where I was less than three minutes into the race.

I took Thursday off when I came home from work feeling exhausted. I ran a solid 10 miles the next morning on the Steelers loop at 6:28 pace. Got to sleep kind of early, then up at 8 Saturday to do a Fisherman's loop. The trip to Philadelphia with Dart, then the Millers, went smoothly, as did the packet pickup and dinner. I got to bed at nine, slept well until five, and felt great when I got up and warmed up to the start. I jogged a bit with Drea, Dart and the Butcher of Damascus, then waded around in the maroon corral (who was it who kept pronouncing it "coral" last year?).

After an unexplained delay, we got started. I had a significant blockade of women in the way, so I swung out to the right to get around them, but I was somehow behind some stupid little guy with his hair sprayed to look like an eyetalian flag. I caught up to a pack of dudes and settled in, and felt nothing out of the ordinary. I saw Wager, so I inched up to him and whispered "send 'em" and we exchanged a quick five. I slide back a little, and suddenly saw the first mile mark and looked at my watch- 5:02. JESUS H. CHRIST.

I immediately dropped back, terrified of the hole I had dug for myself. But in dropping back, I was firmly putting myself in no-man's land between the fast half-marathoners and the marathoners. This wasn't a situation like the GMU 5k, I made the right move in not trying to run with them. There were just so many guys up there, I didn't think they could all be running the half- I figured the majority of guys would be running the full to run 2:18. My plan was to just sit in a pack with them and cover real estate. I literally had no idea how fast I was running inthat first mile. I thought I might be cold and stiff from standing in the corral for so long and 5:17-5:19 was that fast. So, I ran by myself for four miles. 5:17, 5:19, 5:23, 5:31. I was pretty much on my five-mile goal time, but I got there the wrong way.

The group of guys chasing sub 2:19 passed me and I maybe hung on for 30 seconds, but I was tying up already. I hit another 5:31 and a 5:25 on a long straight. A pair of guys gapped me briefly, but I reeled them in and pulled away from them on a long uphill in mile eight, which I hit in 5:43. I was alone most of nine, hit that in 5:40, and thought I had a chance to at least match my 10 mile PR (54:24) with my 10-mile split, though my original pacing plan would have been more than 90 seconds ahead. Nope. Long uphill, mostly by myself, though I saw three guys in red ahead of me. Then, running down the road, with no pothole, my left ankle gave out and I yanked the hell out of it. I came though the 10th mile in 5:54, 54:50-- my second-fastest 10 mile, but not by much, and at this point, I consider my 10 mile PR to be my second softest, after the marathon.

The 11th mile was almost all downhill, but with my ankle probably sprained, I could bear only a 5:31. I came across a 180 turn, which, for some reason, this marathon/half-marathon had. That's ok in a little community 5k, but not in a metropolitan marathon, that's just lazy and unimaginative. I saw Curt Larimer, who I figured was doing the marathon, but did the half. Baressi passed me and I quietly encouraged him, but I was toast by this point. He was running the full, and him passing me was rough--he's very talented, but I should have been well ahead of most guys running the full marathon. I tried to hang, but it wasn't happening.

I thought maybe, with an 11-mile split of 1:00:21, I could keep things together for a pair of 5:30s and at least get in under 1:12. Nope. 5:48, 6:24 with the .1, and I lost ground to a guy in red in the last half mile. As it turned out, I had a healthy (90+) second lead over him at Freedom's Run.

It was just poorly done all around. One of the 13 splits was right. One was 15 seconds fast, the others were all slow. I was disappointed, but more embarrassed that such a stupid mistake, such unbridled enthusiasm led to my downfall. I was, for a while, a cockeyed optimist, thinking I could still run sub-5:20s on my own after a 5:02, but no. I tied up more and more as the race went on, and the last three miles, after stumbling, my calves got extremely tight, and following that, my shins. When I finished the race, I couldn't jog over to watch the marathoners go by.

Scott dropped out when I saw him, cramps forcing him to confront the misery of trying to push throug 13 more miles. We walked around, got some dry clothes and watched the finish. I saw Greg Byrnes, Brandon G., Michelle M., Dart, the Burhams, Mindy S., Katie Sheedy, Sam Howard (who qualified by a few seconds), and Jeff, though apparently I missed Cavanaugh, and left 30 secondds before Ali Belicose came by. I went back to the hotel, took a hot bath, packed and met the GRC people for a few minutes before Michelle Corkum and Andy picked me up. Michelle was eyeing a trials qualifier, having run 2:48 in LA earlier this year, but a last-minute cold left her feverish, achy and miserable and she dropped out at 13. Emily Ward thinks she broke her heel, and she was out at 14. Michelle M. felt the race slip away early and was out of it. Drea PRed in the half, and Dart PRed by more than six minutes, though she wanted to be two minutes faster. No men qualified, Kevin Pool once again coming close. In the marathon, the only person I think who made it was Sam Howard-- Liz Graham's protoge.

That all goes to demonstrate two things- Philadelphia is a hard course, and qualifying for the olympic trials is hard. As it should be. It's not something you can do on a lark, as a girl I met last year seemed to think when she said she and her sister were going to do it. You need to know exactly what you'll be dealing with as the race goes on, and I am positive that means overdistance training, a 30-mile long run. That all said, Hallinan and Blood ran under 1:05 in the half, which was pretty good.

That's disappointment right there

I rode in the backseat of Michelle's car, heading to Pittsburgh, knowing I let a great fall's worth of training, along with the summer full of misery while building my base, go to waste because I didn't figure out where a half-mile marker was so I could be sure I was going out appropriately. Part of what appealed to me about the race was that the marathon and half started together and shared the course for almost 13 miles. That seemed great to me, because I could run with Karl -- he'd have a good feel for the pace, and I could keep him company, help with the pace and he'd keep me calm. When he fell ill, the first thing I should have done was ensure that I had landmarks to check my pace, because I wouldn't know who was running 5:17s otherwise. It was simple preparation, and it was just as imporatant as the long runs, the track workouts, the moderate runs and progressions. A 5:02 mile, when I wanted to be runninr 5:17s, was devastating. I sat in the car, which was way too warm, wondering if I got too excited about club nationals after Richmond and lost focus, or if my heart went out of it when I found out Karl wouldn't be running--maybe I wanted to take responsibility for helping him out so I wouldn't focus on how easy it is to give up.

To be clear, I don't think I gave up, I think given what I did in the beginning miles, dealing with wind along the Delaware River in mile three, plus the trauma I put my legs through in mile nine, I was going about as fast as I could. And, in the end, I was 16 seconds off my PR. I should be happy that considering how much went wrong in several phases of the race, that I was a little more thana second per mile off my PR, but I just can't be happy with it. I was ready for more, much more, than I accomplished today. That PR, which I set when I was sick ,running alone in a cocurse that barely had a mile of flat stretch, let alone the 6.5 this had, in the rain, was from the hard 13-mile run Steve prescribed, it was more a time trial than a race, and I picked that course over Buffalo Creek because I wanted to be sure Philly wouldn't be harder and I would run faster if all went well. Getting congratulatory messages from well-wishers was tough, because if they took the time to care, I wanted to give them something worth seeing when the looked up my results.

Madeline suggested I peaked too early. Absolutely not, I feel like my training was spot on, but I just made the dumbest mistake possible, one that I had several opportunities to prevent, and the regret I feel going forward and the missed opportunity will go a long way toward ensuring I don't do it again. It will also haunt me until I take another crack at the half, probably in Pittsburgh. It starts on Thursday with the Gutbuster. As Mike Tomlin, whose quotations I relish for his locution, said after some boneheaded playing cost a few games in 2009, I'm about to unleash hell. That second loop is toast.

The fall is by no means a failure, I ran a great, strong race on my own at Freedom's Run and fough pretty hard in Richmond. If I had a blase attitude at all toward the race because I was looking ahead to nationals, well, time to seriously focus on that. It's a chance to make up for my failings in Philly.

My drinking problem

If you have run with me, especially in the summer, you know I sweat. A lot.

Try as I might, even though I felt the heat itself was more of a problem than hydration in Chicago, I need to streamline my in-race drinking.

My digestive system isn't great, and soon after I drink pretty much any time, I usually need to burp badly. When I finish running, I usually gulp water, and have way too much. I'm clearly not going to drink that much during Marine Corps, but it's still an issue.

For the last few weeks I have been working on drinking while running. To an extent, it has been easier. Initially I just tried to drink from bottles halfway through my runs.

Howard gave me some advice on drinking while running:

It was hard to get used to at first and felt weird running with a gut full of fluid, but it passes quickly and you get back on pace. You HAVE to get more than just what you can get in a cup and a few sips. Lots of bad marathons have been blamed on heat, pace, poor training, when they were actually due to not enough fluid.
It's like Survivor when they say "on the island, fire represents life." In a marathon, fluid represents life. Get used to getting fluid into you. All that other stuff including the heat can be blamed on not enough fluid.
You gotta get used to training with it or race day is a bad day to experiment...
I once ran a 70 second 400 while drinking a 16oz bottle of Gatorade just as a joke because I was doing my 12X400 workout in front of the VT track team one day. But that's the kind of comfort you have to develop with drinking or its gonna be tough all the time.

My 10 mile run through the New Virginia Manor loop went well on the Tuesday of week two. On Wednesday I practiced drinking while running around 5:40 pace on the MCM course on Hains Point with 60 second recoveries- 5:39,5:29,5:27. Way too fast. Thursday I ran out the W&OD to Gallows Road and back to the Reacharound on a reverse Fineview Park. Friday I ran about 12 miles around Hains Point and the Mall, getting a few miles of the MCM course in. Saturday morning I ran about 11.5 with the GRC guys, including a minor detour. Sunday I slept in and didn't run until the evening. It was a lot warmer in the evening than it had been in a while, and though I started well, 3.5 miles in, I was dizzy. I turned and came home, I think that was the beginning of me getting sick. I took Monday off, Tuesday I did an easy eight, a partial reverse Pimmit Hills. Still dizzy.
Wednesday I forced myself to run another dress rehearsal on the track. Among several different workouts, I averaged 5:39s, grabbing five cups of Gatorade along the way. It wasn't good, I'd much prefer to use water bottles, but it will have to do.

The cold is beating me. The swamp of a field in the middle of the B-CC track was alive with mosquitos, and one bit my head. The bite ballooned into a gigantic lump on the edge of my right temple.
Thursday was yet another day of dull illness. I decided to take the day off of running, have some Benedryl when I got home and here I am, trying to finish this before I pass out.

Right now I'm not feeling too great about this marathon. I think trying to go under 2:30 is out of the question- I have been pretty much tapered for five weeks now, which is way too long. I'm miserably sick. So, I guess I will take it easy. I hope nobody shoots at us.
I get to see Richmond race at Schenley Park on Saturday before coming back for the marathon.

I'm starting to pass out, so I should stop writing, even though I know I haven't written much of importance. This is cool, though I rarely run on that trail. Also, this is a good series of reasons why I don't feel much confidence with GPS watches.

I run when I want to run

I am getting a better feel for the tapering process now. I am sleeping more, which is nice. I am starting to relish the freedom that comes with lower mileage. It's bittersweet in that it's right when the weather is starting to turn for the better in my eyes- I love October and fall in general.

Friday I started a run with Alex, and he said we were somewhere under 6:30 for a while. We parted ways after almost four miles and I ran the rest of a Presidents' loop

alone, picking it up to average 6:15, with a half mile at 5:40 pace thrown in.

Saturday morning I did an Earnst loop with Murphy, it was sunny with a slight chill. I picked up a pair of Adizero Adios. Everybody says to not wear new equipment to a marathon, but after trying those shoes on I knew I had to make them happen. I wore them around the house and when I did errands on Saturday (after a three-hour nap) and broke them out for my last longish run Sunday.

The last time I wore shoes in the Adizero line for the first time, I ran 14:57 for 5k. I don't want to say such a race will happen again based just on the coincidence that I have new shoes, but I do have great affection for adidas racing flats.

Sunday, I added onto a Fineview Park with the second part of a Westmoreland for 13 miles at 6:28 pace,

with the first seven miles at 6:15 pace. It felt ridiculously easy. At this point running will just serve to maintain my metabolism and keep my weight down. I am looking forward to sleeping a lot in the next few days.

Until then, I will take two tips from Randy Moss- make some smoothies and run when I want to run, just as he plays when he wants to play.

The rush of self-doubt and withdrawl

With less than two weeks until Chicago, it seems prudent to curtail my running in preparation for the marathon. I am not crazy about this, because I have come to be dependent on the exercise that has so dominated my life for most of the last year, though it really only kicked up in late June. I haven't slept well, and I resent the short runs I do, but know that I won't be able to add much to my marathon readiness at this point. Oddly enough, I feel a lot less prepared for Chicago than I did for Marine Corps, which is positively absurd, given that I acted like a total clown before Marine Corps, insisting on not doing any long runs or hitting more than 70 miles a week until Hans insisted I do 20 for my own health.

I followed the miserable race with an equally miserable 5.5 miles around the National Harbor Saturday evening. I was volunteering at the finish festival of the Ragnar relay race to support the RUN LOVES. It was pretty darned hot by the time I arrived, though the trip itself was a pain- two metro lines, one of which was offloaded two stops away from the bus I had to catch and ride for a half hour to get to the harbor. I ended up running laps around a gravel parking lot near the river and exploring an undeveloped but excavated hillside. The volunteer coordinators sent Joanna and me off to a parking lot, where we had few instructions, so I rejected as many people as I could. Eventually we turned our stuff in and left.

Sunday morning, I slept in a bit before heading out for my last long run. Alex was supposed to join me for seven miles, but he was a little baby and slept in. So, I headed out in the rain. I carried a bottle half filled with solid ice and half with water until the four-mile mark and left it there and wasn't too into the run, but miles five through 11 went swimmingly. Shortly after mile 12, I started to get depleted, and it made sense, given my lack of breakfast. I started to worry, especially because I couldn't find Wolftrap Road, which was supposed to take me back through to Gallows Road. I ended up winging it at eventually heading down Follin and Electric, but right about when I passed the finish line from the Navy Federal 5k, a little more than 13 miles in, I felt sudden dread and didn't want to go on. I was several miles from home, so I had to. I just continued on my route until I found my water bottle. I scarfed down a Gu and had some water and dutifully followed the route I had regained. A few minutes later, when I hit the W&OD, I felt much better. Carrying the water was a pain, but I now had half-mile marks to guide me. I hit 6:20 for the next mile with a slight slowdown at the top of the hill climbing the overpass for I-66, then took the next mile, with a road bisecting the mile, and I finished in 5:52. I cut one of the loops from the course that would have made it 20, so I wasn't too happy with 1:57 for what I thought to be 17 miles- it would make my average pace 6:52. When I remeasured, however, I found it to be 18.2 miles, a much more palatable 6:25 pace.

I figured out my optimal fueling schedule for Chicago- eight miles, 15 miles, 20 miles. That is a big step. It might somewhat interrupt when I am getting in a good groove, but it will prevent those deep chasms from forming, like I saw after 13.

Monday I just ran an easy 5.1 around Capitol Hill, sweated like crazy with a lot of humidity.

Tuesday I ran 8.1 at 6:20 pace on Westmoreland.

Wednesday I went to the track for a light workout, felt a little light-headed. Did a mile in 4:58 behind Dickson and Wiggy, felt okay, after 300 meters of the second one, I thought to myself, "I don't want to run fast anymore," so I stopped and jogged the rest.

It was pouring Thursday morning, so I didn't run to work. Then I decided in the middle of the day to take a break.

I spent Friday morning waiting for results from the Paul Short invitational in Bethlehem, Pa. Richmond's men's team was opening its season there, and I was eager to see what the guys could do after hard summer training and being cooped up for the first month of the semester. After hours of refreshing the meet website and Steve's Twitter feed, I saw some good things: a sixth place finish, with a 3-6 by Andrew Benford and Matt Llano, with Tim Quinn in 24th (23:52, 24:01, 24:31). Levi Grandt was a little ill, coming in 89th (25:09) and Chris York coming in 13 spots back, despite trailing by only three seconds.

More than nine inches of rain fell before the race, and I believe it was still raining when the gun went off, though Molz didn't think the course was affected too much, though I don't think he was there to see how bad it was. They ran both open races first, so that certainly chewed up the course a little. Roads were flooded going into Lehigh's campus, so I believe our men got a ride from the Columbia team. Pat Barkhuff was there, and he said the rain during the race wasn't overwhelming. After watching the race video, however, I saw a pretty ugly course at some points. Lots of water on the course, a 90-degree turn in ankle deep water, etc. It was definitely slower than usual. Pretty much everything I saw after the 5k mark looked sloppy.

Our top three are outstanding- Benford, Llano and Quinn are all running soldily and equipped themselves well throughout the race. The glut of finishers started around 62nd place- at 25:00- 60 men finished in the space of 20 seconds. Unfortunately, two were our fourth and fifth finishers. Hopefully this reminder of just how brutally tight big races are will be a wakeup call for Levi and York. Ryan Lee had a decent collegiate 8k debut- he's seeing what racing is all about and will be better prepared for Pre-Nationals in two weeks. Skipper, well, I don't know much about Skipper. Jon Wilson raced again.

I'll close by paraphrasing what Steve told us after the 2003 William and Mary Invitational.

"That's what racing's all about guys, the unknown. What happens when you push yourself when it's all on the line? You don't know, but you need to know what you're made of. You can start off great, but you need to be ready to push when you get to the late stages of the race. It's like the Doors' song- you break on through to the other side. You look at the gateway of miles four and five and it's dark, you don't know what's in there, but then second you step in, all the lights come on and you're in for a fight, but you know..."

Then I started rubbing the back of TC Booyeah's thigh with the two navel oranges I had in a bag that I stuffed in my pants.