The entire 26.2 miles can be summarized to this:
19 miles of awesome, 4 miles of terrible, and 3.2 miles of tolerable.
Those 4 miles... Only 4. And yet, they dictate my feelings about the entire race. So yeah, I didn't make my A goal (sub-3:50). I made the B goal (sub-4).
When I tell my friends about it, they think I'm being greedy and "that eternally dissatisfied" runner. After all, it was a PR. It was my A goal from Last Chance. Under 4 in itself is a major barrier that many marathoners aspire to.
But... I'm better trained. I have 11 months under my belt. It's the way it went down that bothers me. Up until Mile 20, I was on track to hit it under 3:50. At Mile 17 and 18 (2-3 miles after I usually begin to wither), I was feeling good. I smiled to myself and thought, you might really do this. And then... Mile 20 was where I lost my race.
I could not get my feet to move faster than a 10 min/mile pace. No matter how hard I tried. I tried to match my tempo with the cadence of a nearby, non-struggling runner. I tried to distract myself. I yelled at myself internally to get my slow ass together. It was the hardest 4 miles of the race and there was no way I could move myself faster. The worst of this interval was when I hit a 10:30 and felt helpless, sinking in my dismay, yet unable to do anything about it.
I have a lot of hypotheses about why I couldn't pull it together. The first, that my 10-10:30 min/mile training didn't permit my body to handle the kind of speed I commanded. The second, that the conditions - while most wouldn't object to - were ones to which I wasn't accustomed. Miles 18-26.2 were split between flat, road straightaways that seemed to stretch for miles and residential areas with curves. The roadside portion killed me psychologically. I didn't bring a hat with me and neglected to sunblock my face, so I felt the sun beating over my head on endless road... and felt like Wile E. Coyote, chasing a futile goal in the hot desert that never ends. As runner friend Ariel said, this segment just made you feel "heavy." Coupled with a strong headwind that I cursed in between consciousness of the situation. At mile 22-23, there was a notorious bridge that seemed to rise up to the skies. It looked steeper than it actually was, and I invited the challenge, but my body was too burned out to handle inclines. And finally, I probably should have eaten some heavy duty gu around mile 17.
I have a lot of lessons to learn from this marathon. As I'm nursing my sore quads, hamstrings, and glutes in this recovery week, I've been thinking of ways to tinker with my training. The first, I'm going to up my mileage. More tempos and short runs. Up from the 20-30 recommended by the program to 30-40+ as prescribed by the Higdon method. Second, long runs will be at an incrementally faster pace. Third, experiment with fueling strategies. There are lots of variables and there's tons of room for improvement. It's not over. I'm defeated, but only this time.
On the bright side, the first 13.1 of the race was beautiful. We ran through forests, trails, along the coast, in full view of the ocean, around residential areas filled with encouraging spectators. At almost every race since the Boston Marathon, I've gotten choked up thinking about how invaluable and amazing these supporters are. On the road of my personal hell, there was one sign that said "Smile if you're not wearing underwear" which made me immediately try not to smile, but the closer I got, I couldn't contain it. And then, the Fleet Feet Carrboro folks. Risa was there - for miles 5, 8, 21, and at the end. I saw Nikki at the end as well and seeing her happy face cheered me up through my pain.
So yes, there were so many good moments of this race that cannot be completely overshadowed by my disappointment. Oh, another - that I met two +Oiselle aficionados. One, I was staying with (I spotted her boatneck sweater and had to ask her where she got it from) and the second, a friend of Ellen's whose superfly cap and stride shorts prompted me to compliment her on her superior style.
So yes, another week. Another time away from running. Time to heal my legs and steel my heart.
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| Somewhere around Mile 8. I carried this semi-murderous "determined" look with me almost the entire race. |
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| Determination or murder? |
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| Nursing a gu - behavior rarely observed in this specimen. |
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| Painface of epic proportions: this is what it looks like to finish your last 200m at a 5 min/mile pace. |
Outerbanks Full Marathon
November 10, 2013
Kittyhawk, NC
Overall: 3:58:39
Pace: 9:07 min/mile
Field place: 243/1112
Gender: 73/482
Age group (30-34): 17/107
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