Every once in a while, you have a great race. Once in while, the weather is perfect, the course is fast and your body is rested, ready and willing. Once in a while you run the perfect race.
And then, every once in while, the conditions are perfect...but it is not meant to be.
I was looking forward to running a half marathon. It had been over a year since I raced one and I figured I was primed to break my personal record.
I tried not to think about the pain it would take to set a new PR as I ate pre-race oatmeal and laced up my lucky Inov8s.
I learned long ago the importance of a good warm up so I put in my time stretching out the legs and doing some striders.
I pushed my way to the front of the starting line.
Within seconds of the gun, I tucked comfortably behind the lead group. I didn't want to get sucked into someone else race but the pace felt manageable I was a little surprised to find myself in fourth place as we passed the first mile marker.
6:36. That was fast. But I didn't feel to horrible. I honestly didn't know what to expect. I was well rested, for a change, after a year of training for Ultras. I racked up more than 1700 miles last year but most of them were done at a slow pace. In December I set a new PR for my 5K time. But then again I really hadn't run a bunch since my 50 mile race in February. I figured the 6:36 pace wouldn't hold up for 13 miles but I would hold onto it as long as I could.
I found myself running alone. I could see two of the three runners ahead of me but they were about 100-150 yards ahead. Chances of catching them were slim but if I could just keep them in sight, they would pull me to a great time.
At three miles I knew this was my race. I still felt strong and was easily holding a 6.47 minute mile pace. I grabbed some water from my wife, who was working that water station, and carried on.
At about 5.5 miles I reached the turn around point. This course was a little different from most out and back courses in that you went out and back 5.5 miles and took a 2 mile detour on the way back to end up with the 13 miles of a half marathon.
As I did the turn around and headed back, I saw where I stood in the race. There were a few runners relatively close behind me, but not so close that I was worried about being passed. The leaders still had a good distance on me but I wasn't really running to catch them. I was racing myself and if I could hold on--I was about to smash my previous record.
I also saw several friends and fellow Striders as I turned around. I made it a point to cheer on the runners as we passed each other, often giving a high 5 or shouting words of encouragement. It would cost precious energy to call out and cheer them on, but there was an emotional high that came with trying to encourage others that I knew was worth the effort.
In no time, I was back at the water station. A huge group of runners was coming into the station, so I grabbed a cup of water to drink and one to dump on my head (it was warming up by now) and tore off down the road, rocking out to the music in my earphones.
I kept my pace strong and tried to find that balance between focus and oblivion where I could float along at a good pace with minimal effort. I stared at the sky and inhaled the fresh air.
It was a short time later that I came upon my wife's aid station again. I was still averaging a sub 7 minute mile pace but it required quite a bit more effort than when I last saw her. The kids slapped my five and handed me water. I hadn't seen the lead runners for a little while now and I was worried that my pace had dropped more than it should have.
I wasted no time at the water station but flew out barely gasping a quick "Thanx" as I followed the road.
It was then that I met my fate.
A large, white sign ahead read "10 Miles". I knew that I had not covered 10 miles at this point. I checked my Garmin--it confirmed. Something was terribly wrong. Panic flooded my brain...Surely not, I told myself, but the white sign ahead of me told no lies...I had missed a turn.
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| The Waco Striders hosted an Awesome race including face painting for the kis |
I spun around, expressed my feeling with some choice expellatives, and ran back up the road. I wasn't sure where the turn was that I had missed. A small part in my brain hoped it was only a short distance, that I could still make up the lost time and with only a small amount of extra effort stay on pace to break my PR.
Such was not the case. I had, in fact, run over a mile past the turn. There was no alternative than to run back ANOTHER mile and pick up where I went wrong.
Well, there was an alternative: drop out. Call it quits. Admit I messed up big time and throw in the towel. After all, there would be other races. Just because I quit one race, didn't mean I was quitter...right? Or I could have continued...I would have crossed the finish line LONG before the lead runners. The race director and others would most likely have known that I did not run full distance...I wouldn't have tried to lie about it...I'd still get a good work out--but I would not be able to count it as a half marathon finish. I would have to decline the finishers medal (if it was even offered)...
And that is NOT how we do things in Runner-land. I signed up to run a half marathon...and I was going to run every step of the course even if it meant running 2 extra miles to correct my stupid mistake. My PR was shot...not a chance in the world. So I should shrug off the effort, run a good half and look for another opportunity to break my PR.
But that is NOT how we do things...I might not break my PR. I might not place in my age group. I might go from being in 4th place overall to dead-freakin-last, but I would do it at race pace--which means ALL OUT!
By the time I reached the turn I had missed, the lead runner was back on the main part of the course, which meant I was about 2 full miles behind him. The second and third place guys were not far behind. All of the runners I had cheered on were now ahead of me (and cheered me on as I tried to pass them). I tried not to think about my folly but rather focus on keeping a strong pace and doing the very best I could.
My crew this day consisted of two beautiful butterflies and a ninja turtle.
With poured my soul into the race. Fighting to keep a strong pace. Garmin made little sense now as I glanced at the various numbers on the small screen. The sun was hot but the wind was strong. It's cooling sensation was nice but the cost was a substantial amount of effort to hold the pace in such a strong head wind.
The occasional dream of placing in my age group popped up...that I was somehow miraculously faster than the Olympic distance runners and could still break my PR weaved in and out. I tried to force such thoughts out before they could do any real damage. My reality was this: I messed up. I would be running at least 15 miles instead of 13. It would take every ounce of effort I could summon to hold a respectable pace and even then, would hurt a great deal before it was all over. Still, the optimistic side of my brain fought back, you've got a great pace going and it's not a really large field...you might do something amazing out here.
I ran on.
I passed the 10 mile marker for real this time. It felt as it the course was a solid up hill climb with the wind blowing against me.
Miles 11 and 12 came and went. I ran on. My legs felt like lead. Long hot spots burned on the edges of my feet. It's only pain, I told myself. My shoulders ached and my head was beyond reason.
Maybe I can still pull off a sub 2 hour time...I thought. I had long since lost the energy and capacity to do the math but it seemed like a reasonable quest. I decided to give it run (pun intended).
I rounded the last corner and knew the finish line was only about a quarter mile away. I pumped my arms and willed my exhausted legs to go faster. Even though it felt like I had been running through a pile of bricks, somehow they responded. I felt the spring in my step and leaned forward to let it carry me to the end.
I crossed the finish line in 1:52 something. Average pace was 6:47 for the first 3.4 miles and 7:37 for the next 11.7 miles. Had I not missed my turn, I would have turned out a 1hr 38min half marathon and beat my previous record by about 5 minutes...probably more because I could have gone faster without the added miles.
But, there's no use crying over missed turns and extra miles. I knew, when I crossed the finish line, that I was indeed a finisher. And that is how we do things around here.
Oh, and I did get 3rd place in my age group.
