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.
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.
 |
| The Waco Striders hosted an Awesome race including face painting for the kis |
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.
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.
I feel your pain, bro. But way to stick with it. It's easy to read about someone finishing a race strong after getting off course but it's a whole different ball game when you're the one doing the work. Good job.
ReplyDelete