Race day arrived and it was FREEZING. The last time I ran this race, in 2010, the weather was in the 50s or 60s - pretty legit for the middle of March. When I woke up on Sunday my phone told me that it was 28 freaking degrees outside...um, no. I spent pretty much the entire morning trying to figure out what I was going to wear for the race. Capris? Undershirt? Armwarmers? High socks? After a very slow 10 minute warmup and peeing behind a random bush, I eventually decided on armwarmers and knee socks (knee socks which I have never worn to run in before; this will be relevant later). In retrospect I looked ridiculous, but whatever. I made it back to the car with a few of my teammates and it. was. COLD. And WINDY as all get out.
Semi-naked. Why are we doing this again??
The sheer number of people at the start made things a little bit better, but still, I was raring to get running so I could stop freezing to death. When the horn sounded, Brianna, Joy, and I took off together, but no sooner had we gotten out of the starting gate than I see Brianna flying through the air and landing with a thud on the ground next to me. What can you do in that situation? I looked back and she seemed OK, so I continued on alone (I later came to find out that she actually passed me at some point in the race and beat me by like 2 minutes. TROOPER!). Mile 1 - 6:54. Whoa, girl. I had been prepared for the first mile to be something ridiculous like that, though, so I focused on just relaxing and getting into a groove. There was something in my eye that was driving me absolutely insane, and when I went through the second mile in 7:14 I started to get concerned, because I didn't feel calm, or relaxed. I felt like crap at this pace, and the negative thoughts started swirling: oh, you KNEW this was going to be a disaster; this is what you get when you didn't train for the damn race! Idiot. Try and relax. Look at all of these people passing you. UGH, mile 2, and I already hate everything, this is awful. Not my finest hour mentally. Things didn't improve as we headed over the 3 increasingly large hills that led to THE hill just after mile 3. On the third buildup hill, I remember thinking that maybe this was the big hill...and then remembering for some unknown reason that there was a fence on the left side of the big hill...and this hill had no fence in sight. Between the surprise rollers and the fact that mile 3 came in at 7:24, a mental breakdown was imminent. The wind was in my face, my body felt tense, I just couldn't find a rhythm. Mentally, I was freaking out.
And then, straight ahead, was THE hill. At least half a mile of climbing up into the distance. I tried to reel in my unraveling mind with the only thing I could think of to hold on to: RELAX. I tried to relax. I tried to tell myself that the stream of people passing me were going out too fast. I tried to reassure myself that the race wasn't going to be won here, that I wasn't going to lose a PR because of a slower mile split on this hill, but I could if I let my mental game implode at mile 4. I finally came through the mile mark in 7:29 - I expected that split to be slow, but it was still a blow to my confidence. Still, I thought, if I just keep THAT pace for the rest of the race, I can still get a PR. And I also reminded myself that I was heading into the most glorious section of the course, a gentle downhill section stretching about 4 miles which on this day had the added bonus of a tailwind.
I told myself: CRUISE. The pack had started to spread out by this point, and I finally started passing some people, although others were passing me. But I was much calmer about that now - I suddenly felt light and free, and every time someone passed me who looked to be working a whole lot harder, I told myself that they would wind up coming back to me. In many cases, that turned out to be true. Mile 5 was a 7:08 - clearly quite the turnaround! Suddenly I felt completely relaxed and fabulous at this pace, and a tiny ray of hope started to peek through. Maybe this would be OK? Around this time, my brain also decided that it would be a good idea to start playing "Larger Than Life" by the Backstreet Boys on loop...I can't even think of the last time I listened to that song, so this was pretty random.
For the next few miles, I just locked in and let myself roll. I knew that at some point we were going to turn into the wind, so I was trying to make sure I wasn't trashing my legs before that happened. You know that they always say "trust your training", but in this race, there wasn't much there to trust. I had to hope that my legs were strong enough not to completely crash on me somewhere in this, the longest distance I had run in almost a year. Around mile 7 or 8, I started to realize that the side of my left foot sort of felt like it was...hot. Slash burning. I had a brief thought of "oh, shit, I shouldn't have worn these ridiculous socks, and I'm probably getting a blister there right now", but sort of put it out of my head until later.
We made the turn off of the downhill, heading along the water. The wind hadn't hit at it's hardest just yet, but there was definitely a change from 'ahh, gliding downhill' to 'OK, now you're going to have to work a little bit'. Still, coming through the 8 mile mark, I was still feeling great. If the wheels were going to come off it was going to happen soon, but I tried to keep myself in the moment and not worry about what was ahead. There was a little bit of an uphill at about 8.5, and I powered up it past 2 other women, duking it out on the hill. One again, I felt a little surge of excitement that I was RACING this thing - not just surviving, but actively seeking out other runners to pass. And it felt good.
Just after making the pass. Let's just take a minute to talk about how inappropriately dressed I am for a sub-40 degree day. To be fair...I wasn't cold after the first 2 miles of the race.
And then, it didn't feel good, because we made the turn into the wind, and HOLY SHIT. Not only was it freezing cold, but it was also straight into my face, and brutal. Again, I tried to calm myself down and get myself to relax. "Everyone else is running into this same wind," I told myself, "so shut up and get it done". We were at 10 miles now, and it was now or never. I still hadn't fallen much off the 7:08-7:10 pace, and with each passing split I became more shocked and giddy that somehow I was going to run a giant PR off of 25 miles a week. The pack was too spread out to really draft off of anyone, but I tried to tuck in as best I could behind the line of runners, hoping that maybe even a little bit of the wind would be blocked. After 2 brutal miles along the beach, during which I managed to only slow down into the 7-teens, we finally turned back into the city. 2 miles to go. By now, my legs were starting to ask what the hell was happening, and why we were still running. Mile 11-12 seemed to take an ETERNITY. I had somehow managed to isolate myself between 2 packs of people, and so it felt like I was running completely alone. And then, just after the 12 mile marker - THE hill.
My thoughts at this moment in time: FUUUUUUUUUUUU-you can fill in the rest
I kind of wanted to throw myself down in the road. AND I was utterly disappointed to find that there were no bagpipes at the crest of the hill this year. Having made it to the top, I thought that the worst was over...but the half mile that led to the finish seriously seemed to go on for an eternity. In my remembrance of the course, you basically ran up the hill, turned a corner, and it was downhill to the finish. But alas, in real life, there was about half a mile stretch of flat/slightly uphill road before that glorious downhill turn. I continued cursing the course, running in general, and the now-throbbing blister on my foot (as it turns out, it was a blood blister the size of like, 2 quarters) until I finally hit that downhill. And then...I'm pretty sure I flew past 10 people as I kicked into gear, knowing that I was FINALLY almost there. 1:35:03.
I definitely was happy when I crossed that line. Mostly happy to be done, happy I hadn't completely failed, and sort of in disbelief that I had just PR'd by 3 1/2 minutes. I mean, what? I knew that my half PR was sort of soft, but I couldn't have guessed that it was THAT far below what I was capable of, especially given my less-than-stellar training over the months (and honestly, years) leading up to this race. And of course, I wasn't COMPLETELY happy because I missed breaking 1:35 by 3 seconds. GAH. After the race, I quickly realized how incredibly cold it actually was, so I found my teammates and we headed back to the car to grab our gear. On our way, I ran into Kelly! My first running buddy in Boston, my mentor who got me into marathons - and I haven't seen her in years! I attempted to cool down with Joy, Anna, and Brianna, but after about half a mile of hobble jog/walking, I gave up and went to catch up with Kelly instead. We grabbed seafood chowder and chatting - so nice to see her again after so long!
After the race we headed to a local bar ("Phlanges?" was what we heard over the phone, actual name of the bar: Sliante)...it was St. Patrick's Day, after all! And so I enjoyed a porter and basked in that PR glow.
Post race celebrations: basically the only reason we run. PS, those are not our medals from the race, but random beads that we were given at the bar.
It was a great day, overall. But the most ridiculous part of the day was yet to come...because as soon as I got back to Boston, I'll give you one guess as to where I was headed. I'll give you a hint: it involved dancing for 2 hours straight. That's right, we had our first full runthrough with the band for Heartbeat! And really, what better way to cap off a half marathon PR than dancing?
New Bedford Half Marathon - 3/17/13
New Bedford, MA