White Mountains Olympic Triathlon Race Report

On Saturday I competed in my first Olympic distance triathlon, and I think it's safe to say that I've been bitten hard by the triathlon bug. Running will always be my first love, but over the past couple of years I've frequently found myself frustrated with the training/competition side of it, frequently finding myself feeling like I was putting in a ton of effort with very little to show for it on the race course (or at least, not as much to show for it as I felt there should be). Out of this ennui, combined with some colleagues who were either intrigued or already fully entrenched in the triathlon life, came the idea to finally jump into the sport of triathlon for real. I did a sprint like 10 years ago at the behest of my then-boyfriend, now husband, and I relit the spark last year with another sprint, but I had never fully committed to a longer distance race that would actually require, you know, training! A wetsuit! Actual bike shoes! I signed up for this Olympic race all the way back in November, knowing full well that it's known as one of the most challenging courses around, and hoping that I would like triathlon in practice as much as I did in theory. My boldness paid off in one of the most truly fun race experiences I've ever had (it also didn't hurt that I blew my expectations out of the water). I loved every second of this experience and I absolutely can't wait to do it again. 

We stayed over in North Woodstock the night before the race with my friend Elise, who was racing, and her boyfriend, and race morning was a giddy wave of trying to make sure I had everything (so. much. equipment.) and figuring out where to go and what to do. The organizers of this race do an absolutely outstanding job and everything ran super smoothly from start to finish, including the WEATHER which was absolutely perfect...sunny, dry, and 60s. If I were doing a longer road race I'd have been alarmed at that forecast, but knowing I needed to go swimming and then ride my bike while wet first? 60s sound great to me. Elise and I were both balls of ridiculousness and I'd like to think our significant others were entertained. Time seemed to fly by with getting our bibs, putting on number tattoos, setting up transition, using the porta potty (my nervous peeing was less of a concern at a triathlon because of that whole swim thing....TBH it was amazing), and finally heading down to the beach to await the swim start!

My sherpa on a glorious morning

Number tattoos are EXCITING and we are NORMAL

Transition area all set up

At the beach we did a quick dive in to sample the water temperature and then anxiously awaited the start. I was literally more excited than I think I have ever been before a race - it was just such an incredible morning and I couldn't wait to swim in this beautiful place and then just see what the rest of the day would bring. I felt such joy and gratitude to have this opportunity and I wanted to enjoy every single second. At one point I just awkwardly jumped in the air and slapped my legs and yelled "I'm SO excited to swim in this lake!" and somehow Elise and I are still friends, so I guess she was entertained. The pre race meeting brought some depressing news: there was roadkill on the bike course and it was a MOOSE :( :( :( This was sad but also kind of hilariously ironic, as one of my life dreams is to see a moose in the wild. Elise mentioned that this was like a fairy tale where you get 3 wishes but you mess up the wording somehow and so it comes out totally dark and twisted...thankfully, I think things must have been cleaned up by the time we actually got out there, because I didn't see anything.

Here's a picture of me at the swim start. You can tell it's me because I'm the giant loser in the front row bending down to look at the minnows in the water, bahahaha. 

After a couple of waves went off ahead of us, it was time to head down to the water and get rolling. At 8:39 the horn sounded, and we were off! 

AM Fuel: Peanut butter banana Clif Bar ~2 hours before race, banana ~1 hour before race, lemon-lime Gu (no caffeine) ~20 minutes before start

1500 m swim: 32:40 (1:30/100yd) - 3rd in AG, 11th female, 43rd OA

This was my first swim without a time trial start, but with a staggered group start (all women under 40 in my case), I wasn't too worried about getting caught in the washing machine at the beginning. After running a few feet into the brisk 59 degree water, I saw everyone in front of me and decided it was time to do the same. The water was BRISK - I swear they announced at the start that it was 65 degrees but my face told me otherwise...it was cold! I knew that once I could find a rhythm I'd get used to it and sure enough, after a couple of minutes it was no longer an issue. It was definitely more challenging to sight the buoys and find open water than I'd planned on, but I feel comfortable enough in the water that it was easy to just stay calm and find a lane. Once I got in the zone, I was in the zone! I definitely could tell that I was swimming harder than usual, and I got a little nervous initially because my arms were feeling fatigued pretty early on, but it never really got any worse and so I just fell into my rhythm and stayed there. By the time I got to the first buoy the pack had separated out nicely and I had plenty of open water to swim in. Around this same time my goggles started fogging up, which initially I could deal with but I eventually had to stop for a second and de-fog them as I literally couldn't even see the buoys, let alone the people from the waves ahead that I was starting to pass, and I couldn't handle another full lap in that state. The second lap I basically just spent the entire time thinking about how much I loved being out in the water (and intermittently about the fact that I was hungry and looking forward to my stroopwaffel in transition...), trying to soak in the beauty around me every time I sighted, and just enjoying the feeling of powering through the water. These sound like ridiculous things to be thinking in the midst of the race, but I honestly knew I was swimming just as fast as I could and that was going to be good enough. Soon enough I was gliding through the shallows, and then up and running up the ramp to transition! I apologize to the little girl holding out her hand for high fives on the ramp, I really WANTED to high five you but my hands were busy trying to unzip my wetsuit and claw off my swim cap, so I hope my smile was enough!  

Andrew's view of the swim from up on the bluff. Is this even real life?

T1: 1:57

I feel like this transition was sort of slow, partly because I had never practiced doing it quickly and partly because I was TIRED after the swim and at one point I feel like I was just sort of staring at the ground in a daze pondering what I needed to do haha. My wetsuit came off pretty easily, and I was able to get my socks and bike shoes on in reasonable time. I think my biggest struggle here was that I attempted to eat a stroopwaffel, which was extremely dry and just was not going down smoothly...I could barely swallow it without water and after awhile I decided to just stop wasting time and shoved the thing in my back pocket to eat once I was on my bike. Helmet, sunglassess, life sorted...OK, off to the bike!

Fuel: 1 honey stinger stroopwaffel (ate 1/2 in transition and finished in the first couple miles of the bike)

Still trying to swallow a stroopwafel, probably.

40K bike: 1:26:17 (17.3 mph) - 1st in AG, 14th female, 67th OA

The bike was by far the event that I was most nervous about, as well as where I felt I had the most to lose in terms of time/places. Between the outrageously difficult course, my minimal training on large hills, and my beginner's knowledge of shifting between chain rings (seriously, I learned how to do it 2 days before the race), I knew that the bike was likely going to be a "hold on and do the best you can" sort of scenario. But as it turns out, like everything else in this race...it was a blast! The course started with an enormous, 3 mile long 10% grade downhill, and while I was initially terrified of this I got over it quickly and enjoyed flying down the hill like a kid on a sled, giving my legs a break and trying to get my heart rate down. Unfortunately, when a course starts with a zillion feet of elevation drop, and it's a loop course...there's pretty much only one place that you get to go from there. And that place is UP. 

As soon as we stopped going downhill and I actually had to start pedaling, my legs felt pretty crappy. Looking back I think I'll just chalk this up to the confusing transition between swimming and biking, and that it took my legs awhile to catch up. It probably also didn't help that almost everything that looked like it was "flat" on this course was, in fact, going uphill at some rate or another. And I mean, going up large, long hills on a bicycle is hard AF. I don't want to understate the fact that it was so hard, and I would love to get stronger on the bike so that I can go faster! But the sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, I was out on my trusty bike named after a dragon, and sooner rather than later I started actually making some passes. Life. Was. Perfect. We hit a nasty uphill, and after dropping to my small chain for the first time, I immediately passed 2 men. What! While I did get passed by a few men (and two women) on the bike, they were all exclusively on downhills and by people riding very fancy, very expensive bikes. And you know, you can't do anything about that. We rode through a cute little town where people were out cheering, and I was having such a lovely time that I smiled and thanked basically every single person I saw. My legs still didn't feel outstanding, but I didn't care - everything was amazing. At some point I made a poor choice of trying to eat some Gu chomps while starting an uphill and basically lost all of my momentum while also trying not to choke - note to self, uphills are not for fueling. 

Then we hit mile 10. And oh my sweet summer child....I learned later that this hill is called "3 mile hill" and you'll NEVER GUESS why they call it that...this thing was an absolute monster. It was so monstrous as to be comical. And so, I said (out loud) such things as: "well, at least we're by a little stream!" and "we're all in this together" (sung from High School Musical). It was uplifting to look ahead and realize that EVERYONE was going the exact same slow as molasses pace as me - in fact, in a shocking turn of events, I passed 3 people during the hill. As I rode past one woman, I had the odd urge to apologize to her for passing her on the hill? Instead I think I blurted out "IS THIS EVER GOING TO END". This hill and my baby ring were my life now, and all I could do was keep chug chug chugging up to the top. 

FINALLY we hit the crest, and were rewarded with a downhill with the "trucks could go off the road"/steep grade sign. As it turns out I enjoy just talking to myself while on my bike, because once again, aloud, I said "I'm gonna enjoy the SHIT out of this grade!" And I did! And then another hill loomed. And once again, I started singing: "Hi ho, hi ho, back to small chain we go!" What....is wrong with me lol. Basically once we hit the halfway point of the bike I turned into some kind of giddy ball of happy energy. The views off into the mountains were just incredible, and I just found myself in such a place of awe and gratitude for this gift of being able to do what I was doing. I am not normally someone who gets super sappy mid race, but here in my happy place doing this ridiculous but wonderful thing on the most gorgeous day, I just felt so, so grateful. At one point I sang out again "I f*cking love this downhill, I f*cking LOVE MY LIFE!". It was a lot. The endorphins were extremely high, is all I can say about that. 

Eventually, after a stretch on a kind of crappy road (but that was also the "flattest" section of the course), we made a right hand turn onto a larger highway - beautiful, smooth pavement....and also the thing I had been pretty much dreading - 9 miles of gradual uphill with no relief until the finish line. My initial thought was oh shit, 9 miles is a looooong time for my quads to tolerate what's going in right now. But then I forced myself to find a rhythm, locked my eyes on the blue and black trisuit of the dude in front of me, and just pedal on. I got a song with a good beat in my head and again, because apparently when I'm alone on a bicycle I just lose all semblance of a filter, started singing: "Oh baby, come on and say it now, just let the words come out, tell me you love me..." A couple of men on tri bikes passed me during this stretch but quite frankly, who cared about the men. Me and blue and black #242 also started playing a little bit of leapfrog, as I oddly found myself channeling some level of competitive energy. On my bike! I was definitely thinking a bit about how I might be screwing myself for the run by pushing as hard as I was, since I could definitely feel quite a bit of fatigue building in my quads and calves. However, I sort of figured that with the absurdly hilly course that fatigue was going to be there no matter what - no sense in holding back. 

 This is insane in all of the best ways

The very end of the bike was on sort of an obnoxious bike path, and with 2 miles to go I was very much ready to be off of my bike. I finally became annoyed by my friend #242 who had passed me again, so I passed him and another gentleman before finally making the turn back into transition. Being back on the road and knowing I has made it through the bike was SO exciting - I knew that I had outperformed my own expectations, and all that was left was a 4 mile run...a tough 4 mile run, to be sure, but finally an arena where I knew would be my time to shine!

Fuel: 2 x 2 Tropical Gu chomps (150 calories + some caffeine), 16 oz 50-50 mix of Glacier Freeze Gatorade and H20

T2: 1:24

My brain was slightly more on in T2 although I definitely did a very inefficient job of racking my bike - things to practice for next time! It felt like I was there for much longer than I was and people definitely do this transition much faster (this was actually my slowest overall placing!) so I think transitions are definitely an area where I could use some practice/work. Shoes switched, hat on, run belt donned, grab a Gu, we're outta here!

4.25 mile run: 33:22 (7:46 pace) - 1st in AG, 4th woman, 28th OA

I could summarize the run in one sentence: running off the bike, especially a bike with 1800 ft of elevation gain, IS REALLY HARD. But as I ran out of transition I had a smile on my face. The greatest thing about running in a triathlon is that it allowed me to completely ignore my pace and run 100% for place and competition. I knew that anyone who was behind me at this point in the race was unlikely to pass me, and also that this was my opportunity to make some moves after the bike. My plan was very straightforward: just keep moving, and make as many passes as you can. The first mile is somewhat downhill, and while I felt like a noodle I just bopped along, eyeing up the people in front of me. There was another woman about a minute up who I definitely thought that I could pass, otherwise all of the nearby competitors were men. I hit mile 1 in 7:09, which I was pretty happy with, but I also knew that I'd been running downhill and that probably wasn't going to be sustainable (ding ding ding, correct answer!) But who cares - the name of the game is keep moving forward.

Smiling! And also...beauty!

The remainder of the run course absolutely sucks, but knowing all I had to do was run 3 miles to finish seemed so easy compared to what I had done during the prior too hours that I was able to keep myself in a really positive head space throughout the entire run. I knew I wasn't running fast at all - probably closer to "moderate" run pace than any pace I'd ever race 4 miles at - but it was such a great feeling to just not care about that, because all I could do was give it as much as I had after the bike. The really awful section of the run is an out and back over multiple short but extremely steep inclines and declines, and having passed my first prey I started hunting down other women who seemed close enough to pounce on. There was another woman within sight and I could tell that I was gaining ground on her, so my new objective became: just pass that woman. I also started counting women as it began to dawn on me that I was much closer to the front of this race than I was to the back! We ran down a huge hill to the turnaround, where I nearly knocked a sign over hitting it as I made the turn, and then climbed back up to the bike path. It was slow going up anything steep with my quads that had been annihilated by the bike and were begging for mercy, but I was able to keep on moving forward. I managed to get past my new target on an uphill, and it was a nice feeling to know I was unlikely to see her again...unlike in road races, no one is really picking it up for the last mile of a triathlon! It was certainly an unusual sensation for me - cardiovascularly, I felt like I was out for an easy jog, but muscularly my legs just had nothing to give. Clearly, this is an aspect of the bike-run transition that I could stand to work on. 

I dunno, why wouldn't this be fun?

We crossed back to the other side of the highway and began a little looping section that's the "flattest" part of the run course. I passed a guy here who was cramping up and tried to offer him some encouragement as I went by. I was running pretty damn slowly at this point, 7:45-7:55 (if you'd asked me I would have guessed 9 minute miles, that's how sloggish it felt) but I was still having a blast - in fact, at one point I passed a volunteer who said something like "alright, still smiling!" and I was like "actually yeah, I'm having an amazing time!". I knew the last mile of the run was an absolute bear, but I also knew all I had to do was climb the hill of gravel, then climb the hill into the parking lot, and I was going to absolutely crush this thing. I slogged up the half mile gravel hill, cursing whoever decided it wasn't worth it to pave this section of road on the ski hill. I managed to pass another man as I willed myself to the top of the hill. Every uneven section and little pothole and muddy rock felt like a complex problem that my legs were having a harder and harder time solving. I almost laughed when my watch showed my 4 mile split: 7:46, coulda fooled me, these feel like 10 minute miles! We finally turned the corner and SURPRISE! it's another GIANT hill up into the parking lot. This time my legs just totally gave up and I actually had to walk for a second up the steep grade, but then I pulled myself together and kicked (hah) across the parking lot, onto the carpet, and before I had time to think of something interesting to do for a finish line photo, I was done! 

Run fuel: salted watermelon Gu

Can we also just talk about all of these FREE PHOTOS? This race is amazing.

I was on some other level of giddiness when I finished, and while my legs were completely exhausted I was high on type 2 fun and endorphins and life. Andrew and Elise's boyfriend reported that she was about 20 minutes back from me starting the run, so we wandered around to find a good spot to wait to cheer her in. In the meantime I went to get my results printout and almost lost my mind when the little sheet printed out and showed: top 10 women. 1ST IN AGE GROUP. It was like deja vu - 10 years ago at my first sprint triathlon, I went in with no clue of what I was doing and won my age group. Here I was a decade later, and it happened again! I was shocked, thrilled, pumped, and PROUD because not only had I executed the race about as perfectly as I could have imagined, I did it with so much joy. There were moments on the bike when I could swear I was just going to explode with the happiness that I was feeling. I don't exactly know what it is about this sport that makes me feel this way, but whether it's the lack of expectations or comparisons, the fun of having a beginner's mindset, or just the overall weirdness of the sport itself (like...you have to change shoes during a race...) it's something I hope I never stop feeling. I'm certainly not giving up on running, but discovering a new sport feels like such a gift at this stage of my running career - bringing me back to the idea that racing is fun, something to be grateful for, something to find joy in, not something that subtracts joy from your life. Of course, discovering something that I seem to have some natural ability for certainly doesn't hurt - surprise age group placings are probably just as addictive as many drugs, and when you've experienced it once, you want to keep experiencing it again and again. But for now, I'll always remember how my fun I had during this race, and how much I just loved the experience of doing what I was doing, and I'm going to try to carry that with me into future training and races - whether it be just running, or triathlons, because let's be honest...now that I'm in, I'm in for good.

White Mountains Triathlon (Olympic - 1500m swim/40K bike/4.25M run)

2:35:38

39/173 OA, 9/67 F, 1/11 F3034

Tales from a weekend double: Westfield 5K/Harpoon 5M

Last weekend was utter chaos - the studio where I teach had it's annual recital, so I was biking back and forth to Lexington all weekend, wrangling young children missing pieces of their costumes, and oh yes...dancing with my high school class because a girl dropped out last minute, all weekend. And somehow, I ALSO managed to fit in not one, but TWO races! Not something I would typically do when I'm fit, let alone when I'm "out of shape" (running, but hadn't done any workouts since Boston). And yet, while I may not be the fastest member of my club, when my team needs me, I answer! Which is how I wound up at the first of the two races, the Westfield 5K.

This 5K was part of the USATF-NE grand prix, and as our women's team is currently in 3rd in the series we knew we needed to field a full team (5) to keep any hopes of winning the series alive. Unfortunately, it was a NIGHTMARE putting the team together - I went from "yeah sure, I'll run if you need me but there are 7 other people running" to being upset because I had signed up and we somehow only had 4 women running! The fact that the race was at 1 pm on the first nice Saturday of the year and almost 2 hours away from Boston was also not helpful in recruiting potential runners. Luckily, our former club president who unfortunately has been injured for quite some time is slowly starting to return to running, and stepped up to complete the distance, if not race for time. And so, after I spent literally the entire day before bitching about having to do the race, our full car hit the road to Westfield!

To be honest I was fairly stressed about this 5K - 5Ks are dumb and they hurt like hell, ESPECIALLY when you aren't in fitness for them. I wasn't looking forward to driving an hour and a half to race a shitty 20:45 5K. The one glimmer of hope was that the race was literally entitled the "Westfield Fast 5K" and word on the street was that it was actually more than flat, it was slightly downhill. I hung my hopes on my lingering marathon fitness and the sweet sweet thought of 'net downhill' as we pulled into the parking lot. In additional news, race day had dawned gorgeous for things besides running - 70s and sunny, I could think of 6000 things I would have rather been doing besides running a 5K - the majority of them involving drinking beer on a patio somewhere. Unfortunately, I wasn't there, I was here, wearing sunglasses and wishing I had worn a crop top, at the start line of a 5K. Oh well. My teammates made it much more fun as we all bitched and moaned together (3 of us were racing the following day, an intersecting 3 of us had run Boston, and 1 was the injured one - clearly the 5K squat our coach was seeking lol) as we did a solitary stride and then headed for the line.

I begrudgingly crammed myself into the "elite women" area with my teammates and the rest of the general USATF women's crowd, and while I felt like I didn't belong there I at least belonged there more than the ~7 people attempting to move into the front of the start corral with baby strollers, small children, and large groups of people who just were not going to be running a 17 minute 5K (as many of the top women did). After some shuffling, it was finally time to do the damn thing!

The gun went off, the course started immediately up a short but steep hill, and I immediately felt the fatigue in my legs from 25 miles of biking the day prior. OOF. Thank God the remainder of this course is supposedly downhill. I didn't feel outstanding from the get-go but I didn't feel bad either, and I just attempted to find a rhythm and groove with it. I felt like I was doing a nice job of staying relaxed and holding back to a reasonable pace for my fitness, but I was brought out of that fantasy by my first split of 6:08. WHOOPS! I'm a dumb dumb! Oh well, nothing to be done for it now but deal with the inevitable slowdown of mile 2. I did not enjoy mile 2. I slowed down (duh), the sun was hot, my stomach hurt, and I was just regretting all my life choices. I ran the least surprising 6:40 of my life lol. However, I can always manage the last mile of a 5K better than the second - once I convince myself I only have 6 minutes left, things just seem much more doable. I felt like trash but the course was heading downhill, and I just tried to hold on as best as I could, passing a few people along the way. We made one final turn towards the finish line and my watch popped a 6:26 for mile 3. Wait, what? I attempted some math, then glanced at the clock, and then gradually came to terms with the fact that I WAS ACTUALLY FIGHTING FOR A SUB 20?? Oh man, I tried so, so hard in that finishing straight. I wanted it bad. But it wasn't enough - when I crossed the line I looked down at my Garmin, which read: 20:00.00. I mean, COME ON!! I prayed to the racing gods that perhaps I started my watch early or something, anything, that would give me that .01 second, but the time stood. Honestly, I'm kind of proud of it now - when do you ever run a flat, even time? I've certainly never done that before. The downhill course nonwithstanding, this was also my second best road 5K of my career (3rd best including track races), not something I would have expected at all given my current fitness. Best of all, our team managed to scrape out 4th place overall thanks to some really strong running by our frontrunners, keeping us in our 3rd place spot. Not the easiest race, but a successful one by all accounts!

So then, I headed home, did some stuff, and got up the next day ready to race...again! This time, at the Harpoon 5 Miler, the race that I had actually planned on doing this weekend. While my mind was in a better place for racing this time around my legs were not. Turns out when you race for the first time in awhile on already fatigued legs, it's tiring! Oh well. This was another team-centric event, so we rallied the troops and got ready to run. I ended up running out of time to warm up and basically just jogged around for like 5 minutes on a dead end road, excellent, quality racing stuff. I also elected to race with music because I just couldn't fathom surviving a 5 mile race in the current state of my legs without a little extra shot of motivation. I'm getting much more lax in my views regarding racing with music - I am 100% certain that I race faster when I have it (see: Black Cat, Philly) partly because it keeps me out of my head and partly because I think it helps me find the "flow" state that typically leads me to my best races. It also seems to be becoming much more common even among fast/high level runners, so I feel less like its "unprofessional" to run with music. Whatever.

The gun went off, and my legs were immediately like WHOA BUDDY! I mean I had known this going in, but how I felt when I started running confirmed that this was going to be something of a struggle. Still, I was in it and willing to do the best I could. I've done this race a couple of times so it was helpful to be familiar with the course and have a sense of how long certain sections were going to take. After barrelling through some crowds of improperly seeded people (I will never understand why people line up in the second row at a 5000 person race and then leisurely jog off the line) and managed to sort out my life to a 6:26 first mile. The pace didn't feel even remotely sustainable, but at least now I only had 4 more miles to go! During mile 2, there's what you could probably consider a veeeeery gentle incline, which felt pretty awful, and at that point my legs basically just gave up and died. And you know what? I actually kept myself in a very happy mental place with that! I just sort of laughed at myself and was like "this is what you get for racing 2 days in a row" and just listened to my techno and survived the remainder of the race. It was nice, and I'm happy to have reached a point in my running career where I can just shrug off a struggle performance and not get so caught up in it that it makes my life even more miserable. Miles 3 and 4 were slow, 6:51 and 6:53 (I'll admit that my thoughts here were: welp, you can run 5 miles at your goal half marathon pace! You've got some work to do!) People were passing me and I was just kind of like, yup, carry on, these quads aren't moving any faster at this point. The last mile I was able to convince myself to summon up a little extra energy, and I crossed the line in 33:21 - only a few seconds off from the last time I did this race, but I'm pretty sure they fixed the course since then so the race is actually almost 5 miles (4.98 on Garmin) vs. 4.9 even. Woo! I think we were all a little disappointed as we pretty much knew that we hadn't won the team title, but honestly I think everyone was pretty content with our 3rd place steins (and beer!) given how the rest of the weekend had gone.

Laughing at myself

And then after the race, I had a couple of beers, went home, ate a snack, rode my bike 8 miles to Lexington, supported the recital for 4 hours, biked home, and was exhausted! But looking back on it, it was the type of weekend I live for. I suck at relaxing and I thrive on movement and a two-race weekend has plenty of one and virtually none of the other. And speaking of busy weekends, my summer is definitely going to be busy in the athletic sense, because after years of pondering it, talking about it, and considering it, I finally pulled the trigger and am signed up for a half iron triathlon in September! I am PUMPED. Running is always going to be my love and the sport that comes first, but I honestly think Boston broke me a little bit this year and I needed a shift, at least for the time being. I'm super excited to be learning about a new sport where I have virtually nothing to compare myself to, and to participate in a sport where both of my experiences to date have felt like nothing short of pure joy. I'm also convinced that pursuing the triathlon life is going to help me in the long term as a marathoner, but that's not really what it's about. While I love running, it turns out I also just generally love moving, and pushing myself, and challenging myself to see what I'm capable of, and I can't wait to see where that love can take me!

The crop top didn't save me: Boston 2019

I hate that I'm writing this race report, and it's super tempting to actually just skip it all together - because quite honestly that's what I want to do, forget that Boston ever happened and move on to the next thing. But, for the sake of completeness, I will write the report of this crappy race and attempt to find some lessons from it...though really the only thing I think I learned was that I still can't (and probably will never be able to) tolerate hot weather. I was 30 minutes off my A+ goal (3:05), 28 minutes off my A goal(3:07), 25 minutes off my B goal (PR), and even 15 minutes shy of my C goal (3:20). Hell, I didn't even meet my D goal (qualify for next year)! I did, however, finish. Somehow, miserably, sadly, and with great frustration, I did finish the race. And here is the story of how (it's not a very happy story so...feel free to skim if you don't like "I felt awful" on repeat...)

Race weekend, as usual, was great! Saturday was the usual mix of fun and excitement, as my friends and I bopped around the general Boylston/Newbury area. We spent some time in the Norma Tec boots at the Goodr store, shopped a bunch as usual, enjoyed a 26.2 Brew while meandering through the expo (a new perk that I found quite entertaining), and generally enjoyed the day. All of us definitely had some apprehensions regarding the weather forecast, which had shifted from 40s and raining (GREAT FOR ME!) on Wednesday to a steadily climbing mid 60s and humid by Saturday (NOT GREAT FOR ME!). Despite this, I really felt like I was in a great mindset going into the race. I planned to race in a crop top for the first time ever, and I practiced so much positive self talk over the weekend. THIS was going to be the year that I managed to conquer the heat! I knew that a PR was unlikely given the weather, but I felt so well prepared and well trained that I felt in my heart that I could pull of a strong race despite the forecast, even if it wasn't a PR. 

The day before the race was a typical sloth day, with one highlight being running into one of my favorite blog/Instagram friends, Grace! As Andrew and I were walking to grab coffee I spotted a familiar looking runner on the side of the road. As we were walking back, she was coming back the other way and I was confident enough that it was who I thought that I called her name and sure enough, she was staying nearby! Love that Boston serendipity! We chatted a bit about goals and such and wished each other luck, then headed on our way. I didn't do much else besides brunch, watch Inception, and hydrate like a maniac the remainder of the day. But interestingly, it was by far the least nervous I've ever felt before a marathon! I think that's the theme of this report - my training cycle went SO well, I felt SO prepared and strong, that I honestly think I was convinced that no matter what the day threw at me, I could take it like a champ and come out of it with a time that I would be proud of. 

Oh dear. How wrong I was.

Race day dawned as forecast, with a monsoon. As I walked to the local Dunks for my morning coffee, it felt like I was meandering through a rainforest - not good! But I was still in good spirits, and as usual enjoyed my train ride into the city with the stunning mix of early morning commuters and marathon hobos. I was able to meet up with my teammate Elise pretty uneventfully at the Arlington T station, and after a little bit of kerfuffling (we were waiting for another friend, who as it turns out had already gotten on a bus and didn't tell us!) we headed for the bus lines. Unfortunately, buses were being held due to the thunderstorms/bad weather, so this resulted in us standing in the pouring rain for almost half an hour while waiting for our bus. We didn't leave the common until after 8, which is by far the latest I've ever headed out to the village during this whole endeavor. The bus ride was 100% the highlight of my day - this was Elise's first Boston, and the two of us were just full of giddy excitement. We were dying laughing over my husband's question the night before whether Work Bitch by Britney Spears was a cover ("yes....a Bob Dylan cover....*harmonica*"), as well as my hilarious efforts to eat my cube of coagulated oatmeal with a spoon I crafted out of aluminum foil (silverware was not on my to do list that morning). While the bus ride felt LONG, we laughed a lot and generally enjoyed ourselves, finally pulling into the village around 9:10.  The village was a mud pit, to the point where my shoes were literally being sucked off my feet while ambling to the porta potty! Because we arrived so late, things at the village went extremely fast - we used the porta potty, changed shoes, and left for the start....literally no time to sit and wait! I'm not really sure if this was a good or bad thing (I'm leaning towards it's not something I'd do in the future) - I think having a few moments to collect yourself in the chaos can be valuable and having time to get a little more fluid in may have helped me in the long run. 

We were off to the start, and as usual I enjoyed the walk down. We chatted with a few nearby runners about our throwaway gear and made a quick stop at the CVS porta potties, where I magically ran into two of my other friends who were running! Magic! I did lose Elise at that point, so sadly missed out on the opportunity to wish her luck at the first Boston, but all of a sudden it was like 8 minutes to the start and I knew it would take awhile to get to corral 2. Once there, I barely had time to retie my shoes before the announcement "30 seconds....this will be the final announcement". And then the cannon, and I was off once again from Hopkinton to Boston.

I will tell you what one of the worst feelings in life is. It's the feeling when you start running a 26.2 mile road race, and literally from the FIRST STEP you take, you know your legs aren't there. This was the sensation I experienced on Monday and let me tell you...it's the worst. I was maybe 400 meters into the race and there were already alarm bells going off in my brain. Oh no. OH NO. My cardiovascular effort felt easy, but my legs felt like bricks. Feeling that way, knowing the weather was what it was, and knowing I had a marathon to run was....awful. But what could I do about it? I tried my best to steel myself for what I already suspected could be a long day (keeping in mind that at this stage, my idea of a "long day" was 3:20, maybe 3:25), and attempted to relax. Maybe I just needed time to warm up? Maybe it was just the fact that my body literally hasn't experienced this level of humidity since last July?  I decided that I would go out at a normal effort and see if things resolved a ways down the road. For the first 4 miles, I almost had myself convinced. I actually went out just about perfectly for my original goal in terms of pace (7:04, 7:07, 7:10, 7:02), but here's the problem: it felt WAY too hard. And I knew it. When your goal pace feels hard when you're blowing down a hill, it's time to readjust, and you know what, I did! By mile 4, I was already pretty much like, you know what, this is going to be a long run effort. It is what it is, you've done plenty of long runs at 7:30-7:40 pace, if that's the pace you run this race at that is totally fine. 

Upon dialing back the effort level, I did feel better for a little while. "Better" being a relative term, as I felt worse than I had at any point during Boston last year at mile 6, but more like I stood a chance of survival. I had already been swallowed up by a couple of my teammates who started further back in the wave by this point, which didn't come as a huge surprise but it was still frustrating. But what could I do - certainly not go with them, given the way I was feeling! I took my first Gu on schedule at 5, and immediately became nauseous...again, not a good omen, and my stomach would give me trouble throughout the remainder of the race (lower GI remained rock solid, so at least there was that). Through the general Framingham vicinity, my plan was working OK. I had dialed back to 7:25-:30ish pace which was actually treating me fairly, though again, I had this deep sense of doom and gloom that something bad was coming. It reminded me in a horrible way of my 2016 race, when I started to bomb out at mile 8. Still, I tried to keep myself positive. I do remember wishing I had more energy to high five or play up the crowds, as the spectators in Framingham are always drunk and fun. But alas - I needed to save every kernel of energy I had for what was to come. 

Mile 8-10 I don't have much of a recollection of. We ran through Natick Center and I felt...OK, I guess. I continued to take water at every stop and had been taking my Gus on schedule; I think at some point in here I also threw down my first salt tab (wrapped in saran wrap; I had dropped the whole package in the mud in Hopkinton but picked it back up because I thought it might be the thing that saved me. We'll pretend that was true...). All I know is that right around mile 11, I suddenly went from feeling like "ehh this is fine" to NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE. We were running up the gradual incline leaving Natick center, and my legs just wanted nothing to do with it. I just felt like I needed to collect myself, and slowed down to a walk, just for a split second  (at MILE 11! You know this is bad.) - which was all it took for a woman to come up behind me and touch my shoulder and tell me to keep going. This happened MANY times throughout the race and isn't something I can actually remember ever happening in the past - so many supportive strangers giving a word of encouragement to someone who's day was clearly going south - it meant a lot, and each and every time it happened I tried my best to summon my energy and get back to whatever passed for a run at that point in the race. I kept looking vaguely over my right shoulder searching for any flash of red, waiting, hoping, that maybe one of my friends would appear, and somehow that would save me. 

After my brief moment of weakness at mile 11, I had about 3 more decent miles. The downhill towards Wellesley College is always much appreciated, and I attempted as always to appreciate the scream tunnel. I dunno...that part of the course just doesn't do it for me. Wellesley proper was wild and loud as always, and I tried to suck some tiny mote of energy from the crowd. I passed the half right around 1:38 even and couldn't even do the math to figure out what that would equate to if I ran it twice...my brain was already feeling like it was melting out of my head. I also knew, deep down, that I would not be running another 1:38 half. In fact, I was starting to wonder if I was going to make it through the second half at all. The next two miles were something of a blur, and again I honestly have almost no memory of running through Wellesley. The only thing I remember is at some point being next to a guy who must have been listening to some inspirational religious tape on his headphones, and was murmuring something to the effect of "thank you for this day, thank you, thank you..." and in my extremely unhappy state I wanted to whack him in the face. Much as I tried, I was finding virtually nothing to be thankful for in this particular moment. I was growing more nauseous by the second, my legs felt like bricks strapped to my body, my dreams of even a decent time were starting to swirl down the drain, and I still had 13 more miles of this hell to get through! It was horrid. Elise came flying by in the mile near the little park, and all I could do was cry after her "I can't do this!" I truly felt like my body was shutting down. It wasn't even that I felt hot, specifically, I just felt absolutely awful. Like I had never run before in my life and definitely had no interest in starting now. At some point I thought to myself "this is a disaster"...and my brain decided to give me the GIFT of putting a line from Lady Gaga's "Telephone" on repeat for like an hour: "I should have left my phone at home 'cause this is a disaster". 

And then, the sun came out.

All morning the clouds, which I thought would perhaps be yet another version of the one thing that would save me, had been thinning and thinning. While the minor drop in humidity was welcome, the sunshine, the one thing that I had thought a million times in the prior 48 hours "well, at least it won't be SUNNY", was not. And so, when the sun popped out and we were suddenly running beneath a brilliant blue sky, I did the only thing that came to mind: I looked up at the sky, and I said, out loud: "Oh, F*CK YOU, SUN!" I can't remember if that got a laugh out of anyone near me, but I sure hope so. With the temperature continuing to rise (it ended up being 70), the soul sucking sun out, and me feeling like I was already past the point of no return in terms of dehydration/electrolyte imbalance, things were going very poorly indeed. 

I'm trying to find some moments of grace in this race to keep this race report from just being the most miserable thing anyone has ever read, but I'll be honest, it's really hard to do. I've just never felt so awful, for so long during a race. To be completely honest I have no idea how I kept myself moving forward - once any time goals were gone, what was left to be worth making myself feel even more miserable? Maybe the fact that I've never DNF'd, maybe the fact that I just couldn't not finish Boston, but somehow despite wanting to crawl under a water table and pass out, I managed to trudge on. There were certainly plenty of others in my boat, and while I wouldn't wish what I was experiencing on anyone, it did help to feel less alone. I saw runners stumbling into the water tables being caught by volunteers, people swearing, people rubbing out cramps on the sidelines. Nobody thinks about this when they envision their dream race, and you think to yourself, "my fitness will save me". But if you're a heat intolerant runner on the first 70 degree day in 6 months, what I learned on Monday is this: there is nothing that will save you. 

I managed to pull out my last sub-8 mile of the day on the giant Wellesley downhill, knowing full well that after that things were going to get even uglier. For the next few miles, I found myself in the following pattern: running would feel pretty OK for a little while - maybe 5 minutes, maybe 8. Then all of a sudden I'd be struck by a bolt of nausea or my legs would just decide that they couldn't go on, and I'd have to walk. Rinse, repeat. As I headed up the hill over the bridge, I glanced to one side and saw a girl, Stephanie, who I follow on Instagram. I knew that we had been aiming for similar goal times, and felt less alone knowing that she was clearly not having the day that she had planned either. So I did the most unlike me thing EVER: I needed a friend, and I needed one badly, and so I decided to introduce myself to her! Lo and behold, we were able to work together for a mile or so, and while I unfortunately lost her in the end due to another punch-in-the-guy round of nausea, it was a glimmer of light in a very dark place and I'm so glad I decided to say something (even if it came from a place of essentially being delirious and also very upset lol)

We made the turn at the firehouse, and I told myself I HAD to try to run up the hills. And I tried. I tried so, so hard. But I was so thirsty and I felt like a shell of myself and my legs just didn't have the power. So I walked a little bit. Ran a little bit. It's easy now to look back and say "I should have pushed harder, I didn't need to walk, I was being a baby", but then I actually reflect on how I felt in the moment and realize that I could not have done ANYTHING more. I was trying desperately to hang on to the hope that I could run anything reasonable, even a 3:25, 3:29, I don't care, just please, please don't let me run another 3:30+. That's the one thing I said I couldn't abide by. That was the thing too - as my physical self continued to feel worse and worse, my emotional state also got worse and worse. Not only was I miserable, I was sad and upset! I kept trying to draw on the energy of the crowds and just calm myself down and stop worrying about it, but it was tough to convince myself to be positive when my race was a disaster, I was nauseous and dizzy (I kept finding myself on the right side of the road without being able to figure out how I got there), and I still had 8 more miles to go! Ahhhhhhh.

The second Newton hill was alright, I guess. I have a patient who lives near the hill who said he'd be out watching, and I forced myself to run up it with the thought process of "If *patient* sees me walking, he is NEVER going to let me live that down". The water stations were appearing like mirages, out of the distance, and looking back I wish I'd taken like 3 cups of water at each one instead of just one. I kept seeing people in the crowd with things I wanted (freeze pops, non yellow Gatorade) but by the time my desire was processed and I thought to act on it, I was already past the person...I think my mental function was about as low as it's ever been during this race, thanks a lot, dehydration. I knew I just had to deal with Heartbreak and then, at least, while I had many other things to still contend with, I at least wouldn't have to deal with any more massive hills.

Now, when I think back on Heartbreak, in my mind I feel like I actually ran the majority of it, I only walked for a tiny portion, and I thought I felt decent. My splits say.....uh.....something else. So I guess maybe my brain is just modifying the experience to make it a little more palatable. Or maybe not, because another of my patients apparently actually saw me here and reported that I looked strong...although not on the side of the road where I told them I would be. Again, I thought about taking a beer at the tent that's always on Heartbreak - a shitty race, finally my chance! But again, by the time I realized what it was and processed that I wanted it, I was already too far gone. Whatever, time for the downhill, I tried to just do as little work as possible. The stretch after BC always ruins my life when I'm having a bad year, and this year was no exception. In this case, it was really the nausea that was coming to the forefront of "life problems" - with every step, my stomach felt like it was being punched. I was desperately thirsty and was still drinking at every station, but it was making my stomach feel worse and worse. I definitely had to walk a few times here and quite honestly by this point I was feeling just utterly beaten down and demoralized. I love marathon training, and I try to be a student of the process over the product, but when you're literally not even able to run a full mile without stopping, when you're heading to the finish at a pace slower than your easiest easy days, in that moment it's impossible to remember all of the training that brought you to that point, because in that moment it just feels like it's all worthless. And I'm not going to sugar coat it: that's how I felt. Like all of the work had meant nothing. 

We made the turn towards Cleveland Circle, and with the downhill, the crowd, and the fact that I knew there were only 3.5 miles left, I found at least some semblance of something that I could work with. Running down the hill I kind of laughed, because I had watched Inception the night before and all I could think was "where is my totem? Maybe this is a dream. Maybe I'll just wake up right now and the race won't have happened yet." For awhile, on Beacon, I was sort of able to run for a decent time frame. Not fast, of course, but at least a running vs walking motion. At some point, some girl dropped a sign right in front of me and it inexplicably flapped up in the air; I SOMEHOW managed to do an awkward little hop hurdle and jump over the sign...otherwise I probably would have fallen on my face. 

As we headed into Washington Square, again something snapped and I was reduced back to a walk. And then, the thing I had been searching for all day happened: Taylor, my teammate, one of my good friends, one of my two training partners this cycle, came up behind me, tapped my back, ripped out her headphones and yelled something at me. I, being in the state that I was, responded in the highly appropriate way of bursting into tears. We started running together, though I had to walk through the next water station in order to be able to breathe because I was hyperventilating. I was such a physical and emotional wreck, and I just couldn't believe after all this time, we had found each other. I had dreams of us sticking together for the last 3 miles and crossing the finish line together. She was in slightly better condition than myself, but I tried my best to lock onto her back and fight to stay with her - I was able to do that for about a mile and a half, but somewhere around mile 25 I again just found my body completely giving up. The little spike of an uphill over the highway felt utterly impossible, and I'll admit that this was the one point of the race where I gave in: what was the point of struggling up this hill when my time was trash anyway? What difference would 20 seconds make? So I let myself walk up the hill with the promise that I would try my best to run it in.

Kenmore, one mile to go. I am dying, dying, dying and there is just no magic to be found here today. Every step I'm convinced that I can't take another one and then somehow I do, and then another, and then I walk for a second and I'm just disgusted, because I'm WALKING in Kenmore, and who even does that? Into the tunnel, up and out, there's Hereford up ahead. This is it, I will NOT walk again. I won't. I don't care if I collapse. And then I'm running up Hereford and thank God, it's almost done, this nightmare can be over. Left on Boylston, the longest street in the world, but for some reason now that the finish line is tantalizingly in sight my legs decide that maybe they can move just a little bit. It feels like slow motion running but I am passing people. And that's what I think, as I run down Boylston, just run all of them down. You deserve to have been finished 25 minutes ago but today you don't get what you deserve. You get to finish, and maybe that's all you get, but that's going to have to be enough. The clock is at 3:34 something and I almost laugh, because this is the SAME stupid race as 2016, same almost down to the second. It is miserable, but I'm running, and that's all I can do, and finally I cross the line and it's over.

I felt like a blank slate walking through the finish chute. I tried to thank the volunteers and tried to smile, tried to be aware of the fact that likely a decent chunk of the people surrounding me were just as upset as I was. But it was hard. Truthfully, I have never been so upset after a race. Never. I haven't cried after a race since I was 22 years old but when I finally made my way to Clery's and to my waiting friends, I couldn't keep myself from sobbing. In that moment, all I felt was embarrassed, disappointed, and at my core, sad. Sad that the best training cycle I had ever completed in my life was over, and that I had nothing to show for it but a time that will certainly be consigned to the trash heap of my running career.

But now, sitting here at my computer several days later, of course I'm disappointed, and I want to forget the race ever happened, but I also see how the training I've done paves a road into the future and how none of that changes because the day goes wrong. I can see how the weather was a HUGE factor, and will always be a huge factor for me, and that nothing I could have done would have changed that. I see that my confidence in being able to overcome the weather was misplaced, and that NOTHING is ever certain in a marathon. And most importantly, I know that I am absolutely freaking ready to do EVERYTHING in my power to run a time I know I'm capable of this fall. The work I put in doesn't just cease to exist because the end product didn't turn out as I'd hoped - in fact, it was two horrendous Bostons in 2016 and 2017 that paved the way for me to make a huge jump in the 2017/18 seasons. The race was upsetting, and very disappointing, but it's OK. Or maybe if it doesn't quite feel OK just yet, sometime pretty soon it will. 

I don't think I can ever treat Boston as a goal race again; at 5/8 on hot races there just is no way I can take that chance any more (yes, hi, I said that after 2017 and LOOK HOW 2018 TURNED OUT!). But despite this race report seeming to say otherwise, I love this stupid goddamn race. I know I can run it well, and there is just nothing in the world like running it well. And that, despite getting my heart broken by it over and over again, is what will forever keep me coming back for more. 

But I swear to God, the next time it's 70 degrees at Boston, I'm taking every single beer from a spectator I can find.  Also, despite the crop top not saving me, it still LOOKED amazing, and that's what really matters, right?

Boston Marathon 2019 - 3:35:11

On to the next one. 

Black Cat 20 Mile Race Report

My thoughts on this race can best be summed up by the way I titled it on Strava: "Black Cat 20 - HOLY SHIT!!!" I've been running long enough to know that some days you've got it, and some days you don't. Most of the days fall somewhere in between. Yesterday, I ran the Black Cat 20 Miler. I was planning on running it as a workout, but I was gifted with one of those glorious, once-in-a-while days where running feels like magic, and when you have those kinds of days, you capitalize on them. The result was that I ran 20 miles in 7:03 pace, dropping numerous sub 7 miles along the way, something that was and still is kind of beyond my comprehension. While I know that you don't get the magic coalescence of perfect weather and your legs showing up all the time, this race was the first I've run in a LONG time that made me think: "huh, I might be faster than I realized".

Backing up for a second, this performance is even more amusing because this week I felt like TRASH. Running has felt like a total chore and I've had various minor aches and pains flare up throughout the week, stomach issues likely related to a salad that I meal prepped that just didn't work for me, in addition to some kind of low grade sinus virus thing that resulted in me just feeling super run down and fatigued all week. On Friday I actually told my colleague and teammate that the thought of running 20 miles at all, let alone racing, the following day made me want to cry - and it did! When I woke up at the crack of dawn on Saturday (8 am races 45 minutes outside of the city...woof) I had similar feelings - I was so tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep! But instead I got up and got ready and just tried to console myself with the fact that at least I was just running the race as a long run/workout. My thought was to run the first 5 miles relatively easy, go into a couple of rounds of 4 or 5 miles at goal marathon pace with a mile or 2 easy in between, and then just see what I had left for the end. I had toyed with the idea of just trying to run the whole thing at goal marathon pace, but that seemed really aggressive! I figured my plan would result in something around 7:20 pace average, which would be a solid long run and faster than I've finished this race in the past. 

We had a great squad of women racing, which was a plus, and we were able to hang out in the hotel ballroom near the start line until about 5 minutes before the race, which was also really nice. This year's weather was by far the most pleasant weather I've had for this race - 30 degrees, sunny, and no real wind to speak of. It took me awhile to figure out my outfit, but I think I've finally realized that 28 degrees and over has become shorts weather for me - I went with shorts and a light long sleeve under my singlet and honestly I was perfectly comfortable throughout the race. Soon enough we headed over to the start line, they played the world's longest rendition of the national anthem (I remembered this from the last time I did this race), and we were off!

As planned, I made an effort to keep myself feeling very chill for the first couple of miles. I went out about exactly where I expected with respect to my teammates, and just bopped along through the 'easy' miles. My first couple of miles were right around 7:18-19 which was actually faster than I was aiming for but I was fine with that - the effort level felt right. I sort of felt like I had to pee from the moment we started running, and while it was uncomfortable it was tolerable, so I just figured I'd reassess if I needed to hit a porta potty later on. As we ran out towards Marblehead, I started pondering what the new section of the course would be like - due to huge snowbanks/safety issues (the roads aren't closed for this race), the course had been changed to something advertised as "a little bit hillier and a little less scenic".  As we turned into the 'new' section, the truth of that was unfortunately confirmed - the whole section, which we'd have to go through 4 times (as an out and back on a double loop course), was a whole mess of rolling hills. However, on the first pass through, I actually didn't mind those hills one little bit - in fact, I was actually feeling FANTASTIC. I hadn't caught a split on my watch in awhile but I could tell I wasn't slowing down, and I had pretty much already made the decision that I was going to throw my workout out the window and just do whatever felt good. 

One of the nice things about the out and back course is getting a chance to cheer for your teammates as they come through on the other side, and I definitely got a little boost of energy from that as I turned around to head back towards Salem. I tried to be aware of the fact that we were only 5 miles into a 20 mile race, but the fact was, I was feeling strong as hell. There's just a feeling I have on some days that I've really only experienced a few times in my life - the last couple marathons I've run have been two of them, and I was starting to feel something very similar now. Things were just...flowing. That being said, when I finally caught my watch at the 6 mile split I was completely and utterly SHOCKED to see a 6:59 pop up on the screen. Er, excuse me? I assumed that I had just been feeling good flowing along at 7:15 pace, but this cast things in a whole new light. Well, I wasn't here to argue with my body feeling fantastic and doing it's thing! And that it did - for the next few miles, I found myself in such an amazing flow state that I feel like I almost never experience in races! I was just rolling, 6:57, 6:56, 6:53, and it felt SO EASY. I almost couldn't even understand what I was doing. It was a very similar feeling to Boston last year when the thoughts running through my head were just this giddy "I can't believe I'm doing this? Can this last?" Clearly all thoughts of doing a workout, "not racing", etc were completely off the able now - I had found myself on this train and there was no way I wasn't going to see where it would take me. 

At mile 9 there's a long, straight stretch through Salem with some cobblestone sections that I really didn't enjoy much, and that kind of took me out of the moment for a second - though based on my splits, I perceived that I was slowing down when I actually wasn't at all! One saving grace of the course modification was the elimination of one particularly nasty hill that showed up around the 8/18 mile marks, so it was nice to be able to just make a turn at 9 and know it was a straight shot back to the finish line, or the second loop in this case. As I ran down the 10 mile stretch, I thought to myself how grateful I was to be having a day that was so validating, that proved that my training actually WAS doing something. Then I giggled, because the phrase "it's WORKING" is something one of my clients says all the time, in kind of a euphoric way, and it was just so fitting to how I felt in that moment. But now it was time for the second loop. It's one thing to run 10 miles feeling great, but 20? That could be a different story.

Absolutely the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened to me in a race happened early on in this second lap. While the local police and the race organizers really do their best to make the course safe while being open to traffic, drivers are idiots and things got really chaotic in the busier section at the beginning of the loop. But the random cars driving around had nothing on the Uber driver who was driving behind me, pulled directly in front of me (double parking in a bike lane), and then when I tried to go around on the inside of the car to avoid being hit by traffic attempting to squeeze by this double parked jerkface, the passenger OPENED THEIR DOOR right in front of me, almost hitting me, and blocking my way! I had to jump into a snow bank, over and onto the sidewalk, and then repeat the process to get back into the road a little further up. Let me just say that some choice words were expressed (by me) and some middle fingers were raised (also by me). For the love of God, pay some attention to what's going on around you! I have to say, I was extremely proud when my split for that mile was STILL A 7:01! 

Meanwhile, I had been gradually reeling in a girl wearing a Black Cat shirt from 2014, and my annoyance at the Uber driver and my off roading adventure gave me the fire to make the pass. I have to admit that every time I passed someone in this race it was SUPER fun...maybe I'm just not used to being the strong one in the later stages of the race, but there's something nifty about blowing by people and putting minutes on them in no time (this particular girl ended up finishing 5 minutes behind me). As we had now lost the 10 milers the race had spread out quite a bit, and I was surprised to see that the next person in front of me was one of my teammates, Caroline! She has a big red bow in her hair that I tried to stare at and get back into a rhythm as I tried to see if I could reel her in. This is someone who I definitely view as faster than me, so when I ended up passing her at mile 12 (after running a 6:47, my fastest mile of the day) I was shocked. I knew that the next 5 miles through the hilly section were going to be a challenge, but I was still feeling so strong that I had a suspicion that I could hang on. The uphills were definitely getting to my legs more and more as time went on, but I felt like I was able to use the downhills to recover pretty completely before attacking the next hill. My confidence got another hilarious boost when I crossed the 13 mile mark in 1:31 something. I literally was like...hold on...am I going to run a half marathon PR right now. I hit 13.1 miles at 1:32:15, which is literally only 5 SECONDS SLOWER than my half marathon PR....so apparently I need to run a faster half marathon, stat. Of course, I thought to myself, when you run a half marathon PR in a 20 mile race, that could bode poorly for the last 7 miles. But there was nothing to be done for it now - all I could do was keep running and find out!

There was a nasty hill up to the turnaround near the 14 mile mark, and then we headed back towards the finish. This section was definitely where some of the fatigue started to catch up with me - it was becoming more challenging to recover from the uphills and the last few steps up to the crest of any given hill were feeling a lot less strong than they had a few miles before. Mile 14 was slower at 7:08, but I thought to myself, hey, that is STILL below your goal marathon pace. You know, that pace that you said it was "too aggressive" to run this whole race at? Things were decidedly getting harder, but when I hit mile 15 at 7 minutes flat I knew I could hold on for 5 more miles. Mile 17-18 were definitely the worst of the race - there are some longer, low grade but steady uphills heading back towards Salem and one of them in particular really got me good, resulting in a 7:13 split for mile 18 (honestly at that point I felt like I was CRAWLING and I can't believe I was even running that fast lol). Finally, we hit the downhill heading towards the long straightaway, and I knew there were no more hills to contend with and it was just time to push the last 2 miles. At this point I had been running completely alone since the turnaround with the only runner in sight a guy in a gray shirt maybe 200 meters ahead. I pushed down the lonely straightaway, taking care not to fall on my face over the random cobblestone sections as my quads started to make some noises with flickers of cramps. The turn just after mile 9 for some reason felt like it was straight uphill (it was not lol), but did give me a chance to glance back and see if there was anyone else around. My teammate was out of sight, but there was a girl in blue capris looking a little too energetic maybe 30 seconds behind me. It had been super tempting to just relax for the last mile, but seeing this girl was a great motivator and kept the fire underneath me. While I didn't exactly light the world on fire (my last mile was a 7:04), it was faster than any mile since the fatigue had all hit me at mile 17 and I was able to hold her off by about 10 seconds. The course was a touch long (I think where they had to put the turnaround for the modified course added about 0.1 in the end) but regardless, my finish time of 2:22:12 was a massive PR (7:30 better than my previous official 20 mile PR and probably 4 minutes faster than any "unofficial" time I've hit in a marathon) and a MASSIVE breakthrough!

I'm not going to lie, I almost started crying at the finish line. Sure, this is just a random 20 mile race, and yes, the weather was perfect, and whatever, a lot can happen in the next 5 weeks and if it's hot at Boston I'm still screwed. But after running Boston last year, there was a part of me that felt like that was it - I had fulfilled my potential, and that was as fast as I was ever going to run. And there was a part of me that was very OK with that! But this race...for the first time in a LONG time, I actually feel like I am capable of going faster. I was talking with a friend after the race and laughing because I had told her about my "running goal marathon pace sounds too aggressive" before I ran the race 7 seconds faster than goal marathon pace. And she was like, well, maybe this IS your goal marathon pace! And I was like, AHH, because that pace equates to a 3:05. THEN two different people commented on my Strava and a teammate commented in person that I should put a sub-3 in my sights (a goal that I have NEVER had, nor pretended to have, at any point ever, because I don't feel like it's realistic). Which again, I was like, AH, I don't really know about that. But then again, if you'd told me 3 days ago that I was about to run almost sub-7 pace for 20 miles, I would have told you you were insane. During the race, I kept thinking "I can't believe I'm doing this" and then being like "Well, you SHOULD believe it. You earned it. You're doing it. BELIEVE IT!" And honestly, I have 100% confidence that if I had been running a marathon yesterday, I would have run a PR - I 100% had 6 more miles left in me at 7:05-7:10.  So, who knows anything, really? All I can do is keep putting in the type of work that I know works for me, keep going into races in the mindset that I know works for me (with low/no expectations, relaxed, running 100% by feel, and never EVER focusing on hitting a specific pace) and know that sometimes, when things fall into place, the magic is there waiting to happen.

(Also, can it just be 30-35 degrees with no wind for every race I do for the rest of my life, THANKS IN ADVANCE MOTHER NATURE!)

Black Cat 20 Mile

2:22:12 (PR)

21/241 OA, 5/148 F, 1/56 F30-39 (after top 3 removed)

Tom King Classic 'Race' Report and a February training recap

I feel like the phrase "the days are long, but the years are short" (or in this case weeks) really applies to this year's Boston cycle so far. In the moment, it seemed like February went on FOREVER, but now it's kind of hard to believe that it's in the rearview and we're sitting only 6 weeks out from Boston. Overall, I had a pretty solid February of training - I won't say it was anything earth shattering, but I was extremely consistent and did all of the things that I planned on doing. I finished February with 213 miles, about 30 miles more than last year. I think I give the most credit to the fact that I've been much better about extending my "standard" run distance from 6 miles to 7-8 this month, only allotting myself one 6 mile day per week. Those extra 1-2 miles per day add up! Also nothing super dramatic happened in February. The weather was fine, my legs were fine, I had some of the usual February mental struggles, but it was pretty much just a standard training month to get through.

I did have a pretty enjoyable experience last weekend doing a workout/race at the Tom King Half Marathon in Nashville! The whole thing actually came about in a hilarious way - back in December, my teammates and I were on a bar crawl (where we ran between bars, of course) and Taylor brought up the fact that she was going to Nashville for a friend's 30th in February, and also doing a half while she was there since we'd be Boston training. It occurred to my slightly drunk self that 1) my sister lives in Nashville, 2) I hadn't been to visit her yet, 3) this sounded fun, and 4) I SHOULD GO ON THIS TRIP. One thing led to another, I found a $120 round trip flight, my sister was thrilled to host me, Joy hopped on board, and soon enough the crazy idea turned into a delightful reality!

Things were made more interesting by the fact that Nashville was experiencing historic amounts of rain and flooding in the week leading up to the race, to the point where the course had already been modified twice due to flooding by the time my plane touched down in Nashville. Having raced all out at the 10 miler 6 days before, I was already planning on doing the race as a workout but was still a little worried that it would get cancelled all together. I arrived in Nashville after quite a long travel day (left home at 7:45 am and arrived at 5:15 pm, losing an hour due to the time change), and enjoyed a delightful and leisurely dinner with my sister and brother in law at Henrietta Red. We then headed to a local brewery (Bearded Iris), because why not! I'm long past caring about staying out a little late/drinking an extra beer the night before most races, particularly those I'm running as workouts.

Saturday morning dawned, and while it was raining pretty heavily it was NOT thunderstorming, which was the only condition which the race directors had advised would cancel the race. I have to take a moment to give huge kudos to Nashville Striders - the communication leading up to the race was outstanding and this was one of the best organized races I've run despite all of the challenges that they faced - I know many races in New England that would have cancelled all together if forced to change the course due to flooding, so major props! My Lyft driver hilariously told me that he "hoped I won" the race as he dropped me off at Nissan Stadium. I will admit to being a little disappointed that we did not get to finish on the 50 yard line as planned (rain, again), but it was sort of a unique experience to be hanging out before a race in an NFL stadium. Taylor and Joy arrived, and we warmed up fairly miserably around the stadium.

Life is...OK?

Taylor and I had discussed running together although I know her well enough to know she was probably going to drop me at some point, it was nice to have someone to work with through the first section of the race. My goal was to run no faster than my ambitious GMP (7:10) and while it felt like I was holding back a bit through the first few miles, I knew I was making the right call. I could definitely feel the travel day + the previous week's work in my legs and I was honestly pretty happy that I didn't feel pressured to race all out - in fact, I was a little nervous that I wasn't even going to be able to hold GMP. It continued to rain pretty steadily but at 55 or 60 degrees was really quite comfortable...I mean, once you're wet, what does it matter if you get a little wetter? The modified course was pretty straightforward - we made a lap around the stadium, then did a long out stretch to loop around the park, came back, and then repeated. I'll admit, when I was running back towards the stadium and saw the leaders heading back towards the park, I got a little sad that we were going to have to make the same loop again, lol. Taylor pulled ahead of me around mile 6 and I just tried to maintain pace while keeping her in my sights. I started putting in some little 20-30 second surges at the start of each mile, just to keep myself from getting complacent. While I felt like I was putting in a little more effort than I would have liked, I was pleased with how well I was holding approximately the correct pace, with the majority of my splits between 7:13-7:16 with a few faster outliers. While the out and back made for a less than thrilling course, it was nice to get to see/cheer on other runners, and to get some awesome high fives from Joy on the other side of the course. 

On the second loop around the park, the fatigue kind of all hit me at once - I was over it! Mile 10 was the least enjoyable of the race, as we headed up a pretty minor but long incline that I just was not in the mood for. I took a Gu which helped quite a bit (I don't think I've ever actually felt the moment when the caffeine from a Gu took effect before, but I had an actual instant of "whoosh" about 5 minutes after I took it and I all of a sudden felt better). I also saw a huge heron flying through the park which was a pick me up as well, as we are always on the lookout for wildlife lol. Heading back towards the city I was just about ready to be done, but had promised that I would try to pick it up for the last couple of miles. While I did manage to pick it up slightly, I was unfortunately MUCH more tired than I had bargained for and only managed to muster up a 7:01 and a 7:04, lol! Oh well. I crossed the line in 1:33:14 - the course was slightly under 13.1 but I'd still say good for a sub 1:34. Not bad for a workout! 

Work work work work work.

Overall, I was pretty happy with the whole experience! It's always fun to race in a new place, and I thought that I executed my plan about as well as I could have. I do feel like the effort for 7:10 was definitely higher than I'd like for marathon pace, but then again I still have another month of hard training, and there were plenty of excuses I could make as to why it felt harder (travel, weather, cumulative fatigue, etc). So in general, I'd say the fact that I can hit GMP for half a marathon is not a bad thing for February! My biggest disappointment was that I finished just out of the AG rankings in 4th (annoyingly, I would have been 2nd in the 25-29 AG and 1st in the 35-39! Argh.) and the award was a really nice coffee mug! Guess I'll just actually have to race it next time.

Meanwhile, back in Boston, March has come in like a damn lion. Saturday was one of only two long runs that aren't races that I needed to achieve during this 6 week block, and wouldn't you know it, we had a winter storm! So I slogged through Natick and Wellesley, completely ate it at mile 5, cried a little bit, thankfully met up with my teammate Elise, we bitched and moaned, ate some Gatorade snowcones at the firehouse, and somehow at the end of the day I completed 20 miles only slightly slower than planned (this was my one "easy" long run so was aiming for 7:50-8...somehow managed to finish averaging 8:03). This weekend it's back to the race course for a 20 miler - once again, I'm planning on running this as more of a workout situation, but am not totally sure what that's going to look like yet. Aiming for the whole 20 at GMP seems aggressive, so I'm thinking something more along the lines of starting easy, GMP miles in the middle, a little recovery, and then gunning the finish. I don't know! We shall see...all I know is last time I ran this race it was 7 degrees with -30 degree windchills and I ran like 7:25 pace, so hopefully I can at least beat that!

Tom King Classic

1:33:14 (? short course, 7:10 pace by Garmin)

61/332 OA, 13/125 F, 4/13 F30-34 (the weather definitely kept people away - last year there were 4x as many women in that age group!)

Old Fashioned 10 Mile Race Report

Last Sunday I raced my first 10 miler in a couple of years, the Old Fashioned 10 Miler in Foxboro. I went back and forth for a couple of weeks leading up to the race trying to decide if I wanted to race the 10 miler (which required renting a car, driving to Foxboro, etc) or just racing the mile at the USATF indoor meet which I could run to from my house. In the end, the prospect of having to incorporate a long run into a day with a race that was only a mile just didn't sound appealing, and so I rented my trusty local zipcar Antone (this little red Honda Civic might as well be my car for how frequently I rent it) and headed down to Foxboro Sunday morning. An appealing part of the race was that it didn't start until 10:45, allowing for a leisurely morning even with a 40 minute drive.

I should note here that this was actually my second race of 2019...in fact it should have been my FOURTH race of 2019, but I bailed on my first planned race (a dinky 5K) because I strained my calf, and my second (a track mile) ended up getting cancelled due to a snowstorm. I ran a pretty forgettable 20:10 5K at the Super Sunday 5K - I guess it's a testament to my long career in 5K racing and/or my lack of love for the distance that despite a 20:10 being my second fastest road 5K ever, I was superbly disappointed with my performance and really was left with a bad taste in my mouth from the way I had executed the race. Based on my long runs and workouts I feel that Boston training has been plugging along pretty well, so I was somewhat intrigued to see what I could do over a slightly longer distance.

I arrived at the venue around 9:20 and grabbed my bib and hit the porta potty with little ado. The last time I ran this race it almost was cancelled due to snow, and we ended up running a mystery distance race (I think it was like 5.3 miles) on what course was available. This time the weather was certainly no excuse - it was right around 30-35 degrees, sunny, and no wind...dare I say optimal racing weather for me! I located my teammates and we went out for a warmup while cheering on some of the guys in the 5K - this race also had the option to run a 5K at 10:00, followed by the 10 miler at 10:45 - definitely good marathon prep! By the time the warmup was over I was feeling confident with my choice to race in shorts and a singlet, and soon enough we were jogging towards the start.

I bunched into the corrals with Taylor, who had told me that we should run together doing "7:05's", and Kerri, another teammate who is very fast and I knew wouldn't be near us for long. After the gun went off, I tried to keep things light and relaxed by regaling Taylor with the tale of my most recent long run, during which I had run a "goal marathon pace" mile in 6:30 just...because. She quickly pulled away, and while I was feeling great out of the gate I had a suspicion that we were not, in fact, running anything remotely close to 7:05 pace. My suspicions were confirmed when I came through the mile mark (at least 10 seconds behind Taylor), in 6:30! WHOOPS. Bad move, self. I tried to look at it in a positive light, thinking about how much I could slow down and how easy it would feel! Great! The next mile was 6:40, which still felt fine. And then, like seems to happen to me constantly in races between 10K and half marathon, mile 3 was just a bitch! To be fair, there was a lengthy and significant uphill that encompassed most of this mile, and I think I didn't give myself enough credit for how much we were climbing as it was happening. My left quad, which I continue to realize is horribly imbalanced compared to my right, was seizing and I couldn't seem to get any relief from the hill. Seeing a 7:25 split for mile 3 of 10? Not a great feeling, even with the uphill! I immediately became internally upset at myself, questioning why I have to be so shitty at pacing, why I'm so bad at hills, why I can never run a composed race, etc. This is a consistent struggle that I seem to run into in longer races (and I'm not sure why EVERY damn race I run seems to have a huge hill at mile 3, maybe I should work on my race choices).

I attempted to put the hill behind me but it unfortunately continued to some degree into mile 4, and this combined with my continued left quad struggles left me with another pretty dismal mile split of 7:13. I think I was actually more annoyed than anything else - my breathing was totally fine and from a global perspective I actually felt great, but the muscle strength just was not there...it's almost like I need to run more hills or do some strength work or something! We finally hit some downhill and I started feeling better - I also took some Gatorade somewhere in this vicinity because my general rule is if I come up to a water station and Gatorade sounds good, it's probably a good time for some Gatorade. I managed to find a reasonable groove again through this section, and while I certainly wasn't feeling GREAT, seeing a 6:49 come up for my mile 5 split was definitely heartening. I also encountered one of my coaches in this stretch who was cheering and taking photos, and let the record show that in my mind, I ran by with a beaming smile. In reality....this is what my face looked like:

LMAO honestly what is even happening here

Hideous race photo aside, I continued rolling along and still feeling reasonably good through mile 6, coming through in 6:55. The rolling hills continued throughout the course, but honestly I don't have a problem with little rollers...it's the looong climbs that ruin me. I was passed by a couple of women in this stretch which annoyed me but not quite enough to muster up the strength to go with them. I also encountered an absurdly loud breathing man (I always seem to find those) who I did make an effort to break free from, and I ended up finding a decent little pack of men that I was able to hang out with for awhile. I'm not sure if I got lazy here, but I'm not sure there was any good reason for me to run a 7:09 mile 7...oh well, moving on. I knew the second larger hill of the course was coming up somewhere in the mile 7-8 range, and when it hit it did not disappoint, if being disappointed by large hills is something that happens to you. I struggled up as best I could but I was fully aware that my pace was dropping into the trash. All I could hope for was that my legs would find some kind of final wind for the last two miles, which I knew were at least flat if not downhill. Doing some mental math at the 8 mile mark, I also realized that if I could get back to 7 minute pace for the last 2 miles, I would actually get under 70 minutes - running sub 7 pace in a longer distance race has been a goal FOREVER, one that really has seemed very achievable on paper but never doable in real life. I was really hoping I could hold on and despite a questionable execution, make that happen. 

On the uphill I had been passed by this smaller girl in a green singlet with a white hoodie thing underneath, and I had sort of just let her go because being passed on uphills is just the story of my life. However once we crested the hill, I found myself soon pulling up right behind her. I hung out there for awhile and pondered whether to make the pass, but each time I decided to try this girl would put her head down and UP the pace...in my head I was literally picturing a bull with smoke coming out of its nostrils. Quite frankly at the moment I did not care enough to get into some kind of weird outkicking battle with 2 miles to go, so I decided to just sit on her back and let her block the wind, as much as it is possible for someone several inches shorter than you to do that. Then a guy from her team jumped in to pace her, and I immediately got more grumpy...literally my internal monologue was something like oh SURE, you get someone to PACE you to the finish, because you can't do it on your own, and it's a nice tall guy to block the wind for you, sure, THAT'S fair, god I hate you and your stupid pace lol. I continued to stick behind them but now it was more of a flying V formation, and every so often I could tell the girl was doing a little double check to see if I was still there. We came through mile 9 in 6:45. Now having the majority of the race behind me, finally dropping a reasonable split, and honestly just being straight up annoyed with this power couple, I decided it was finally time to see what was left in my legs. I accelerated and made a decisive pass and for a moment, I thought the girl was going to go with me...but then suddenly, I was past! That was really all the motivation I needed - I put my eyes forward, the fear of being run down behind me, and just went.

Dropping the hammer, you can see my "buddies" behind me

The entire last mile I was just anxiously awaiting the final turn into the parking lot, because I was just about ready to be DONE with this beyotch. Rolling up the final hill, I was pleasantly surprised to see the clock still well under 1:10 - woo hoo! Even splits be damned, I had managed sub-7 pace and a 2:30 PR! 

My feelings post race waffled between annoyance at my wild and crazy splits and feeling like I probably should have run even faster to feeling pretty damn pleased with myself for dropping the hammer on that girl and holding myself together for quite a solid time. Eventually I managed to settle on the latter - on tired legs and full mileage, on a relatively hilly course, in February, this was a great race performance! I also won a raffle prize and got some new running socks, which was an excellent added bonus. Overall, I think this was a really nice race to incorporate into training and I'm really happy I picked it over the indoor track - though I did find myself wishing MULTIPLE times during the race that I had chosen the indoor track while simultaneously being overjoyed that this was a 10 mile race and not a half marathon. Now to just work on my left leg strength, apparently...

Old Fashioned 10 Mile

1:09:36 (PR)

91/609 OA, 18/342 F, 4/87 F30-39