I've been moping around a little bit, and so this race report is a day late. On a day at Buda when seemingly everyone I knew had a PR race, some by astounding amounts of time, I had my first really bad race in a long time. I guess it was due to the cold that I had, which knocked me down by just enough to make a 30k race too tough to handle. Anyway, here's the story:
The weather was crisp, cold, sunny, and windy. A strong wind from the North blew from 5-15 mph throughout the race, and the temperature started around 35 degrees and warmed to perhaps low 40's by the end of the race. The wind chill was whatever it was, but the wind was in our faces for most of the first 11 miles of the race, which made things interesting. I went with long pants, after much thought, and wore a long-sleeved and short-sleeved running shirt. I also had my throwaway tyvek jacket over that as a windbreaker.
Gilbert met us before the race, and we did a 1.3 mile warmup jog together and then the usual drills to limber up. A brief stretching session later, we were ready to run. Gilbert showed us the bathroom of choice for this race, on the other side of the stadium from the main restrooms, so we were able to use the facilities with no wait at all. Very nice to know.
I eased into line about 10 minutes before race time, and stood by Gene Woodruff, my 73 year old running friend. We have been running about the same times this year, so he's usually a good guy to keep an eye on in these races. National anthem was a three-part deal from Hays High School girls, not too bad a job, either. After a few (too many) words from Governor Perry, the horn was sounded, and we were off. My plan was to go out and run to a HR number in my aerobic zone for at least the first 13 miles, and then push the last 5.5 miles for a strong finish.
We looped the track at the football stadium, and headed out into the wind. First miles were uneventful. I felt pretty good, in control, and my breathing seemed just fine. It was like a slightly faster paced long training run. My splits were a little faster than I had planned, but I kept trying to ease back on the throttle as I went. I got away from Gene early, but he went by me again at the 10k mark, where I had stopped to walk briefly and take my first Enervitene (GU stuff) with water. He joked that if I kept walking like that, "an old man might beat [me]." I appreciated his humor, and eased up the steep little hill from that spot to catch up with him at the end of mile 7 (just past the cemetery). My overall pace at mile 7 was a nice 8:56/mile, right on schedule. However, my average HR was about 10 bpm higher than I expected, based on past runs at this pace. Something wasn't quite right. I kept an eye on it, and tried to ease my pace back until the HR was where I thought it should be.
Miles 8 and 9 were basically a straight shot down the highway, and during this stretch, I saw the leaders coming back the other way. I didn't see Gilbert, so I had to assume he had suffered an injury, or maybe he just couldn't take the cold weather. He has real problems in big cold weather, since his body fat is about 1% (exaggerated to make a point). I was hearing the song "Wind Cries Mary" by Jimi Hendrix on my mental radio station (no, I don't actually hear voices
Miles 10 and 11 went through a neighborhood, and down to the bottom of the course. At the mile 10 water stop, I took a short walk again to drink water and do another Enervitene. Gene pulled away from me for good during mile 11, after I caught him briefly. It was like I was running in Jello, and I just couldn't get going strong again. Even with a significant downhill in mile 11, I had slowed to a 9:33 split there. At mile 11, my overall pace had slowed to 9:04/mile, still salvageable if I could get my body in the groove. My HR was still high, and although my breathing wasn't too stressed, I could tell that I just wasn't all there.
We turned back towards the finish, and the wind was finally at our backs. I stashed my tyvek jacket in my small pack, and eased up the long uphill stretch out of the neighborhood. I tried to run comfortably, but by now I was being passed by all sorts of people, and I had nothing to respond with. I would try to hang onto people as they went by, but that wouldn't last for more than a few steps. It was terribly frustrating to me, to know that for all practical purposes, I wasn't going to be able to achieve my highest goals for the day. Still, I had 7 miles to go, and no way to get there other than my two feet. I soldiered on.
After getting up mile 12's continuous ascent, I hung on for mile 13, and saw a lot of people at the 9 mile mark there, so I knew I was still ahead of a lot of people. That was a small comfort. I got by the policeman directing traffic at the corner before the 13 mile mark, and then, just after the mile marker, I broke mentally. My splits for mile 12 and 13 were 9:38 and 10:36, and that was just a crushing blow. I knew that any of my goals were out of reach, and nothing was improving. I haven't had a bad spot like this in a long while, and that made it even more devastating when it happened Sunday. Broken, I walked a hundred yards or so, and then shuffled forward to cross the highway again, to get on the proper side of the road for the long finishing leg. The wind was at our backs, but there was still a long way to go. I alternated jogging with walking, trying to find a rhythm.
Miles 14 through 16 were the worst of the day. Why? Because during that stretch, all the people that I knew in the race (all those that weren't obviously way faster than me) passed me as I trudged along the highway, uphill all the way, it seemed. The Governor went by, and I knew I had finished ahead of him in all the previous races. I must have become invisible as I slowed to a crawl, because none of them noticed me (and truthfully, I was too embarrassed to call their names as they went by). Jan, one of my long run training buddies, did notice me, and I encouraged her to finish strong. By the end of this stretch, I knew that I was going to be the slowest Gazelle in the race, and that was painful to know. I jogged the downhill bits and walked most of the uphill bits, and mainly was just trying to get done. These miles were all between 11:00 and 12:00/mile (I'm a fast walker
When we made the final turn for the last 1.64 miles, I was happy to see the mile marker. My splits were terrible by now, but time was the least of my concerns. I kept going back and forth with a guy, both of us struggling. We would talk a bit, and then one of us would get moving better, and then he would slow, and it would be my turn, etc. It gave me something to focus on, at least. I ended up passing him in the last stretch, at least.
Finally, the stadium loomed ahead, and I slid by the mile 18 marker. I resolved to run the entire finishing bit, and at the marker, moved into a survival shuffle. Gritting my teeth, I moved at my slightly faster pace, and made the last two corners, turning onto the track, probably 15 minutes behind my goal time. I passed a few people, grimly, as I cruised around that last 300 yards, and finished in just over 3:05. Average pace 9:58/mile, a full minute per mile more than I had anticipated. When Gilbert encouraged me at the last turn to "butt kick!," I gamely tried to comply, but it was almost comical at that point, given the day I had endured. My finishing "kick," such as it was, was 10:00 pace for the last .64 miles. Not great, but a 2 minute improvement over the mile before.
My thoughts as I crossed the line were of embarrassment, and I almost wanted to slink out of the stadium without seeing any of my fellow Gazelles. I chugged down a Powerade, and got my finisher's shirt (a nice technical running shirt, by the way). Resigned, I went back inside the infield of the track, and found Frank, Alex, Sean, Peter and a host of my running buddies. I sheepishly told them I had a terrible race, and they commiserated with me for a bit. Then, I asked them how they had done, and all I heard was "PR," "Second in Age Group," "Top 200," "Top 100," "First Place Masters," and so on and on. I was really happy for them, truthfully, but I had an almost impossible job of getting rid of my own swirling negative thoughts. I left them for a bit, and went to the car to put on a bunch of dry and warm clothes, since I was chilling down really quickly after the race. I bundled up, drank my Endurox, and went back to the infield for some more post-run chatting and some stretching.
By the time we had decided to leave, about an hour after I had finished, I felt a little better, and I've decided that the nagging cold that blossomed in the last day or two must have impacted me more than I would have expected. Plus, maybe I was just beaten down more from the training than I knew. Or, perhaps I went out too hard early, and that sapped me too much. Whatever the reason, this was the first Challenge race that really didn't fit the profile of a 4:00:00 marathon finisher (well, except for Pervasive, where it was really hot). I need to get my head together in the next 4 weeks, do a proper job of tapering and resting, and run Freescale in a smart and confident fashion.
Gilbert gave us Monday off, and also has told us that we can take Tuesday to do an easy one hour run instead of the 900m repeats scheduled. I will take him up on that option tomorrow morning, then the usual easy run on Wednesday, and I'll be ready for the interesting interval workout on Thursday.
My short term goals are to shake this cold, which seems to have largely left me today (go figure), to recover from Buda, and to run the 3M Half Marathon in two weeks as a true marathon paced training run, sort of long pace run. 3M should be comfortable at that pace, so much so that I feel like running more after it's finished. If I can do that, I'll be ready for Freescale two weeks after that. My Freescale goals are still reachable, since all the hard work up to now hasn't just gone away. I just need to get positive again for that effort.
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