You need a lot of stuff to run twelve miles. Including two pants choices, just in case.
So, this was it: the big kahuna, the longest run on the schedule. Twelve miles, only 1.1 miles fewer than the half-marathon distance. Considering the race is still 5 weeks away, it seemed a bit early to schedule such a long run. Usually you do your longest run three weeks before the race and start tapering (cutting back) from there. But I'm running a ten-mile race the day the other twelve-miler is scheduled, so this was likely my first and only shot at this distance before race day.
I'm sure you're shocked to hear I woke up before the alarm went off. I had trouble getting to sleep last night, too, and when I woke up, I was laughing at something someone had said in German in one of my dreams. (Yes, I am a German speaker.) But it's always good to start the day with a smile on your face, no matter how nutty the source.
I got out the door pretty much on schedule to drive to the group run site. The sun was just peeking above the horizon, splaying orange into my rear-view mirror as I drove, lighting a stunning blue sky unmarred by even a wisp of cloud. The sun was a smoky reddish eye on my right during the last few miles, showing clouds of steam rising off the marsh like so many simmering pots of stew.
I thought nearly everyone would want to come to this run--because who the heck wants to run 12 miles ALONE? (The full marathoners were doing 18! 18 miles!! My mind boggles at the very notion.) That kind of mileage is hard enough to do in a group! And the perfect weather could only help attendance--or so I thought. We were actually a surprisingly small group of only a dozen or so. No Ty, no Mike, no Eric and Heather, no Melissa, no Kelli, no Brittany, no Coach Rob...many folks were missing, much to my disappointment. But most of my core homies were there. I was delighted to see Liz and Angela and Lindsey pull in! And my walker friends Renee and Brad came too--they looked terrific!
Check out Lindsey's new water belt! It has four of those cute little bottles! And it turned out to be a very good thing she had it, too...but I'm getting ahead of myself.We ran a double out-and-back pattern so that we'd only need three different water stops set up. Three miles to the south first, then three miles back to the parking lot, then three miles north and three miles back to the parking lot to make twelve. The temperature was hovering around freezing when we pushed off at about 7:45, and I took the first mile very slowly. It really takes me a good two miles before I feel like all systems are functioning. And it took me about that long to stop feeling cold today.
Doesn't that look inviting?
We hit mile 3 and the first water stop at a leisurely 34:02. I decided I'd have a gel at miles 3, 6, and 9 just to make sure I didn't suffer from Black Hole Stomach syndrome--God, what a vile feeling! I started off with a Tropical gel (and its welcome 25 mg of caffeine); Angela wanted a gel, but there weren't any at the water stop, so I gave her a chocolate one from my pocket. This left me with only one gel, but I knew there was a whole bag of them back at the parking lot, so I wasn't too worried.
I've noticed that if I stand around for too long at a water stop, I get both cold and stiff. At a race, you can keep walking as you drink and just throw the cup off to one side when you're done, but there's no clean-up crew on training runs, so you have to stand there, finish your drink, and tuck the used cup back into the storage bag so it doesn't blow away and litter up the park.
"We can just pretend we're finishing up and heading home," I said as we started back toward the parking lot. One segment down, three to go. It warmed up enough that I removed my hat and gloves at Mile 4, and we saw more and more wildlife as we ran: squirrels, chipmunks, woodpeckers, sparrows and cardinals and chickadees, and geese in the marsh scolding us as we ran past on the boardwalk, our feet clop-clop-clopping like so many horses. The sun was well above the horizon now, a bright gold-white presence at my right shoulder, and nature photographers were out in force, awkwardly schlepping their tripods hither and yon.
We made it back to the parking lot at 1:07:52, marginally faster than the previous segment. The six-mile mark, halfway home. Lindsey and I high-fived each other and eagerly dug into the goodies on the coach's trunk: gels, water, peanut butter pretzels. I quickly found a Hammer Chocolate gel, the identical twin to the one I'd given Angela. Peanut butter pretzels and chocolate gel--it was almost like eating a Reese's. Mmm. (It was good, honest!)
Liz was just running up as I was finishing. "Go on ahead," Lindsey waved me on, "I want to wait for Angela." I didn't have to be told twice and struck out solo on the third segment.
This section of the trail was drier, with stands of deciduous trees on either side and lush green meadows and fields to my right, and the river and the aptly named Riverview Road to my left. The sun winked on-again off-again on my face as it blazed between the tree trunks, and the temperature had warmed so that I was comfortable in a long-sleeve shirt and pants, everything else having been tossed in my car back at Mile 6.
I ran along with a sense of wonder and gratitude--that I could do this at all, and that I had been handed such a glorious day to prove my mettle. I listened to the steady rhythm of my footfalls and my breathing and the birds chittering and chirruping and was endlessly content. The mile markers, stately Washington-Monument-in-miniature engraved concrete pillars probably erected by the WPA, informed me that I was past mile 7, and now mile 8. Only one more mile to the last turnaround, whoo-hoo!
I was behind her for ten minutes before I finally caught her--one of our marathoners whose name escapes me, much to my horror. But I did catch her, and so I had a bit of company as we closed in on the next mile marker and my turnaround.
"Look! There it is!" I pointed gleefully at the cream-colored pillar off to the right of the trail.
"There's supposed to be a water stop here," Marathon Woman said.
There was quite patently no water there. Not a drop. Nothing. Crap. Now what?
"Good luck," Marathon Woman said with a wave, and kept going, because she wasn't turning around for another three miles. (Wow.)
And then I remembered: Lindsey would save me! She had been smart enough to wear a water belt. I turned around and began running back, and not three minutes later, I saw her heading toward me. I explained my predicament, and she was happy to share her water so I could down my last gel. (Thank you, Lindsey! You're my hero!)
That little problem taken care of, I was free to focus on the homestretch. Less than three miles to go, and I would have twelve miles under my belt! I picked up the pace a little more in anticipation, eager to see my little car and lie down on my mat to stretch under that awe-inducingly blue sky and know that I had done it! I had passed the first mile marker (Mile 10) and was closing in on the second (Mile 11) when I looked at my watch and saw I was almost at the two-hour mark. It's worth noting that I ran ONE hour for the very first time less than seven months ago! One muggy morning in late August of 2009, I ran 60 minutes straight, albeit so slowly that I only covered 4.3 miles, but I was ecstatic at my accomplishment. And now here I was doing TWO hours and then some! I took a careful look around me as I hit 2:00:00 on my watch and might have whooped if I'd had more energy left, but I was getting a little tired. I crossed the 11-mile mark about 90 seconds after that and couldn't believe I only had one more mile to go! Well, actually I could believe it, because parts of me were hurting that had never hurt before. Pretty much everything from the neck down hurt. I fished around mentally for a while before I realized my obliques didn't hurt--oh, wait, they hurt if I pressed them. My bad.
At this point, I solemnly swore that I would never, ever skip a Pilates workout again and stretch faithfully every day, not just after running. I thought about my mom, and all of the wonderful people who supported me and donated to the cause, and about what it would feel like to cross the finish line the day of the race. (I suspect it will feel INCREDIBLY AWESOME.)
And then...there it was, in the distance, gleaming brightly in the sun. The final mile marker. The end of the journey. And just past it, the parking lot!!
I don't think I've ever been so delighted to see a parking lot. Ever. Ever ever. Not in the history of the universe ever.
I swept past the mile marker and stopped my watch.
2:12:03.
Hot damn!
Here's how that works out by the numbers:
First six miles: 1:07:52 = 11:19 pace per mile
Second six miles: 1:04:11 = 10:42 pace per mile (37 seconds per mile FASTER!)
Twelve miles as a whole: 2:12:03 = 11:00 pace per mile (WHOO-HOO!)
I hobbled over to the water/gel/pretzel spread and was surprised to see Renee, who had already finished walking her nine miles. She gave me a high-five and her hearty congratulations.
I put my mat on the grass and lay down in the sun, doing my stretches with my eyes closed, feeling the white warmth on my face and trying not to curse too much at the pain. But despite the pain, all I was thinking was I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT!!
No comments:
Post a Comment