Posts Tagged by race recap
Joe Kleinerman 10K Classic Recap
| January 9, 2012 | Posted by Lauren under Running |
Otherwise known as the day I decided to run all races of 2012 in a veil.
This weekend was one of many firsts:
- First race of 2012
- First ever 10K
- First ever NYRR race
- First road race I’ve run with people the entire time
- First time I’ve finished a race hand-in-hand with someone (sorry EC!)
- First race run in a veil (because yes, there will be more)
- annnd first time run/walking a race (not counting marathons where I’ve walked through water stops)
If you had told me a couple weeks ago that I would walk during a 10K, I would have just laughed. If you haven’t noticed from any of my previous posts, I am a very competitive person when it comes to running. So competitive, in fact, that when I was younger I used to tell people that I hated competing – solely because I got incredibly upset when I didn’t do well. I know that I’m not going to win a big race or turn professional anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to bust my butt to run as fast as I possibly can when I get on that starting line. Even during relay races, which I do completely for fun, I take off as soon as I get that baton in my hand and don’t stop until I reach the exchange. I take pride in knowing that every time I run a race, I do it to the best of my ability.
So when I found out the night before my 10K debut that the plan was for Ali and I to run/walk this thing together with Emily, I can’t say I was super excited. A good friend would have said, “Emily, I am so excited to celebrate your return to running with a race. If you need to walk as a part of your recovery, don’t worry. I am here for you. We will conquer this thing together and finish excited about your awesome comeback!”
But I am not always a good friend. So instead, my reaction was more along the lines of “Are you serious?!” while simultaneously wracking my brain for ways to get out of it. What can I say – when it comes to running, I have a little too much pride. Luckily, Emily is a good sport and could take a little ribbing from Ali and I. Ultimately her excitement for her first race post-injury, combined with plans to celebrate my engagement on the run (literally) made me come around. And in the end, the entire experience made for the most fun road race I’ve ever done.
10 Reasons Why the Joe Kleinerman 10K Race is My Favorite Road Race of All Time
1.) An amazing carbo-loading dinner.
On Friday night, Chef Brian prepared us all a gourmet feast. Everyone knows you need lots of fuel before races, even when you plan on run/walking them.
2.) I received my shirt and race bib wrapped up as a gift. How often does that happen?!
Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue
Ali and Emily surprised me with a pile of gifts when I arrived in the city on Friday night. Each one was a hand picked “treasure” to celebrate my engagement.
They even drew me a picture of my dream wedding. Talk about some thoughtful friends.
In case you can’t tell, that’s me running toward the finish line/EC with packets of Gu lining the aisle while Emily and Ali toss cheese from the side. Complete with my #teamwatermelon wedding colors, of course.
3.) I ran in a veil.
You might think this would be annoying. But believe me – nothing takes the pressure off a race quite like having a tacky veil on your head, complete with a tiny bride and groom on top.
4.) Team Watermelon.
I’d say that this race involved the best execution of Team Watermelon race outfits so far. We were lucky that it was warm enough to wear shorts/skirts in January (I don’t know what is with this winter weather, but I’m definitely not complaining!). In our bright pink and green outfits, we didn’t exactly blend into the crowd.
5.) The great company.
Like I mentioned above, I don’t usually run an entire race with someone else. I’ve tried in the past, but the competitive nature of races usually means that we split up before the end. With Ali and Emily by my side, the miles passed by much faster than I thought they would…even though we weren’t running at a 10K pace and stopped to walk. I felt amazing and relaxed as I chatted and laughed with these girls the entire way.
6.) Our race strategy.
The plan was for Emily to be the sole “holder of the watch” and the official time keeper. That way she would tell us when she had to stop for a break, and we could trick Ali into running faster than she thought she could (mind over matter!). We started out weaving our way through a very congested crowd, and then just fell into a pace that felt quick, but relaxed. After 3 miles, we pulled over to the edge of the course for a quick walk break where we practiced our power walking skills. We tried not to push Emily and once she was ready, we started running again. We took one more short walk break about another mile later and then picked it up for a strong finish. Overall, we only walked for about 5 minutes, and ended up pushing faster than I thought we would during the running portions. Not exactly my normal “run until you want to puke your brains out strategy,” but it was 1000x times more fun.
Okay, so we may have badgered Emily to pick up the pace just a little bit. Fact: she is not the world’s best power walker.
7.) The crowd support.
I have never gotten more cheers during a race than I did during last Saturday’s 10K. It was so much fun to banter back and forth with our fellow runners. We received a wide range of comments. Anything from “Congratulations!” to “Good luck!” to “Don’t do it!!” And my favorite – a male runner telling Ali and I that “marriage is a beautiful thing” as we ran by hand in hand.
8.) Passing people in a sparkle skirt is awesome. Passing them in a skirt and a veil? Priceless.
(Yes, I realize that I got passed by far more people than I passed. But still…)
9.) Getting photographed for the NYRR website.
As we were walking back from the race, we ran into one of the official photographers. She was so excited to see us that she held her own photoshoot right there. Last night I checked the NYRR website, and saw that we made the gallery! My only regret is that she didn’t capture our entire watermelon outfits in all their glory.
(via NYRR Faces of the Race Gallery)
Added bonus: apparently she’s also a wedding photographer. A photographer that also speicalizes in taking race photos!? She’s hired! …if only I had actually gotten her name.
10.) The post-race celebration.
In what is becoming a great Ali-Emily-Lauren tradition, we got home from the race and immediately started celebrating with mimosas – a celebration that continued for the entire day. I may have woken up the next morning feeling way too sick for a scheduled 10 mile run, but a short jaunt through the park with Ali made it all better.
Even though it wasn’t my fastest race ever, overall I’d declare the Joe Kleinermain 10K a roaring success! Family and friends beware – I’ve already decided that I will be organizing a 5K for all guests on the morning of my wedding. I haven’t actually cleared this with EC yet, but who wouldn’t want to start the day with a race?!
—
For anyone who is interested, my official time was 50:51 (8:13/mile). Which I suppose is technically my 10K PR. Hopefully there’s nowhere to go from here but up!
Old Mountain 5K Trail Race Recap
| December 20, 2011 | Posted by Lauren under Running |
[Edited to add: I forgot to mention that I ran this race without my Garmin or any sort of watch. Garmins tend to be inaccurate on trails anyway. It was weird to run an entire race without any feedback along the way (I'm used to at least having a regular stop watch or some sort of time keepers at the mile markers) but it was also strangely freeing. Definitely something I'm going to do more often.]
On Sunday, I ran my last race of 2011. It wasn’t my fastest race of the year, and it certainly wasn’t my furthest. But I did learn a few very important lessons:
1.) A race that is marketed as a trail race with “technical portions” is probably not going to be like the cross country courses I ran on in high school and college.
2.) All it takes is a personal email from the Race Director to erase any frustration about a race mix up and make me excited about doing the next one in the series.
And most importantly,
3.) 23 degrees is not too cold to run in shorts…as long as you have a pair of soccer socks to cover your calves. (Did you hear that, Dad? I’m still staying strong with No Tights December!)
Oh, and a beautiful pair of “precious” gloves to keep your hands warm.
But, I should probably back up a little bit.
A few weeks ago while researching winter races, I came across the South County 4th Season Race Series and discovered that their inaugural race, a trail 5K, was being held the weekend before Christmas. After telling EC how trail races can be fun and make you feel like you’re just playing in the woods, he agreed to run the thing with me.
So on the coldest morning of the year so far, EC and I made the trek down to South Kingstown for our first non-relay race together – the Old Mountain 5K Trail race. At that point, I can’t say either of us were all that thrilled to be racing in frigid temperatures. But since neither of us wanted to be the wimp who bailed on the other, we sucked it up and tried to pump each other up.
It was only after we had gotten to the field and started doing a warm up that I realized that neither of us really had any idea what we were getting ourselves into. Before the race, I figured I knew all about trail racing. I had run cross country, after all, so clearly I knew what it was like to race on trails, grass, and rocky hills.
A few seconds of warming up on the race course was all it took to make me realize that this was no cross country-style trail. This was a small, narrow path through the woods with streams to cross, rocks to climb, and tiny bridges to run over. This was the type of trail we used to practice slow, easy runs on – not race. As we scrabbled over countless roots and tried to find the narrow track through the woods, a poor shocked EC remarked, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to run any faster than this!”
This was not the actual trail we raced on, but I swear some parts looked like this!
(Source)
We finished our jog and starting making the final preparations with one last stop at the porta-potties. Unfortunately, not everyone was quite as prepared as the two of us were. The registration/check in line was longer than ever. In order to give all the runners in line a chance to get their numbers, the race was going to be delayed a half an hour.
A race delay on a normal day is frustrating. Having one on a day when it’s nearly impossible to keep warm is pretty much torture. Finally, after what felt like forever, EC and I joined the clump of people on the field for the start. There was no marked starting line, and until the Race Director came out and explained the beginning of the course to us, I couldn’t even tell what direction we were going in. I tried to work my way around the mass of bodies to get near the front but was not successful. And then, with a simple, “On your mark, get set, go!” from the RD we were off! I said goodbye to EC and surged out.
The course started on a wide open stretch of grass but then almost immediately converged into a very narrow section that ran around the edge of a baseball field. It was impossible to get any sort of position on the steeply sloped bank. As soon as it flattened out, I knew I only had a short window to get around people before the woods. So I weaved and bobbed as much as I could, passing the one woman that I could see in front of me.
Once we got into the woods, everyone just kind of settled in. We were running in a single file line and the only thing I had to do was follow the feet in front of me. I couldn’t help but think how fun this little run in the woods was….until it hit me that the leisurly pace I was keeping wasn’t exactly a 5K race pace. Since there wasn’t really anything I could do about it at the moment, I just followed closely behind the runner in front and waited for my time to strike.
That first mile was definitely the hardest. After running over a series of small wooden bridges and a section with rocks piled everywhere, we hit a huge, seemingly never ending hill. I tried not to look up at the stream of runners ascending ahead of me and just laughed as my legs stopped moving with any sort of speed. It was all I could do not to climb up that thing on all fours.
Again, not the real course – but we also ran over a lot of little bridges like this
(Source)
After that part, the course became more of a blur. There were little orange flags lining the route, signs with arrows on them pointing out the turns, and mile markers at every mile. But since I wasn’t wearing a watch, I had absolutely no idea how fast I was going when I hit that first mile marker. I figured that between the bottle-necked start and the steep hills, it was probably pretty slow. I tried to focus on picking up the pace and slowly reeling in the runners ahead of me.
But the trail didn’t get much easier from that point on. At one point in the course, it all but disappeared, leaving nothing but the little orange flags and line of runners ahead to guide me through the underbrush. I crossed so many little streams that I stopped counting after the second one. And we ran across and down surfaces covered with large, slick rocks where all I could think about was putting my feet down carefully enough so that I wouldn’t fall.
During this long section of the course, a ton of thoughts were going through my head:
I can’t feel my legs!
Good thing I can’t feel my legs – it means I can’t feel the scratches I’m getting from all this brush.
This is amazing!!
Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
Ugh. I forgot how long the second mile of a 5K feels. Where is that sign!?
This course must be marked wrong. I know I must’ve run at least 4 miles by this point!
Oh, two miles. Phew. Okay, you’re going to make it. Just hold on.
This is amazing!!
I’m so tired. Am I really this out of shape?
The course opened up and crossed over some grassy fields and a short section of bike path. You’d think that at this point I would be happy to have flat ground under me, but I hated it. Flat ground meant I actually had to pick up the pace. And my lead-filled legs and burning lungs did not want to move even the slightest bit faster.
I had no idea how I was doing or how fast I was running. I figured I wasn’t going to be setting any new records today, but I did know that there was a chance I was one of the first women. I tried to keep pushing myself along, but I admit – it is a little hard to stay motivated to move fast when I know I’m not going to be running even close to PR pace.
Just as I was struggling to find ways to keep myself pushing, a volunteer who was directing runners saw me and shouted, “Go!! First woman!!!!” That was all the motivation I needed. I can’t say that I suddenly shifted gears into an impressively fast pace, but I did try my best not to slip back.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, I could hear the cheers of the finish. We were still back in the woods though, winding along a narrow path and climbing down rocks. I couldn’t see anything (or even sprint for that matter), but I let that sweet sound of the crowd pull me in.
I crossed the finish line in a blistering 23:31, so excited to be done. EC finished a few minutes later with a huge smile on his face. He kept telling me how awesome that was. And how he bet he had more fun than I did, since he was just running along at a steady pace instead of trying to kill himself on that tough course.
Oh EC, don’t you know by now that I think trying to run fast is fun!?
I excitedly told him that I thought I was the first woman, so we hung around for a little bit for the awards. But when the overall winners were announced, instead of hearing my name, the RD called out someone else. She seemed shocked, and hesitated for a minute but then had no problem going up to accept her prize. I was confused, but we were running a trail race, after all. And she was standing in a group with some of the faster guys who had run that day. So I just figured that she had gotten ahead of me right from the start and I never saw her in the woods.
I got called up for winning my age group and happily accepted a new pair of Saucony arm warmers – in lime green, of course. Since we had a Christmas party to get to, we left as soon as my name was called. I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind (I had still won a prize, after all!) but secretly I couldn’t wait until the results went up so that I could go back and check.
The next morning I woke up to a very exciting email:
Lauren,
Thank you for running the Old Mountain 5k Trail Race. It came to my attention while processing the results that there was a mix up with bib numbers and the women’s overall winner was announced in error…it was in fact, YOU! Congratulations and my apologies on the mistake. Please accept a free entry into the next race for the error.Preliminary results are posted at: http://racesplitter.com/races/6F53F4DBC/resultsRace pictures and more information on future races will soon be posted to the series website: https://sites.google.com/site/4thseasonraces/Thanks again and nice running
It’s funny how much a simple email can change your entire perspective on a race. I had won!! My first time with an actual race win!
When could I sign up for the next one!?
Overall, I had a great time at my first real trail race. It was tough, but I loved that it was basically one big obstacle course from start to finish. I definitely think these races need to be a part of my regular rotation. And I think EC might be hooked right along with me.
Final stats:
Time: 23:31 (7:35/mile) - in comparison, the winning male crossed in 19:17. So that means everyone was slowed down a bit, right?
Place (overall): 23/146
Place (females): 1!
—
And just in case you’re looking for even more reasons to ditch the Garmin, there was an interesting (and timely for this blog!) article published in the NY Times yesterday about just how unreliable our beloved GPS watches can be. I especially loved reading the Great GPS Test that the article linked to. Where does your watch stack up?
I think it’s important to realize that GPS watches aren’t always 100% accurate but these articles DO make me think – with any of the Garmin tests, I’m just wondering – how is the “accurate” distance actually determined? The NY Times article references Google Maps, but I’m curious as to how we can trust that that is more accurate than the distance calculated by a GPS watch? I’m no expert, but I wouldn’t think that it is…
2011 Marine Corps Marathon Race Recap
| November 3, 2011 | Posted by Lauren under Running |
It’s a little scary to me that when I think back on the Marine Corps Marathon, the race is already becoming a bit of a blur. For whatever reason, that post-marathon amnesia has kicked in earlier than ever this time. If it weren’t for the intense pain in my quads that’s still making it difficult to go down stairs, I would be convinced that this race is one that I had run in the distant past.
I can’t really figure out why my brain has decided to start blocking out parts of this marathon already. Sure, it was painful – but not moreso than other marathons that I’ve run. And I ran hard, but again, not really all that much faster than I ran in the spring. I’d like to pretend it’s because I was just so darn focused for all 26.2 miles. But I think it might be because maybe (just maybe) after 6 marathons and countless other races, my body is finally starting to realize that it can survive the assault.
Anyway, I am going to try to do this race justice, and I’m sure despite my faulty memory, this recap will be wordy (just par for the course, right?) So settle in, my friends. And I’ll tell you how my second marathon in Washington D.C. this year went down.
The Start
Funny story: before the National Marathon last March, I got “introduced” to Dorothy on Twitter because we were both trying to break 3:20 at the same race. Even though we had never met, we made plans (online) to try to race together, figuring we could push each other to PR. But the craziness of marathon morning combined with the small fact that I wasn’t exactly sure what Dorothy even looked like meant that we never met up. And it wasn’t until Hood to Coast that I finally met this girl whose blog I had been reading with awe for some time.
Marine Corps was the “take two” of our plan. Luckily, this time, things went flawlessly. Dorothy picked EC and I up from my sister’s house at 5:40 Sunday morning to drive to the start. Or, I should more accurately say – the finish. In order to beat the crowds, we decided to go to Rosslyn, where there are plenty of free parking spaces and the starting line is an easy walk away. After a few slightly stressful moments due to roads being unexpectedly closed, we made it to Rosslyn in good time. I was nervous, but not incredibly so. Normally I’m so anxious about the marathon that I have a hard time forcing down a pre-race breakfast. But on Sunday, I ate my entire bagel without complaint. A weird sort of excited calm had washed over me. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t put any real pressure on the race, or maybe it was just knowing Dorothy and I were in this together.
We hung out in the garage for awhile, then started to make our way down to the start. It was dark and quiet – most of the crowds had been directed to Cyrstal City and the Pentagon.
As we walked down the finishing hill from the Iwo Jima monument, I tried to think about what it would feel like to race back up that thing in a few hours. But as the steep incline forced my legs into a run down the hill, I tried to push all those thoughts out of my mind. How bad could it really be?
The walk to the start helped me keep my feeling of excited calm. I felt a burst of excitement as soon as I heard the music blaring and saw the arches that marked the starting line. And again when they started the pre-race ceremonies around 7:30. Two teams of tandem jumpers (including a Marine who was injured in Afghanistan over the summer) jumped out of a plane and carried the US flag.
A firing salute, the National Anthem, and aircraft flying overhead just as the sun was rising? Pretty amazing stuff. And as cheesy as it sounds, at that moment, I was so excited and so incredibly inspired to be taking part in this marathon. It is unlike any other I have ever run.
In the last few minutes leading up to the race, I made the final pre-race preperations as EC continued to snap pictures and fawn over celebrities.
Let’s play guess the celeb! Bonus points to anyone who correcty identifies both. In case you need a little help:
Finally, it was time to line up. As I mentioned in my last post, there aren’t any assigned corrals in MCM – you just line up based on your predicted finish time. Knowing how many people were running that day, Dorothy and I lined up near the front. It was freezing cold – all I could do was hope that the I’d feel good once I started moving.
At 8:00, the gun went off and I let out an excited yell (yes, I really did this. No, I didn’t exactly plan to. I guess I was that excited to run.) The 36th MCM had begun!
The Hilly Beginning
The beginning of the race is known for being hilly, particularly in the first two miles. Because of that, I’ve heard people say that you should look at MCM as an 8 mile warm-up and a 18 mile race. As thousands of runners streamed out onto the MCM course, Dorothy and I purposely held ourselves back. The plan was to go out relaxed and easy, and then negative split the heck out of that course.
We fell into pace easily, chatting a little and reveling in the excitement of running. We had agreed not to waste energy weaving around people at the beginning, which meant that sometimes we ran side by side, and other times one of us was slightly in front. But Dorothy’s pink hat was always in sight, and knowing that she was there, prepared to run this race with me made me more excited than I could even describe. We cruised through the first mile right around 8 minutes; the second just under. I felt relaxed and excited – inspired by all the service men and women and wheelchair participants racing around me.
After the second mile, there was unspoken agreement to pick up the pace. We cruised along for the next couple of miles, not talking much except to point out random things – or Dorothy telling me what to expect coming up on the course. I knew we might be seeing EC around mile 5, so as we headed into Georgetown, I started scanning the crowd searching for a familiar face. When I didn’t find him, I settled back in again, knowing that I wouldn’t get another chance until mile 8 or 9.
Our pace had dropped below 7:30 but I was still feeling pretty relaxed. The only problem was – my legs weren’t feeling fresh. I didn’t feel like I was on the verge of falling apart, but my legs felt sore and a little bit heavy, as though I had run an intense hill workout the day before instead of just sitting around on my butt. But when you’re only a few miles into a marathon, the only choice you have is to ignore the pain – so I pressed on.
We hit another steep hill in the 7th mile, and then headed into Georgetown. People were everywhere. And because I had ironed my name onto my shirt (first time ever doing this!) so many of them were shouting my name. It felt pretty amazing.
And then, suddenly in the midst of all this, I felt an intense pain in my right quad. It was as if the entire muscle had seized up in protest of what I was doing to it. I had a quick panic attack, wondering what the heck was going on. But I didn’t stop. I just kept running, took a Gu, and prayed that I’d be able to just run the pain out. Fortunately, after what seemed like forever but must’ve only been a few tenths of a mile, the pain loosened up. Unfortunately, after that my quads didn’t feel quite the same.
Soon after the quad episode, EC came sprinting towards us out of the crowd. I was so incredibly excited to see him. It gave me a huge boost, and in that moment I convinced myself that everything was going to be alright.
Hello, good to see you, now give me my things!
He ran next to me chatting for a bit, snapped a few glamour shots, and then we were on our way. It was then and there that I admitted something to myself that I had really known all along. I wasn’t just going out there to “see” how I could do. I wasn’t just enjoying the sights and sounds of MCM with the plan to stroll leisurely to the finish. No matter what my training had been like over the past few months, today I was there for one reason only – to race.
I was going to run until my legs fell off.
The “Flying High” Miles
The next several miles passed by in a bit of a blur. We had picked up the pace a lot and that fact had made me strangely giddy with excitement. Normally in marathons I get anxious about going out too fast and blowing up later. But not on Sunday. We were racing. And it felt.so.good. We passed the 3:15 pace group right at mile 10, and I told Dorothy that was the first time in any race that I had done so. That next mile was my favorite of the whole entire marathon. People were lining both sides of the course, holding awesome signs and cheering so loudly for us – as though #teamwatermelon were famous celebrities. I was never more in love with marathoning as I was at that minute.
I hadn’t really looked at my watch at all over the past couple of miles. My only thought was to keep running with Dorothy. I didn’t care what my pace was, I felt like I could run forever. So imagine my surprise later when I looked through my splits and saw that I ran mile 11 in 6:59 – my fastest mile of any marathon ever. In hindsight, this may not have been the smartest racing plan, but I’m glad that I at least didn’t see the split and give myself a chance to freak out about it.
And then, because a marathon is a roller coaster ride, everything suddenly started changing. The high I was feeling during Mile 11 began to slip away and I found myself starting to struggle in Mile 12. My legs didn’t feel right, and I was having trouble focusing. So I put in one headphone, turned on the music, and told myself to stay with Dorothy until the Half.
Half Marathon Split: 1:36:55 (7:23/mile)
It’s All Downhill From Here
As bad as I felt to be ignoring Dorothy, the music helped with my focus. The next several miles were a bit lonely as we ran through Haines Point and around the Tidal Basin. I willed my legs to continue carrying me forward. I knew I would see EC again around Mile 15 or 16, so my new goal became to stick with Dorothy until I saw him. I didn’t let any negative thoughts about how far I had left to go enter my head. Instead, the race became solely about those next couple of miles. Finally, just before I saw EC again at Mile 16 I told Dorothy that I was going to have to drop back. I was struggling with a strange pain in my quads that felt like ripples of tiny cramps. And my legs just did not want to move. She told me to hang in there, that I would feel good again, and pressed on.
When I saw EC again, I tried my best not to fall apart. I told him that my legs were hurting and that I could feel my pace crumbling. He told me to hang in there, and that he would see me again at Mile 20. I turned up the music, and focused on just making it to Mile 20. If I could get there, I could finish.
Can we just take a minute and reflect on what is going on with my stride here? Apparently “tip-toeing” through the course helps you feel better when your legs are hurting.
Those next few miles were the lowest point in the race for me. I felt like I was literally watching my time slip away, and I was powerless to stop it. It’s one of the most frustrating feelings you can experience in a marathon – wanting so badly in your head to keep moving fast, yet feeling helpless to actually move your legs. The only saving grace for this part of the marathon is that you run through the National Mall. I tried to focus on the beauty of the course, but I was in my own little world.
Eyes closed = Lauren is in pain
Finally, after what seemed like forever, I was at Mile 20 and seeing EC again. He was standing with his cousin, who had come into D.C. just to cheer for me. Both of them were screaming and yelling my name – and I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t really give them the warmest welcome. At this point in the race, I was just mad. I knew I had no business thinking I could PR, but I had tasted it. I had seen what it felt like to run sub-3:15 pace and I wanted it. And now that my legs weren’t doing what my head told them to do, I just got pissed.
This is the first and last picture Evan tried to take of me around Mile 20. See that face? It’s not one that welcomes cameras.
Despite my anger, EC did his best to cheer me up. He ran with me for a little while, and I tried to regain some of the positive attitude that I’d had earlier. I passed off my water bottle and arm warmers, and prepared to grit it out for the last 10K.
The Final Push
Somewhere after Mile 20, the 3:15 group passed me again. I tried to hang with them for a few minutes, but it just wasn’t happening. I remember looking off into the distance, seeing Dorothy’s pink hat bobbing among the crowd, and willing her to keep that group away.
As the course ran along the never-ending 14th Street Bridge, I started calculating how much time I had left for the last 10K. All I could think about was the 3:20 pace group. I could not let them pass me too. I realized that if I managed to keep my pace under 8:00 minutes/mile, I just might PR – or at least tie my time from National. From that point on, that became my sole goal. And when I reached Mile 21, something came over me. My legs still felt heavy, and I was still so tired, but I was suddenly hit with a new resolve. I picked up the pace (sort of) and knew with all my heart: I was going to run a sub-3:20 today.
We finally got off the bridge and ran through Crystal City. I saw runners coming at me in the other direction, and just focused on making it to the turn-around. I don’t remember much about this part of the course at all. I remember there were crowds of people, and I remember that at some point, I realized I was catching back up to Dorothy. I focused on her back and kept running. When I finally caught up, I asked her how she was doing and felt awful to hear that she too was struggling. I tried encouraging her, but at that moment, I really had nothing left. I kept running, half expecting that she would stay with me. Dorothy – I’m really sorry that I left you there. My head wasn’t thinking straight.
Miles 25 – 26 seemed to stretch on forever. I knew I was going to be so close to my time at National and kept trying (and failing) to will my legs faster, all the while dreading the hill that was coming before the finish. My watch finally ticked off 26 miles, but the finish was still nowhere in sight. I didn’t know how much further I could go.
Suddenly, we turned the corner and there it was - the wall. I felt like I had been hit with a ton of bricks. If I hadn’t been in so much pain already, the situation would have been almost funny. Scaling a mountain on trashed legs? I can only imagine what I looked like running up that thing. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on taking one step at a time, but I knew my pace had slowed down to a crawl. I was afraid to look down at my watch, convinced that my hope of PR’ing had just completely disappeared. Somehow, I finally reached the top of the hill, but it didn’t matter. There would be no glorious sprint to the finish – my legs were shot. I saw the finish line and it was all I could do to waddle toward it. Apparently there were crowds of people (including EC and his cousin) cheering us toward the line, but I saw none of that. All I saw was that line, and a PR time that had gone out the window.
Finally, after an eternity, I crossed that finish. And I looked down at my watch and immediately burst into tears. I was shocked to discover that I had done it – I had PR’d by the skin of my teeth.
Dear Marathonfoto – I’m sorry for stealing your pictures.
Final Time: 3:18:09*
Pace: 7:34/mile
Overall Place: 578; Gender Place: 76/8,530; Division Place: 20
(*This originally said 3:18:08 when I crossed which meant that I PR’d by 10 seconds. The site now has me listed as 3:18:09. I know I shouldn’t really care about one little second, but I can’t help but wish I had moved just a teeny bit faster. Oh well. Next time I will crush that PR by more than mere seconds.)
—
If you’ve read this far, thank you! Going into MCM, I did not expect to PR. But apparently 2011 was the year of the 3:18 marathon. I have so many thoughts about my training and what this means for the future, but I won’t bore you with them now. What I will say, though, is thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your encouragement and support throughout the weekend. Every time I crossed a mat on the course, I knew you would be seeing my times – which gave me strength and helped me keep going even when things started looking rough.
Marathon #7 – I am ready for you.
2011 NH Reach the Beach Relay Recap
| September 30, 2011 | Posted by Lauren under Running |
It’s totally acceptable to post a race recap 2 weeks after a race, right? I promise this will not become a trend.
Two weeks ago today, I was on my way up to Cannon Mountain for the start of the 13th Reach the Beach relay in New Hampshire. Well, technically we were still on a desperate quest for a replacement vehicle, but you get my drift…
After all the frustration and anxiety leading up to this race, getting up to Cannon felt so good. And once we arrived, all that anxiety quickly melted away. It didn’t matter that we had spent our morning fighting Boston traffic to get a new van, or that we were almost late arriving to the start, or even that there were 6 of us crammed into a minivan for the weekend – the relay was about to start, and it was going to be awesome no matter what.
Especially because the {ontherun} team was reunited for a race for the first time in months.
At about 11:50 am on Friday morning, our wave finally started. Team Buttermore was headed to the beach!
On Fresh Legs
Kimmy was runner #1 and had an 8 mile leg right out of the gate. After the course changes the officials had to make, her leg was by far the longest in our first round. But that didn’t phase her one bit. She got us out to a strong start and didn’t stop smiling the entire way.
While Kimmy ran, our motley crew of 6 decorated on the fly.
Our van got more decorated as the relay went on.
This year, in order to avoid a section of road washed out by Hurricane Irene, race organizers basically designed a course that went out for a couple of legs and then turned around and doubled back. This meant that Van 1 runners finished up at a different spot than Van 2 started. In order to keep track of our time, the 6th runner in the rotation needed to wear a chip on his ankle, which would record how long it had taken us to run the first 6 legs. Then Van 2 would start at the normal transition point at a pre-assigned time based on our predicted pace. So we never actually made a hand off between our first sets of legs, and we never got to see the other half of our team until the start of our 2nd . It was crazy and a little bit annoying, but given the circumstances, I’m not quite sure there was anything else that could have been done.
Last year, I ran Leg #2, which was (and still is) the longest relay leg I’ve ever run. Originally, I had planned to run this leg again, and would cover a total of 22 miles over the course of the relay. But the changes to the 2011 course meant that my original run had to be cut in half. I swapped places with EC (to get the higher mileage) and then the two of us pretty much just shared what used to be one leg. He started us off, and I finished it.
EC’s first leg was pretty short. In just a little over 3 miles, he’d be handing off to me. So I got dressed in my watermelon finest (green Team Sparkle skirt and all) and got ready to crush that first leg.
Sadly the only picture I have of the race outfit is this tiny one that Kimmy posted on Twitter (Becky might have more, but she’s not sharing…):
So you’ll pretty much just have to use your imagination. For reference, please see this post.
Anyway…I lucked out and ended up getting the uphill half of the leg. But don’t let the map fool you. The hill was long and noticable, but it actually wasn’t as bad as it looks. This was by far my easiest leg of the three.
When EC handed me the slap bracelet, all I could think about was how excited I was to run. There had been so many emotions leading up to this race, and all of those were bottled up, ready to power me through the miles. Plus, entering New Hampshire had been like entering a completely different world. We had left the hot, humid days of summer behind, and instead were faced with glorious cool, crisp fall days. It was a runner’s heaven.
The first mile of my leg included a little downhill and I took off. I chicked skirted two people right at the start, and used that motivation to just keep going. I couldn’t believe how great my legs felt. I knew I was pushing the pace, but I never felt like I was running so fast I wouldn’t be able to finish. So when I looked down at my watch and saw that I was running sub-7:00s, I was actually in shock. And then I made up a new goal on the fly – to keep my splits under 7:00 minutes/mile for as long as I possibly could. The hill started climbing up, but I just picked up my knees and kept moving.
Somewhere between Mile 2 and Mile 3, I got a bit of a shock – people were standing on the other side of the road, waving runners into a transition. I kept looking down at my watch in a panic – I couldn’t be at the end yet! Did they shorten my leg without me knowing? If I had known, I would’ve tried to run way faster than I was going. But after a few panicked glances at the volunteers, they waved at me to keep going. I looked ahead, confused. It was only then that I realized a line of runners coming in the opposite direction. It was the transition for Runner #6.
This was the first time I had realized that we were literally running out and then back, and I wasn’t exactly happy about it. The entire puprose of a relay is to move your runners from Point A to Point B. It’s cool to think that even when you aren’t out there running, someone on your team is moving that slap bracelet down to the finish. I won’t pretend that this realization didn’t affect me at all, or didn’t make me feel just a little bit discouraged. But in the end, it was what it was, and all I needed to do was just keep running.
So I did. The hill climbed up, but I kept pushing the pace. And with the exception of a steep section between miles 3.5 and 4 that just about broke my spirits, I was so hapy to sprint into the transition point seeing that I had met my goal!
Final Stats: 5.6 miles in 37:38 (6:43/mile)
I handed off to Becky, who ran our last leg out before Steve and Sean turned us around and headed back the way we came.
Steve (who, it turned out, is not only a fast runner but also an awesome relay race photographer) took off like he was running the 400 meter dash and managed to maintain a just over 6:00 minute pace for his entire leg.
And Sean, who was running his first race ever (I think Becky’s craziness must have rubbed off on him just a little), stepped on the competition on his way to the win.
Photo courtesy of Steve
At about 3:30 in the afternoon, Van 1 was done.
On Upset Stomachs
It was time to make our way down to Conway for some nourishment. Unfortunately, for reasons unkown to us, Van 2 wasn’t going to be starting until 5:30 pm. So even though we had all run fast legs to make up time, the rest of our team would still have a long wait before they could run. And we were left with an unheard of amount of rest time.
So we drove (for a very long time). And we ate pizza.
Why I continue to think that pizza is a good relay meal is beyond me. This wasn’t feeling so great in my stomach at 12:30 in the morning
Drank nuun
Spreading the Nuun and After-NUUN Delight love - Photo courtesy of Steve
And got excited to run again.
Photo courtesy of Steve
Photo courtesy of Steve
My second leg was just under 5 miles and was rated moderate. The elevation profile looked like a roller coaster.
By the time EC handed off to me, my stomach was a mess once again. Next time, I need someone to remind me that while pizza may seem like a really great idea after Leg #1, I’m going to be cursing that decision during Leg #2.
But if relays have taught me anything, it’s how to keep running even when your stomach is revolting. So when I got that slap bracelet, I tried to quiet my stomach and just run.
This leg ran along Rt 25 for pretty much the entire way. Despite that fact that it was on a main stretch of road, the run itself was pretty lonely. I started near one other runner and then was quickly on my own for the miles. And the rollers seemed to start right up. For every downhill that I enjoyed, there was an uphill soon after to slow me down. I knew in my head that the leg was moving gradually downhill toward the finish, but it certainly didn’t feel that way. My pace was all over the place as I tried to hang on during the uphill sections and take off down the other side. But surprisngly, somehow I was still running strong. Every time my watch clicked another mile below 7:00 minutes, my determination to keep it that way grew even stronger.
A couple miles into the leg, I heard fast footsteps behind me. Suddenly – some guy was effortlessly gliding up the hill next to me, blowing by me in what seemed like the blink of an eye. And one by one, a trail of speedy runners started trickling by. The corporate teams had caught us. Each time one of them came up to pass me, I’d try to hold on behind them for as long as I could. But ultimately they all left me in their dust.
If you pass 10 people on a leg but get passed by 7 (different) runners, can you still count the 10 kills? Or are you left with only 3?
By Mile 4, my speedy first leg and the rolling hills of the second started catching up to me. I knew I had less than a mile left to run, but that one mile felt so long. I crested the top of yet another hill and looked down, only to see a string of red blinking lights stretching out before me. Even though it seemed like all I had done during the leg was get passed, I was actually catching teams. Seeing those red lights was all the motivation I needed. I took off in pursuit of the runners, picking them off one by one right up until the finish line.
Final stats: 4.93 miles in 33:44 (6:51/mile)
On One Hour of Sleep
By the time the rest of our van finished their legs, I was more than ready for some sleep. We made our way to the transition point in search of some much needed rest. Because it was freezing outside and I didn’t have a sleeping bag, I stretched out in the front seat of the van, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.
Turns out when you’re sharing a sleeping space with Becky and Sean, sleep might be in short supply.
I’m not sure how long we all stayed up talking, or how early we woke up again, but I’m pretty sure it all amounted to about an hour of sleep. Which, turns out, is actually pretty good for your creativity. In the early morning hours, Becky, Sean, and I came up with a bunch of stellar ideas for team names and taglines for next year’s team. And I’m sure they will all sound just as good when we aren’t sleep-deprived and stir-crazy.
That morning had dawned crisp and cool – another perfect day to run. But since my hardest leg was yet to come, I spent the entire morning trying not to think about what lie ahead.
Around 9 or so that morning, Sam came sprinting around the corner, and Van 1 was off for one final time.
Right from the start, it was clear that everyone was struggling a little bit. Kimmy looked strong, but was feeling sick.
And EC had horrible knee problems that forced him to slow down to a walk – and freaked me out so badly that I was ready to pull him off the course.
Meanwhile, the sun was getting warmer and I was getting increasingly more nervous. How were my legs going to hold up for 8.5 more hard miles?
My last leg was not only my longest, but it was also (by far) my hardest with a steep mile long climb at the very end. But EC ran this leg last year – and if he could do it, I could too. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
EC’s run also finished at the top of a long hill. As I waited at the top, I sucked down a Gu (the first time I’ve used one on a relay), hoping my stomach would be able to keep it down and the sugar would propel me over 8 miles of rolling hills.
Photo courtesy of Steve
Finally, I saw EC in the distance, running strong up the hill despite the obvious shooting pain in his knee. We made our final hand off (clearly I was proud of him for hanging in there) and off I went for my final relay leg of 2011.
Photo courtesy of Steve
I’d like to tell you that I was filled with excitement and gratefulness to be running on that beautiful New Hampshire morning. That the thought of this not only being my last leg of Reach the Beach, but my last leg of the 2011 relay season kept me positive and made me enjoy every last minute. But unfortunately that was not the case. I was tired, and right from the start the leg seemed even hillier than I had expected.
But even though I was tired, I started out strong once again. I kept telling myself to pull back on the pace but I couldn’t. I realize this probably doesn’t make much sense, but the signals my logical brain was sending to my illogical legs were just not getting through. Despite my brain’s protests, my heavy legs had a mind of their own. The first 3 miles were not only surprisingly consistent, but they were also under 7:00 minutes. Instead of trying to argue, I just tried to turn my brain off and let my legs do their thing.
Between miles 3 and 4, however, I hit a big hill that finally forced my legs to slow down. I had given it my best effort, but I just couldn’t hold a sub-7 minute mile anymore. Instead I tried to push as hard as I could, and hang as close to a 7:00 minute pace as my legs could move.
Around mile 4, I saw my team for a much needed water break. I think this face pretty accurately captures how I was feeling at the moment, despite all their awesome cheering.
Why I thought it was super important to fix my hair at this moment, I do not know.
By this point, my stomach had started cramping so badly that all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball until the pain went away. I’ve dealt with nausea on many relays in the past, but these stabbing pains were an entirely new ballgame. I sucked down a little bit of water and asked my team if they could please stop again for me in a couple of miles.
Fortunately, seeing my team, getting a little water, and knowing that I’d see them again in just 2 more miles gave me a bit of a mental boost. At this point, runners were stretched out in a steady line in front of me. So instead of focusing on the miles I still had to run, I focused solely on reeling in the runner directly in front of me. Once I had caught up to him or her I’d look ahead to my next target. When you have 8.5 miles to run, slowly picking off the runners in front of you is a great way to stay motivated. I’m sure the people behind me were doing the same.
By the time I saw the team again around mile 6, the cramp had subsided a bit and my spirits had lifted. I took down a little more water, and prepared myself for the hill ahead. I told myself that all I had to do was make it to that hill. And then whatever happened, happened.
When I came around the corner at Mile 7 and saw that hill, I knew I was in for it. It seemed to stretch endlessly up in front of me, curving around corners into infinity. I ducked my head down, picked my knees up and dug deep. My only thoughts were to a.) not walk and b.) not let anyone who I had passed before pass me on the hill, especially the guy who sarcastically told me “good luck on that hill at mile 7″ when I passed him, in a way that implied I was running stupid and would get what’s coming to me soon.
I felt like I was crawling, but I never slowed to a walk. I focused on taking one step at a time to get to the top. And finally, it ended – with a nice long flat stretch to the finish.
Almost done! The smile has returned to my face.
It felt so good to be done!
Final Stats: 8.57 miles in 1:00:48 (7:06/mile)
I might have been done, but half of our van still had legs to run. It was clear that everyone was tired. But Becky, Steve, and Sean all dominated their final legs.
You may not be able to tell from this picture, but Steve was still flying. I think he ran his 3 legs faster than any other person I’ve ever had the pleasure of running a relay with.
Sean even performed a little dance for us as we drove by. Someone has caught the relay fever…
Finally it was time to hand off to Van 2 for the last time. We handed off the bracelet with cries of “see you at the beach!!” and we pointed our tired van toward the nearest restaurant for some grub.
The Finish
As the sun was starting to set, Team Buttermore started arriving at the finish area. Relay organizers had moved the finish line onto the beach this year, and besides the fact that it forced Runner #12 to sprint the final 3/4 of a mile through sand, it made for a beautiful finish.
We took a few necessary photos…
And then joined up with Van 2 for the final sprint to the end.
28 hours later, Team Buttermore was done!
Final Team stats: 28:12:28 (8:49/mile)
And the final question – did we ever find Buttermore??
Maybe. Through our awesome powers of online stalking, we were surprised to discover that he was running the relay this year with another team. We also found out that he was running in the second van, but we weren’t sure what team he was with. However, throughout the relay we had a couple of interesting encounters with other teams that made us think they were running with him…or at least knew who he was. We weren’t exactly shy about telling people the meaning behind our name. But if he did find us, he didn’t want to say hello…leaving the true identity of Buttermore a mystery to this day.
New Hampshire RTB Relay 2011: The Crazy before the Calm
| September 27, 2011 | Posted by Lauren under Running |
Relay season has officially ended.
Okay, so it technically ended a week ago when Team Buttermore crossed the finish line of the 13th Reach the Beach NH relay. But since I haven’t been able to blog about it until now, today is the day that gets to official designation.
You may be wondering why I waited so long to tell you about my experience running the 2011 RTB relay. After all, I’ve been known to talk about the magic that is the 200-mile relay to every person who will listen. But I’m going to be all mysterious and tell you that I haven’t been able to blog for reasons best left off the blog. It may be over a week later, but the story does still need telling. And I hope I don’t lose any of the excitement in my telling of it.
For the past few years, the New Hampshire Reach the Beach Relay has been how I’ve ended my summer. It’s usually held the very last weekend of summer, and it’s traditionally so cold while we’re up in those NH mountains that it’s easy to believe fall has arrived. I can’t think of a better way to close out a season than to run my favorite type of race. And this year was even better. This year, I was blessed with the opportunity to run four relays in one summer – to have an actual “relay season.” As I ran across that RTB finish line with my teammates, I couldn’t help but think about how much joy I’ve gotten out of these races over the past few months.
But – we didn’t exactly get to this point smoothly. Whether it’s losing runners on the course, showing up at transitions before they’re even opened, or getting stuck in awful traffic, no relay is without its share of craziness. Of all the relays I’ve ever done, however, the 2011 RTB took the cake! Except this time, most things went wrong before we even got up to New Hampshire for the start.
In hindsight, I think it must have been because of our name. We should have known when we chose it we would be cursed. But it seemed like such a good idea at the time…
Remember last year when we got to the start at Cannon Mountain and realized that one of our runners just wasn’t going to show? The mysterious Buttermore, who left us with extra legs to run and became the brunt of all jokes for the entire weekend.
The question of the weekend – from the 2010 New Hampshire Reach the Beach relay.
Well, since we never did find him, we figured 2011 would be a good time to take up our search once again. And so we christened our motley crew Team Buttermore in his honor.
And that, my friends, is where I think all the troubles started. Buttermore was back to get us again.
So before I tell you about what went right, let me share a little bit about what went wrong:
1.) Runners dropping like flies. You have to sign up for these relays pretty far in advance, so we had expected some amount of drop out as the race got closer. People get injured, or sick, or just too busy, but it’s usually nothing a little shuffling around can’t solve. This year, we had people dropping out up until the week before the race. Do you know how hard it can be to not only find someone crazy enough to agree to take a day off of work just so that they stay awake for over 24 hours and run through hilly New Hampshire, but to find that person at the absolute last minute? Luckily, our team was finally able to rope in a couple of guys who fit the bill – one who had never run a race in his life. But more about that later.
2.) Hurricane Irene. You know a storm did major damage when weeks after it hits, race organizers still aren’t sure if we’ll be able to run across a washed out section of road. RTB officials finally made the call the week of the race – we were switching to Plan B. A plan which meant that my first leg went from just under 9 miles to 3.3, and my total mileage dropped from 22 to 17. I know you all won’t be surprised when I tell you I was bummed about those 5 missing miles. In the end, EC was nice enough to switch with me, taking on my first leg and giving me his 19 miles.
3.) Non-existent van reservations. Reach the Beach NH is the biggest relay in all of New England. No, I don’t have any facts to back that up but it has to be true. The thing sells out 6 months in advance, and every van rental place across New England has rented its vans by February. So when Adventure Vehicle Rental called a few weeks before the relay to tell us there had been a mistake, we knew we were in trouble. Apparently the reservation that they had given Becky over a month ago didn’t actually exist. There were no vans. And the kicker to this entire thing? They had actually realized their mistake the day after they took Becky‘s credit card information. Yet it has just “slipped their mind” to call us. An honest mistake, right? Not exactly. Because of this, we were left scrambling. There wasn’t a van to be found within a 50 mile radius! In the end, we decided to rent two suburbans and hope that it would be enough space. (And for the record, I will never rent from Adventure Vehicle Rental again. Not only did they completely screw up, but they never actually offered to do anything to fix the problem. Their attitude was just: “Oh well, that’s too bad. Have a nice life.” Customer service at its finest.)
4.) Missing shirts. Late in the game, the team decided to order t-shirts for the relay. I designed shirts in Spreadshirt, put the order in and waited. And waited….and waited. In hindsight, I probably should have selected a rushed shipping option, just to be safe. But I’ve ordered from Spreadshirt in the past, and things have always been delivered really quickly. I had plenty of time according to their estimated shipping window, and I figured everything would be fine. But as the days passed and the shirts weren’t looking like they had even been shipped, I got increasingly nervous. The week of the race, I was told that sometimes production does take longer than promised and that there was nothing I could do at this point except refuse delivery. All my finger crossing and hoping that the package would magically show up in time wasn’t enough – the shirts arrived while we were racing through New Hampshire. Not much good they did me then.
5.) Durangos. And the craziness didn’t end there. When Becky went to pick up the vans on Thursday night before the race, instead of two suburbans, she found one durango and one suburban waiting for her. Apparently those two cars are in the same class, so companies rent them out interchangeably. And even though she had called multiple times to confirm the fact that she had Suburbans waiting for her, the company didn’t see the difference between what she asked for, and what they gave her. I’m not going to lie to you here – a Durango is small. Especially when you’re trying to pack 6 people and all their gear and food into it for an entire weekend. There may have been quite a few tears of frustration shed between Thursday night and Friday morning, thinking about how the heck we were going to make this thing work. Finally, after many frantic phone calls to teammates and rental places, we were able to find a minivan at the Enterprise at Logan Airport. We just had to drive to Boston through morning rush hour traffic to get it.
Finally, over an hour after we were supposed to have arrived, Becky, Sean, EC and I met up with our team in NH driving one suburban and one minivan. We were a motley crew, but we were ready. We booked it up to Cannon Mountain and picked up our bibs, went through the safety checks and lined up on the starting line with only minutes to spare. The race hadn’t even started and our adrenaline was already through the roof!
With all that had gone wrong all ready, we could only hope that we’d be in for smooth sailing once that gun went off.
Next up: The relay is run! And a possible encounter with Buttermore himself…
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