Race Autopsy

Yes, time to do it again–because it won’t be long before I’m officially in training mode again.

What went well in this training cycle?
Hmmm . . . Let me check my log, because from my perspective right now, the answer is Not much. I’ve considered myself in training since mid-July, a long season of training for a half marathon. But the first four weeks of that I still considered myself in base-building mode, getting my mileage back closer to 40 mpw before starting to hammer the tougher workouts and longer long runs. Overall, the mileage was decent, averaging about 36 over the course of the toughest training weeks. I also did well at logging the long runs. The goal was to keep my base at 10 to 14 miles over the summer, and I did that, running at least one 14-miler in each of the sweltering months of June, July, and August. Come September, I started pushing the distance, four long runs past 16 miles. The other thing I did this summer that I hadn’t done before was race shorter distances–even a 10k as late as September.

How was this training different from training for my last half?
It surprises me to say this, but I put in more miles this time around, and at a faster average pace. My average training pace last year was 9:42; this year it was 9:27. Last year, between July 1 and race day, I ran 609 miles; this year, from July to race day, I ran 697. I did try to run six days a week this year, which I hadn’t done before, but mostly so that I could run shorter mileage the rest of the days as my mornings filled up with commitments that made it difficult for me to put in the 9-milers I used to. My weekly mileage didn’t seem to be much superior to last year’s, though I know I hit three high-mileage weeks (47, 48, 49 miles) instead of last year, when I just had one week at 48 miles.

What will I do again?
The over-distance runs, for me, are invaluable. Last year I’d pushed to 16 miles. This year I did two more to 18, and though I did them slow, the endurance of just knowing I’d gone that far was fantastic. Knowing as I stepped to the line, not sure of my speed but absolutely certain that 13 miles was a distance I could run, literally, any given Sunday, was priceless.

I’d probably run this race again, too. Though there are no pacers or separate corrals, I love the course. I love the organization, and the time of year is just right for me.

What did I do wrong?

• Again, there were so many things I screwed up! First of all, I shirked on the tempo runs at race pace, and really, that’s just a rookie mistake. I think it was mostly because there were so many intervals I wanted to try out, and I kept substituting my regularly-scheduled tempo runs with new interval workouts. But so help me if I don’t remember this: there is no substitute for practicing your race pace! I think I was also avoiding practicing my race pace because it felt so tough, and I kept thinking it was a function of the heat and I’d feel so comfortable when winter came. Well, guess what? Winter never came, at least not before race day. I should have been practicing my pace, no matter how brutally difficult it was.
• This is kind of a derivation of the last item, but I didn’t stick to the schedule very well. Part of that was wisdom–if I am feeling particularly tired, I do need to take a day off or at least run easy–but part of it was just inattention. I should have nailed my workouts. Instead, it took me all of August to get into a rhythm, figuring out which weekdays worked for speed workouts, how to do my long run and still make it to the Lamb’s soccer games, etc. It was a learning year, I suppose.
• Because of the scheduling snafus, I didn’t do very well at recovery, especially after the long runs. No ice baths after the 18s made me cranky and tired and achy. Gotta hit the ice after the 20s, for sure.
• I carried only the number of gels I thought I would need on the course, no more. I had one at the start, one at mile 5, and one at mile 10. But you know, once on the course, I kind of wished I’d had the option of having another. Just because. And then I realized, what if one of the gels had “malfunctioned,” as mine have in the past, where the top just doesn’t come off? I’d have been in deep trouble, because in this race, I absolutely needed my gels.
• Visiting the porta-potties so close to gun time made for a nerve-racking start.

What new discoveries did I make about gear/tools/tricks?

• That running with Little G once a week is fantastic! It gives us both something to look forward to. We have our own training schedules, so we do our speed workouts, but try to get together for long runs when we can too. And that being a good running partner means being flexible–letting the other person go if you’re feeling sluggish; putting on extra miles if you’re doing more miles than she is.
• That gear check can be done well. At this race, we turned in our bags into two school buses; at the finish, bags were organized by number onto different rows, which could then be accessed by appropriately-labeled windows. Fantastic!
• That a post-race massage feels fantastic! Yes, it was my first.
• That I can push through pain and discomfort on race day that I thought unendurable on training day. I must have run two-thirds of the race with a sharp pain in my upper thigh / butt. I did not want to think the word “piriformis” out loud to myself. I just kept running. Boy, was I in pain when the race was over!*
• I seem to be developing a pattern where a migraine rears its ugly head every time I run hard or long without my morning coffee. This would mean every Saturday when there’s a long run and I forget to get coffee on my way to meet my family somewhere or, exactly like this week, after a race. I am beginning to consider the possibility of getting up even earlier on Saturdays to experiment with downing some coffee before setting out. I’m just at a loss for what else to do.
• Honestly, I just don’t think I was as hungry for this one as I was last year. And that’s okay. As Little G said, maybe my focus this year has been on the marathon–maybe that’s why I’ve been running the weirdo intervals and the longer long runs, even though I haven’t thought it “out loud,” this is where my training is pulling me.
• Hey, it’s okay to train slow! I need to worry a lot less about my training pace on easy days and develop confidence through my speed workouts and endurance development on long-run days. Nobody writes down in small print “yeah, but her average training pace was only 10:17″. The only thing that matters on race day is how fast you run from the gun to the tape. That is all.
• That traveling with Little G for this race was seamless and comfy, like old jammies. We could definitely do a destination marathon together. And racing together works for us, too–no expectations other than seeing each other at the end.

What’s next?

Again, hopefully a PR in the 5k. This is a tough one, because my current personal best is a really hard time: 23:28, or a 7:34 pace. But I’d love to push and make that even faster. As for a 10k PR, I’m just not sure how that’s going to fit into our travel schedule–as of earlier this week, my family and I are traveling overseas for the Christmas holidays, which will impact both training and racing . . . in fact, I’m thinking of picking out a new 26.2.

I need to work on my form before the marathon, concentrating on strengthening my abs and back to provide a strong framework for miles 22 and onward.

*The fact that the race ended at a beach party was, at first, horrible for me. Walking on sand was excruciatingly painful, though, as Little G said, probably actually good for my piriformis and other aching muscles. But really, every time we wandered away from the sidewalk and back on the sand, I would wince just walking. Surprisingly, though I had a little bit of DOMS (maybe even worse than after the marathon), the piriformis itself no longer hurts at all. My first post-race run was very slow–like G said, we were both “trotting”–run at an average 10-minute pace, but doable. I took another rest day today, but intend to go out again for a few slow, easy miles.

In Disbelief

2009 13.1 Fort Lauderdale
Bib Number:446
Overall Placement: 330 / 2030 (16.3%)
Age Group Placement: 18 / 218 (8.3%)
Gender Placement: 63 / 1048 (6%)
Chip Time: 1:48:56

Really, that’s how I feel about my finish at this race. I didn’t feel prepared for it. I felt like my training had been lackluster–I’ll talk more about how and why in my race autopsy in the next couple of days–and instead of peaking in the last couple of weeks I felt overtired, overstressed, overtrained, and unprepared. My runs felt stale; my legs felt tired. In the last week before my race I began to get more and more nervous as the race approached and I knew my target pace was unendurable for even 4 miles in cool temperatures. I surrendered my dream of a personal best and started praying for a decent race–I just wanted to avoid the humiliation of coming in over two hours and logging a personal worst at the distance.

I’d trained at least once a week with Little G, whose own personal record at the distance was 1:54. Our goal was the same: 1:50 or thereabouts. But as we approached race day, clouds of doubt filled both our minds. As we drove down to Fort Lauderdale, we agreed to run this race like all other races we’ve run together. We’d stand at the start together and run our own race from there, agreeing to find each other at the end. Though we mostly run the same pace, we didn’t want the responsibility of keeping the other one’s pace. It’s very freeing to run a race with that understanding.

We’d found a hotel with a full kitchen, so Little G had made us some baked ziti, bread, and salad. It was fabulous not to have to hunt down a decent dinner once we’d arrived in the city. We just heated up that pasta, sat down, and ate. When dinner was down we both did a little of our Bible study and then turned in.

We woke early for the race and had our bananas, then walked two blocks or so to the start. It was in the mid-60s; Little G had found a couple of fleeces for us to wear and discard at the start. We went to the porta-potties and turned in our gear bags, then sat down for a few minutes. With about thirty minutes til the gun, we decided to go potty again. The lines were ridiculously long, but the bank of porta-potties was huge and we figured the lines would move quickly. When we were going back to the one mass corral, G asked me what time it was and I casually replied it was 6:10. “6:10?” she asked–gun time was 6:13. We ran back to the corrals and joined a mass of people trying to find a way in or over. We found an entrance near the nine-minute milers and got to work trying to down our Hammer gels, get a sip of water, and discard our fleeces. We had just enough time to pray and get ready–thank goodness we’d adjusted the display on our Garmins and silenced the distance alarm earlier. The gun went off and we were racing.

I left Little G almost immediately, trying to get into my rhythm without paying too much attention to my pace according to Garmie, though I thought maybe I was going too fast–mile 1 came in at 8:35. I was trying to pace off people that looked like they were running a smart race–not surging or breathing hard, but able to talk, maintaining an even, easy rhythm. Mile 2, still in the city, came in at a better 8:45.

At mile 3 in this race you go through a tunnel, and I always love that. You go downhill first, and doing that affords you a view of the sea of people going uphill in front of you, a mass of runners moving up and down in a wave of running steps, everyone moving together yet separately. A steel drum band plays here, their notes echoing off the tile of the tunnel, and it gives me a surge of energy even as I swear to run this part of the race with my head, ignoring the people who surge past me on the downhill and think, see ya on the uphilll, sucker. I trusted my bridge training for the work on the way up; as soon as I hit the bottom curve I tucked my head under and started working–attack the hill–and looked down to make sure I wasn’t working too hard. Well, the tunnel tricked me and I lost my signal. I had no idea what my pace was. But I felt strong, and I went with it, picking people off as they slowed to the uphill. Joke was on me; as I came out of the tunnel and into the curve at Broward Boulevard, my legs felt absolutely done. No wonder–I’d run mile 3 at an exhausting 7:48 pace, my fastest of the race. Inexcusable, even with a dead GPS.

Revived, Garmie resumed his job of pacing me as we headed onto Las Olas, past beautiful yachts that did a lousy job of distracting me from my aching legs. But race day isn’t training day, and I kept pushing for an 8:20 mile 4. Little G came up behind me just as we approached the bridge toward A1A, and I was thankful to hear her voice and see her Brooks skirt. We hit the beachfront road together, and started Indian-filing our way through the crowd, threading the needle for each other as we found a spot to hit our pace without having to jostle for position. We found a place where we thought we could hang out and cruise at our pace for the northbound miles. We thought the turnaround was at mile 7½, so we figured we had a couple miles to go. Mile 5 came in at 8:12. I’d intended to take my gel at mile 6, like I did last year, but I knew my body needed the push earlier, so both G and I downed our Hammer gels earlier, at the mile 5 water station, and continued the push north. Happy middle- and high-school cheerleading squads and bands were out cheering for us and I was thankful for every scrap of encouragement.

Mile 6 came in at 8:30, mile 7 at 8:18, and I started looking for the turnaround that seemed to never come. By mile 8 it seemed to take forever for me to recover from my walks at water stops–I had started to run not next to Little G, but just behind her, just pacing off her by watching her pink Brooks skirt and refusing to lose her. Mile 8 came in at 8:24 and finally, a half-mile later, there it was, the turnaround. This was an emotional push–I knew I was on the home straightaway and all I had to do was bear down and push for home. But it was also a reality check: my time stood at 1:07 and I still had a long 5 miles to go. I could get my PR, but not without the hardest of work. And yet I knew it was too early to bear down. Mile 9 came in at 8:14.

At this point, it became a mile-by-mile race. There was sand on some portions of the course, and on A1A it was windy, requiring us to put up our arms, put our heads down, and run smart. My sunglasses were on, and I was trying to focus on nothing but my running. I was trying to do math as I ran–always a tough proposition for me–so I’d have no regrets later. Mile 10 came in at 8:24–slower than I needed it to be–and now the clock stood at 1:24. So this was it: I figured could get my PR if I didn’t clock anything above an 8-minute mile for the rest of the race*.

Without telling Little G, I consciously picked up my pace and left her. It was a decision made instantly, but not necessarily out loud. I just had to go. I was trying to keep my pace above 8:00 by Garmin-hawking, but also trying to pass people, knowing that in these later miles people are slowing down and that it’s deceptive to pace off of them. I downed my last gel at mile 10; at mile 12 I threw water over my head. I could feel my piriformis staring to ache; my right toes felt about to break off–I kept pushing. I had no idea where Little G was but I thought she was still behind me. I remembered people I had lost earlier in the race, unable to keep up with them, and pushed myself to reel them in, to push past them, to keep them from catching me.

At each mile marker, I checked my time–I only had twenty seconds off the clock versus my chip time, and I knew it was going to be really close. With a quarter mile to go I tried to dial it in and realized my right calf was about to seize. I was afraid I’d lose it completely within sight of the finish line and had to pull back just a little–but kept running as hard as my leg would let me. I ran under the clock reading 1:49–yes, a personal best–and could barely bend over to receive my finisher’s medal without upchucking on the sweet, smiling volunteer who said, “Well done, Karina! What a good run!”

Little G finished about a minute behind me. We missed each other in the chute completely but caught up at our pre-arranged meeting spot. We had post-race massages, found our gear bags and changed into dry shirts and flip-flops, and ate pancakes. Following that, we went to check our official finish times, but lost our heads completely when we found G had placed in her age group. Therefore, it wasn’t until I was home several hours later that I found out that my chip time was one minute, forty seconds off my previous personal best at the distance, recorded exactly one year earlier at this same race.

Whew! I have lots more to say about this race and my training leading up to it, but will leave that for another day. For today, my gratitude, for on this race day my God must have been smiling on me. Everything went right, and I’m happy with my new personal best. On to the next challenge: 26.2.

*I did not, in fact, manage to run those last three miles at sub-8 pace. My last splits: 8:25, 7:57, 8:23.

Weak Summary

No, that’s not a typo from the English teacher. It really was weak.

Did my 9 miles of intervals on Monday and was really tired for my 6 on Tuesday. Didn’t run on Wednesday because I was still feeling so tired–and having a sick kid at home didn’t help, either. On Thursday I decided to try to make up the missed miles from Wednesday, but the weather was uncooperative in the early-morning hours and I didn’t get out until close to 10. Though it was windy, the heat was palpable and the 10 miles felt interminably long. On Friday I ran 5 with Little G, thankful for every step of her company.

That left me with a long run Saturday–I had 14 miles on the schedule. But I knew, even running those 5 on Friday, that my legs were way too tired for someone who was 8 days out from her target half marathon–her one chance during the year to set a personal best.

So I slept in Saturday, and logged no miles this weekend. It was a calculated decision, based on all the information I have. Rest cannot hurt me now. More running might.

Last year, a mini-taper the week before the race seemed to work, so I’ll be doing it again this year. The plan: 4 miles today, off tomorrow, 4 miles Wednesday, 6 tempo miles Thursday, off Friday and Saturday, race Sunday. I picked up my race packet Saturday and started getting that great pre-race excitement. I’m hoping I get to the place where I can enjoy the race, even if it starts unraveling right from the beginning. I’m already thinking if I miss my PR I can fit in another try at the Marathon of the Palm Beaches in early December.

Weekly Summary:
Sunday: SRD
Monday: I 9 mi in 1:30–8x½mi @ 8:00, 7:45, 7:30, 7:15 and back; 1½ warm-up and cool-down.
Tuesday: E 6 in 56:36 (9:27)
Wednesday: URD
Thursday: E 10 in 1:35 (9:34)
Friday: E 5 in 47:12 (9:12)
Saturday: URD
MPW: 30

Progressive Half-Mile Repeats

That’s what I’m calling them, anyway.

Found the workout in Women’s Running magazine and today seemed a good day to try them. I figure I’m well-trained on endurance for the half but need to sharpen speed as much as I can, so I set out to run 8 x ½ repeats. The last time I did this workout I was running Yasso’s 800’s, where you aim to run 800 meters in the same minutes:seconds as you intend to run your marathon. I ran my 800’s at about 8:00 pace. Though doing a half-mile at my 10k pace wasn’t tough, doing it eight times proved quite a challenge.

Today, I decided to make it even tougher. I set out to run the first interval at 8:00, but then would progressively increase my speed by 15-second increments. Second repeat at 7:45, third at 7:30, fourth at 7:15. After this I’d do another interval at 7:15 (pretty much my mile PR), then back to 7:30, then 7:45, and finish up with another 8:00-pace repeat before my cooldown.

What a fabulous workout! First of all, the increasing speed works for me because I do get faster as I run, so though hitting 7:30 would have been hard right out of the gate, it was easier since I’d already run two intervals at somewhat slower paces. I was primed for what speed I’d need to hit–the speed I’d been cruising at before, only a little faster.

The other great advantage of this workout, for this particular runner, is that it forced me to slow down and pace myself on the way home. I normally burn my last repeats as my fastest, but this time I really had to learn and pay attention to how my body felt running that 7:30, that 7:45, that 8:00-minute mile.

In the end, my paces for the intervals were almost dead-on:
1–goal 8:00–actual 8:00
2–goal 7:45–actual 7:45
3–goal 7:30–actual 7:30
4–goal 7:15–actual 7:16
5–goal 7:15–actual 7:10 (oops)
6–goal 7:30–actual 7:36 (have a few seconds back)
7–goal 7:45–actual 7:45
8–goal 8:00–actual 7:59

I recovered for a quarter-mile after each interval. I also discovered that longer warm-ups and cool-downs seem to be better for me, so I’ve lengthened my standard pre- and post-speedwork routine to a mile and a half.

Tomorrow, hoping for an easy 6 with Little G. After the tough 9 today, I could use an easy run.

Oh, I forgot to mention this–with the 18-miler on Halloween morning, I closed out October with 197 miles. Last year, I did not close in on 200 miles in one month until January, pre-marathon month, when I ran 207.

How did I manage to run more miles when I’ve felt busier and crazier than ever? In my life, it’s reflective of God’s promises and goodness to me that He’s stretching my time to give me time with family, time with Him, time in ministry, and–still!–time with my sport. Praise Him! He loves me well!

Two Weeks Out

Here we are, two weeks out from target race #1: the 13.1 Fort Lauderdale. This week, I booked the hotel Little G and I will be staying at the night before the race. It’s just two blocks from the start line. I also worked my little Hispanic bottom off this week–I’m willing to admit that, though I sit in my office chair exhausted and spent as the week draws to a close.

As you know if you’ve been keeping up, I ran long intervals (or “cruise intervals” as some call them) on Monday. On Tuesday I ran 6 miles. Instead of just running them easy I ran them progressively, starting at an easy 9:40 but picking the pace pretty quickly to a finishing 8:20. On Wednesday I ran an easy 6. On Thursday I went out for an easy 8 but ended up running the middle miles at tempo-ish pace, around 9:00. I took Friday as a rest day and then ran 18 today.

I was very slow today, probably a combination of the near 50-mile week, the quicker run just two days ago, and the fact that I only got about six hours of sleep yesterday and I’m a strict eight-hour girl. In spite of that, I’m thankful for the high-intensity week; after all, rule #5 states that the harder you work during training, the luckier you’ll get during races! I believe that, so I’m working as hard as I can, even in this unrelenting heat and humidity.

I’m prepared to work hard again next week, though I won’t put in another high-mileage long run until after the race.

Week in Review:
Sunday: URD
Monday: I9–4x 1½ mi @ 8:15; 1 mi each warm-up and cool-down (9:17 overall pace)
Tuesday: P7 in 1:03 (9:08 overall pace)
Wednesday: E 6 in 57:45 (9:38)
Thursday: T 8–6@9:00 (9:14 overall)
Friday: SRD
Saturday: L 18 in 2:53 (9:38 avg pace)
Miles per Week: 49

As I enter the home stretch before my target half, I can’t help but compare my training for the half last year to my training for this year’s race.

Last year, my highest mileage week came in September–not sure what that was about–and it was a 48-miler. This year I started at lower mileage, coming off an almost total training break, and was at about 25 miles per week when I started training. But I’ve had three weeks at 48 miles or near there. Last year, as I came to the start line of the 13.1, I’d run two 16-milers and one simulation half-marathon. This year I’ve run two 16s and two 18s, but no simulation races. Though I imagined that my average pace has been slower this year, the opposite is true–my average pace is actually faster this year than it was last year.

Nothing to it now but to race.

Long Intervals

Didn’t run Sunday again–Monkey woke up and had uncharacteristically wet the bed so we just pulled him into bed with us, and I didn’t want to chance him getting an even worse night’s sleep so I turned the alarm off and didn’t go out in the early morning.

Monday’s my new speedwork day; with Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays being my most wide-open days, Mondays are the days that makes the most sense for intervals, and if I have it in the tank I can run a good tempo run Thursday with enough time to recover for Saturday’s long run–at least in theory.

So I set out to run mile and a half intervals yesterday. The training schedule called for me to run them at 8:13 pace and I almost harrumphed out loud when I saw that–sadly, because at one time I thought I could run the entire 13.1 at that pace but that seems like a long time ago.

It’s warm again–did I mention that?

I warmed up for a mile and when Garmie started telling me it was time for the first rep I started to pick up speed. Getting up to 8:25 from my easy pace wasn’t hard, but that mile and a half seemed forever long. The beeps from Garmie telling me recovery was near couldn’t come fast enough.

The same was true for the second repeat–I concentrated on keeping my effort steady throughout the interval. The great part of long intervals is that, for me, in addition to being good speed practice, they allow me the opportunity to work on my pacing, to work at maintaining a steady speed. So my word for the day was cruise control–once I hit my pace (I settled on 8:30-8:25 pace as my desired goal), I just focused on holding it.

After that second repeat I was tired, but not feeling like I couldn’t finish. Got ready for the second repeat and noticed immediately that though my legs still felt tired, I didn’t feel like I was working quite as hard–looked down at Garmie and saw a pace under 8:25. Thought about slowing down but instead focused on cruise control, and indeed that third rep was not only fast but easy.

Same for rep four. One mile’s cool down for a great nine-mile run of long intervals. My paces: 8:25, 8:19, 8:11, 8:06. The great irony is that my average did work out to awfully close to that pace I’d harrumphed about.

Today, a 7-mile progression run–picking up my pace from the 9:40 of the “what, we’re running now?” first mile to an 8:20 “let’s bring it home!” final mile. Only catch is I tried chocolate milk as my recovery drink and then I couldn’t eat breakfast because I was too full. Duh!

I think for the next two weeks until race day (yikes!) I’m going to keep Sundays as a rest day. I ran like that last year and felt great; this year I’ve been running post-long run and have felt tired and depleted. Maybe it’s time to go back to what was working before. We’ll try it, at least, until after the half, then see how I feel for the ten weeks I’ll have left before the marathon.

The kids have a yucky-sounding cough. I hope they both get well soon because it throws my schedule off when I have to stay home with them and because I can’t afford to get sick now!

Well, and, of course, because they’re my children and I hate it when they’re sick. Obviously.

Low-Mileage Week

Didn’t burn the week in burning glory this time around.

I ran 18 last Saturday and was pretty sore afterward, so I stupidly abandoned the plan of an easy run the day after and didn’t run on Sunday.

We all heard what I did on Monday.

Meant to run with Little G on Tuesday but we’re still working out the finer points of meeting each other at the bridge–we ended up not running into each other until the last mile and a half of her run, which lifted my knees considerably on what was a painful day, which was great.

Ran 6 on Wednesday on my own, running fast to try to to get home before Bible Study.

Had plans to run 8 on Thursday with Little G. She wasn’t working and I had no real commitments, so we made plans to sleep in and not go out until 5:30. Well, I was up and working on my study when, at 5:25, it started to pour down rain. She pulled into my driveway, we made signs at each other to cancel the run, and she went home. I went back to the couch to keep studying. At 6, the rain had mostly stopped, so I pulled my visor down tight and went back out. I only had an hour at best until I had to get back home to get the Lamb out to school (thank goodness I’d made her lunch the day before), but at least I got in 6.

Took Friday off. Was still thinking of running the 5k today.

Then Little G called and suggested we run today and what can I say? A run with a friend won over a race.

We went out for a mid-length run, just 10, but with her, my runs are always at a good pace. The darkness slowed us down a tad at times, but I felt good about our pace and felt, in the end, that doing these faster-paced miles instead of the race was probably good tempo work for the race. At least I hope so–the 13.1 is now just three weeks out.

So, all told–

Sunday–big fat 0.
Monday–speedwork, 8 in 1:13; 8×800 m in 4:00, with 200 m recoveries, 1½ mi warmup and cooldown.
Tuesday–easy 6½ in 1:01, 9:29 avg
Wednesday–easy 6 in 59:21, 9:54 avg
Thursday–easy 6 in 57:26, 9:35 avg
Friday–scheduled work day
Saturday–mid-long 11 in 1:38, 8:59 avg
Weekly total–37.5

Happy with that. Next week, a tempo run scheduled and a long 18 on Saturday, the last true long run before the race. Hoping to lower the pace every 5k. Weather will have a lot to do with it, though–we’re expecting highs back in the 90s all next week. Gotta love the Sunshine State.

Really? I’m a Plodder?

Plodder is the word an article in the New York Times chose to refer to slower runners who chose to finish–not run–a marathon.

By JULIET MACUR

Published: October 22, 2009

Every weekend during this fall marathon season, long after most runners have completed the 26.2-mile course — and very likely after many have showered, changed and headed for a meal — a group of stragglers crosses the finish line.

The New York City Marathon finish line. The race officially ends after six and a half hours, but runners are scored through 8:40.

Many of those slower runners, claiming that late is better than never, receive a finisher’s medal just like every other participant. Having traversed the same route as the fleeter-footed runners — perhaps in twice the amount of time — they get to call themselves marathoners.

And it’s driving some hard-core runners crazy.

“It’s a joke to run a marathon by walking every other mile or by finishing in six, seven, eight hours,” said Adrienne Wald, 54, the women’s cross-country coach at the College of New Rochelle, who ran her first marathon in 1984. “It used to be that running a marathon was worth something — there used to be a pride saying that you ran a marathon, but not anymore. Now it’s, ‘How low is the bar?’ ”

Tens of thousands of runners are training for marathons this time of year. As the fields continue to grow — primarily by adding slower runners — so has the intensity of the debate over how quickly an able-bodied runner should finish the once-elite event that is now an activity for the masses.

Purists believe that running a marathon should be just that — running the entire course at a relatively fast clip. They point out that a six-hour marathoner is simply participating in the event, not racing in it. Slow runners have disrespected the distance, they say, and have ruined the marathon’s mystique.

Slower marathoners believe that covering the 26.2 miles is the crux of the accomplishment, no matter the pace. They say that marathons inspire people to get off their couches, if only to cross off an item on the Things to Do Before I Die list. And besides, slow runners are what drive the marathon business, they say.

John Bingham, a runner who is known as the Penguin, is often credited with starting the slow-running movement, in the 1990s. “I have had people say that I’ve ruined the sport of running, but what I’ve been trying to do is promote the activity of running to an entire generation of people,” he said. “What’s wrong with that?”

Bingham added: “The complainers are just a bunch of ornery, grumpy people who want the marathon all to themselves and don’t want the slower runners. But too bad. The sport is fueled and funded by people like me.”

Trends show that marathon finishers are getting slower and slower — and more prevalent — according to Running USA, a nonprofit organization that tracks trends in distance running. From 1980 to 2008, the number of marathon finishers in the United States increased to 425,000 from 143,000.

In 1980, the median finishing time for male runners in United States marathons was 3 hours 32 minutes 17 seconds, a pace of about eight minutes per mile. In 2008, the median finishing time was 4:16, a pace of 9:46. For women, that time in 1980 was 4:03:39. Last year, it was 4:43:32.

In a debate on the Web site slowtwitch.com, someone posting as Record10 Carbon wrote that more than half of the people at a marathon are just overweight and “trying to get a shirt and medal … looking to one day tell a story about the saga and the suffering of their 11 minute pace ‘race.’ ”

In response, someone wrote: “Being a participant isn’t bad. Yes, there should be a cutoff on some events. But, what that cutoff is can be a raging debate.”

Race directors often struggle to find the right cut-off time, when water stations are closed, roads open to vehicles and volunteers abandon the course. Some directors, however, avoid that problem.

Runners in the Honolulu Marathon have no limits. Race rules state, “All runners will be permitted to finish, regardless of their time.”

Last year, 44 percent of the field for that event finished in more than six hours — with some marathoners stopping for lunch along the course.

“For every race director, there’s a very fine line between putting on a community event and putting on a race,” said Chris Burch, race director for the Des Moines Marathon, which stays open for seven hours. Last year, it stayed open for eight hours, but Burch found that only 4 percent of the participants needed more than seven hours to finish. In the end, that extra hour was not worth it, he said, because of the costs of keeping the course open.

“It is a huge budget item because you have to pay municipal services, like police, fire or trash, and volunteers have to stay longer,” he said. “But it’s not a simple decision. Those back-of-the-pack runners are income for the event, too, and they’re just as important for everyone. There’s a feeling of ‘I paid as much money as the other people to enter, so I should be treated the same.’ ”

At the Marine Corps Marathon, runners must keep a pace of 14 minutes per mile or risk being booted from the event near the 20-mile mark. A bus looms there, waiting to pick up those who fail to cross the 14th Street Bridge before it reopens to traffic. Those who choose to continue on the open course do so at their own risk, taking to the sidewalks or dodging traffic.

At the Berlin Marathon, where the cut-off time is 6:15, the “slow police” are notorious for lurking at the back of the pack. “If runners aren’t able to finish in the time we put in our information book, we ask them to leave the course and find their way to their hotel, or get in the bus,” the race director Mark Milde said.

The New York City Marathon, scheduled for Nov. 1, will have a field of about 40,000. Last year, about 21 percent of the field finished in more than five hours. The race officially ends after 6:30, though runners are scored through 8:40, when the timing system is finally carted off, said the race director Mary Wittenberg.

Longtime marathoners like Julia Given, a 46-year-old marketing director from Charlottesville, Va., still find ways to differentiate the “serious runners” from those at the back of the pack.

“If you’re wearing a marathon T-shirt, that doesn’t mean much anymore,” Given said on the eve of this month’s Baltimore Marathon, where vendors were selling products that celebrate slower runners. One sticker said: “I’m slow. I know. Get over it.”

“I always ask those people, ‘What was your time?’ If it’s six hours or more, I say, ‘Oh great, that’s fine, but you didn’t really run it,’ ” said Givens, who finished the Baltimore race in 4:05:52. “The mystique of the marathon still exists. It’s the mystique of the fast marathon.”

Now, see, I take issue with a lot of what’s said in that article. I once read a blog post by a competitive runner who tried to make others understand her dislike for recreational runners’ attempt at the marathon with the use of an analogy. She said runners like herself, who’d been training for years and years, were like artists, like Picassos. Imagine, she said, that you’ve been honing your craft for years and are only now capable of turning out these amazing masterpieces. But now all of a sudden you turn around and everywhere you look there are people putting out copies of your work by filling out paint-by-number schematics. Wouldn’t it make you angry?

Well . . .

Forgive me, but I find that a simplistic analogy. Us “plodders” aren’t painting your race. We’re running our own. I don’t follow Ryan Hall’s training schedule–I’d kill myself. And even if I tried, I wouldn’t finish having expended his energy or soaked myself through with his sweat–it’s MY effort that gets me to the finish line, so please don’t cheapen my effort by comparing a physical, difficult exertion to something like copying someone else’s creative work. That’s unfair. Marathon running, or marathon run-walking, or marathon walking, for that matter, takes real effort, and I find it unfair of you to cheapen it.

Secondly, I find it strange that you think it takes away from your achievement that someone finished six hours behind you. Really? Doesn’t that actually make your accomplishment all the more impressive? What is the statistic now–1% of the American population finishes a marathon? I think that’s the number. And most of us–most of us!–are the plodders. That means that those of you who are fast, who will break three hours, are left in the purist minority of what–one-half, maybe one-quarter of one percent?

For cryin’ out loud, take pride in that!

Don’t waste your time or curdle your milk standing around the finish line watching as thousands of stragglers finish behind you! Go home and get in your ice bath. We have plenty of things to do and talk about as we struggle on in. Would you like to know a secret? We want to improve too. Though we’re not lightning fast, we do dream of being fast-er.

By the way, I fully understand race directors’ need for a time limit. But I think empirical evidence proves that most people have an endurance limitation too–they’ll finish by the six- or seven-hour cut off or log a DNF. The true die-hards who want to be out there longer than that are out on the ultra courses, but that’s a story for another day.

Whew! Sorry. Rant over.

But I’m reminded of running rule #2: All runners are equal; some are just faster than others.

Yasso’s 800s

I’ve read about these intervals in Runner’s World before, and decided to try them for the first time today. Of course I also wanted to get in a decent mileage, so I set myself up for a pretty tough workout.

The goal if Yasso’s 800s is to run 800 meters in the same minutes and seconds as the number of hours and minutes you hope to run your marathon.

I set out to run my 800s in 4 minutes flat, though I know a four-hour marathon is probably going to be a stretch. I set out for eight repeats with a mile and a half warm-up and cool-down so I could get in eight miles. Yes, I’m insane.

The workout itself wasn’t so tough–it basically worked out, for me, into half-mile repeats at 10k pace. But doing so many repeats just wore me out; in fact, I thought repeat 7 was my last one and when I realized I had another I almost cried. But conditions were in my favor: temps today, after our first cold front of the season finally came through, were much lower than last week–I ran today in a glorious 55-degree day, though it was windy in my homecoming repeats as my times showed.

I hit my paces pretty well. My times:

3:56.53, 3:56.34, 3:58.35, 3:54.09, 4:00.82, 4:04.83, 3:54.08, 3:50.23.

You can see repeats 5 and 6 were into the wind, and I made the conscious decision to run by effort and not by time. Would have done the same thing for 7 except I’d lost count by that point and really thought that was the last one–oh well.

Ran 18 miles on Saturday in almost three hours–fairly slow but literally everything that could go wrong did, including a pretty prodigious nosebleed at about mile 15. I also went over the bridge four times, which slowed down those miles. I’m glad I put the miles in, though I do wish I’d gotten an ice bath after–what with the nose bleed and trying to fix my fuel belt for the first six miles*, I had to rush to get to the Lamb’s soccer game and had to skip the ice.

Still stubbornly training for a February marathon, as you can see, and for a half PR.

There’s a 5k this weekend, too.

What, you thought I was gonna quit this running thing? Whose blog do you think this is?

*I got a new fuel belt from Nathan a few weeks ago to try to carry all my gels for the marathon. I like it a lot. It’s roomy and reflective and will be perfect for the Sunset to Sunrise Relay if we do end up running it. Unfortunately, it will not stay put! Both long runs I’ve tried it on, it takes me the first hour of the run to play with it–this time it literally drove me to tears because I had stopped so many times to fiddle with it that I was frustrated I couldn’t get into a rhythm. I’m not sure if it’s finally getting sweaty that does it or what. I plan to wear it on an easy run this week to see what’s up. If it’s sweat that does it I’ll try just wetting it pre-run.

Running in Last Place

The reality is that, for me, this year has been an adjustment. The kids are young, and maybe I’ve taken on too much. Some of my friends tell me I have. But I live my life with the understanding that when God asks me to do something I should do it, and I felt absolutely called to take on the ministries that I’m involved in this year, so I feel no qualms in being wrapped up in them–only absolutely stunned at the amount of time they’re requiring from me.

I am finding it difficult to budget my time well enough to do everything that is required of me, and still get to bed by a reasonable hour. Because of this, my early-morning runs aren’t always happening. This means my training has been lacking of late. I’m going to try to move some things around. For example, yesterday I ran after the Lamb’s soccer practice. I’d like this to be my new Tuesday routine since I have to get up so early those days, though I could only get in four miles before the sky darkened and I suppose I’ll get in even fewer miles once winter sets in even further. I did then have to run again this morning, and it was tough on tired legs, but I knew it was also especially good marathon training.

I’m planning to race the half on November 15 (yes, Little G and I moved our target race). I’m still gunning for sub-1:50, though whether it materializes or not will just have to be seen on race day.

Beyond that, I’m still training as if I’m running my second marathon in February. But if my training doesn’t hold up, I’ll scale back and run another half at the A1A instead. This much I know for sure: when I greet my Redeemer in Heaven, He will not be interested in whether I qualified for Boston, but He will be keenly interested in whether I helped establish and build up His Kingdom, and that must be my ever-present priority. So as I budget my time, I’m trying to do it with a Kingdom-mindset. First, home and family. Second, ministry. Running comes in last place.

Yes, I’ve neglected my blog writing and my blog reading, and for that I apologize. This time-budget stuff is something He is still teaching me . . .