Two weeks ago I put in a 12 mile long run. I didn’t think much of it at the time but I later realized that was the longest I’d run since the Inside-Out Classic Half back in May. Oh how the mighty have fallen. It’s easy to let life get in the way of training, and that’s part of it. I guess I lost my spark a bit as well given everything that happened recently. But, I had a race to do and I had run enough to do it. A quick preview of the course at packet pickup revealed what is, to me, a brutally hilly slog. Bear in mind, anything over a mole hill may as well be Mount Everest to me, though with my office’s recent move that will be rectified somewhat as my training runs will be hillier than they were. So I had already pretty much given up on a PR, relegating myself to accept any result as long as I finished. I knew that the amount of training I’d done wasn’t up to snuff, so having any expectations was hopelessly optimistic.

Pre-race

I woke at 5:00am, got dressed and ate and drank. It was a pretty chilly start, but really the weather couldn’t have been better. I arrived in plenty of time to negotiate the absolutely ridiculous traffic for parking, then sat in the car keeping warm and reading my book for about 20 minutes until about 30 minutes prior to race time. I made my way to the starting line and nature began its perfectly-timed siren song so I found the porta-potties and got in line. Long lines. I heard the announcer call the 10 minute warning. Then the 5 minute warning. 3 minutes, and I’m still 3 people back. Finally I get in and do my business, hop out and head to the end of the field just in time to hear the gun sound. Oh well, at least I’ll have plenty of folks to pass.

The first half

Given my realizations of the previous day and the fact that I literally had the entire field in front of me I started conservatively. The first mile marker hit at 9:31. I dodged and weaved around people constantly which was probably good as it kept my mind off the fact that the first mile is all incline. After that it rolls with an overall steady downhill trend to the 4 mile mark. I maintained my conservative pace, but didn’t glide downhill or walk it all on the hills. Frankly, I attacked the hills reasonably hard and over the following 3 miles wind up with a 8:49 pace. Slower than I’d ideally liked to have run that day, but well within my 2 hour “I won’t be disappointed” pace.

At 4 1/4 is where, upon review, the real gut check of the race starts. From there to the turnaround at 8 miles is a pretty steady climb. It feels it. Every time you round a bend there’s a bit longer to climb, with very few downhill or flat breaks in between. I still felt remarkably good and stayed within myself. My hydration plan was spot on, delivering me to the starting line with a comfy bladder and I walked through every aid station and grabbed two cups, either 50/50 water and HEED or a double fist of HEED. Those 15 second breaks of walking, breathing, and drinking were welcome but I never felt like it was a struggle to get the legs going again. That 4 mile climb was the slowest part for me, and I clocked in at the 10K mark in 56:15 or a 9:05 pace. Still under 2 hours and very conservative. I finished up the uphill slog at the turnaround at the 8 1/4 mile mark in 1:14:55 or a 9:06 pace. Yes, the hills took its toll.

At the half-marathon turnaround is where we parted ways with the marathoners. As I turned I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled a “good luck” to them. At that point in the race I was ecstatic that I wasn’t doing the full marathon this time. Face it, I hadn’t done the required training. The wheels would have fallen off something fierce; the extra 13.1 the marathoners have to do is even hillier than the half. No thanks.

The last half

I admit, I didn’t know what the final 5 miles were like. My tour of the course took me to the turnaround and then I figured I’d tortured my girls enough dragging them across town. I had no clue what the future held except I was pretty sure I had to go back down a lot of the incline I’d just traversed and the hill I started out on in the first mile would be a sweet decline into the finish. So I started ramping it up a bit, visions of the benefits of negative splits dancing in my head. The 9th mile came and went in 8:50. The 10th in 8:47. At that point my brain pointed out that a) I had only a 5k left and b) I felt quite fine. The 11th mile showed up in 8:29. The 12th in 8:09. I skipped the final water stop at mile 12 because I was feeling good and didn’t want to slow down.

The 13th mile introduced a rude shock in the form of a sweeping, 6/10 of a mile incline. I powered up it. I’d have loved to have taken a break. But I didn’t. My final 1.1 miles were at an average 7:51 pace, even including that damned final hill. I came sailing past the 13 mile mark where I saw Cat and Julia waving at me at a blistering 6:41 pace. I high-fived Julia and kept pushing to the finish.

My gun time was a fairly disappointing 1:58:16, a full minute slower than my PR. But I started at the back of the field. My Garmin time showed 1:55:51 and my official clock time was 1:55:49 for a new PR!

Afterthoughts

I can’t say I’m not pleased. Of course, having low expectations makes them easier to meet. I never would have imagined PRing on that course after previewing it, but I did. I showed a bit more perseverance than is typical for me recently which is a nice change. Perhaps it’s the start of something better.

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