Girl In Motion

Yesterday it came to my attention that my backup marathon, the Philadelphia Marathon, is filling up pretty quickly and I will have to decide before Steamtown if I should sign up or not.  I have no interest in doing the race this year, 6 weeks after my marathon debut, but it’s my Plan B in case Steamtown is a bust.  Here’s the question though…what exactly constitutes a bust?

Before my DNF of the Distance Run, I would have said it was not hitting my preferred goal time of 3:45, but I’ve since gained some perspective on it, so a 4:00 would be fine and fab for my first, if that’s what I end up with.  Over 4:00 however, I’d want to redeem myself in Philly.

I just wish Philly didn’t cost $125 because given a choice, I really don’t want to run a marathon 6 weeks after my first unless I have to.  I could go for the Half (only $100!) but I believe you can only upgrade to the Full as long as there’s room left.  I did the Half last year and I’m not dying to do it again and besides, I signed up for a sweet Half in the Spring, the Lehigh Valley Half, so I can wait till then for a new Half PR.

Decisions, decisions…

Now I’d like to address something I’ve brought up before and we’ve actually discussed, thanks to you, my fine blog commenting friends.  Yesterday I was advised by a forum friend that I should be conservative and instead of going for 3:45, should shoot for sub-4:00, simply because it’s my first marathon.

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you would know that this rankles me to the bone.  Why do people who have a difficult first marathon (or second or third or fourth) assume you will too?  As if we were all cut from the same cloth.  We’re not.

Lower expectations do not motivate me - that’s not what I consider fun.  I can appreciate that some folks enjoy entering races as training runs or like to race conservatively or to test the waters on a distance before going all out their second time, but that’s not me.  I race to race.  That’s how I get my jollies.

Nevertheless, as strong a person as I am in many ways, hearing these doubts about my first marathon leads me to doubt myself all over again.  Suddenly I’m poring over my logs, wondering if I was fooling myself the whole cycle (maybe I didn’t do the work I thought I had, maybe my mileage wasn’t up to snuff, did I miss some runs I don’t remember missing??) but no, it’s all there.  I’ve no reason to feel down about it, I just need to clear my head of all the lingering negative fuzz.

Back on March 18th, I wrote in a blog post, “…we got our tickets then went next door to the huge Asian market that recently opened where, at Lara’s advice, I bought some White Rabbits, yummy Asian candy that I can only hope are not laced with battery acid or antifreeze or whatever the Chinese are exporting in food these days.”

So how lovely to read on CNN Health yesterday, in an article about melamine tainted milk from China, the very last paragraph, “The FDA also recommends that U.S. consumers not eat White Rabbit Creamy Candy, which in China has been found to contain unacceptable levels of melamine. The candy’s maker, Guanshengyuan, has recalled its exports of White Rabbit Cream Candy.”

You know, this would be simply hilarious if it wasn’t for a small niggle in my blood test results from last week.  Seems my kidney function is a tad off and I have to go back for another test in a couple weeks.  I’m sure it’s not connected, probably just something left from the dehydration incident, but I did eat two or 3 bags of those White Rabbits since March, and melamine affects the kidneys, so it’s freaky-deaky, if nothing else.

Back to running…

Today was a  scheduled 8miles w/3×1600 @ 5K race pace w 2min. rest intervals.  Since I wanted to use the park markings instead of my Garmin, I went for 3xmile, my favorite (cough, cough) interval distance.  Honestly, I’m pretty good with shorter intervals, I can find the fun in it, but miles?  No fun to be had there, just looking for the end from about 1/4 mile in.  I can’t help it, I hate ‘em.

As you remember, I’ve been basing my intervals off a 3:40 marathon goal’s corresponding McMillan calculated 5K, so 7:15s.  Even though I’ve downgraded to a 3:45 marathon goal since my hell race, I figure I should keep the same workout goals since I’ve been doing them all along and hitting my paces well.

So was it any surprise that I berated myself when the first interval came out to 7:23?  Thank god the next one was right on target, 7:15, but oh my…the last one?  Horrible, terrible, must quit running forever with a shameful embarrassment of an interval, 7:29.  Average for the interval set: 7:22.

I wasn’t surprised the intervals were all over the place, this was the first time I used the 1/4 mile park markers instead of relying on Garmin feedback, and I’m sure I’ll get better the more I do it, but this was not the collection of 7:15s I was seeking.

The whole way home my confidence was shot, I was thinking how I’ve been deluding myself this whole time, I suck, blah blah, loser, blah, I’ll be lucky to crack 4:00, etc.  Then I realized two things:

1. A mile is longer than 1600m, so my 7:23, 7:25, 7:29 miles actually come out to 7:20, 7:12, 7:26 1600s, which averages 7:19.  Better!  Still…not quite what Pete Pfitzinger told me to do. But wait, what does our friend McMillan say?

2.  McMillan says that 1600s for a 3:40 marathon should be between 7:13 and 7:29.  Hey! Mine were 7:20, 7:12 and 7:26.  I CAN LIVE!!  No shameful runner death for me today.  I’m right where I need to be.  McMillan’s the man!

So life is back to normal after my death trudge home (could I be any more dramatic over a few lousy seconds?).  Now it’s time to ponder the fact that I ate candy containing the same substance as the cheap table top I’m typing on.  Neat.

This was a day of firsts:

1. First Did Not Finish
2. First time my body’s ever given out on me
3. First Ambulance Ride
4. First ER stay
5. First intravenous
6. First EKG

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Got to my corral easily, lots of room.  The Star Spangled Banner singer forgot the words which made all 15,000 of us crack up.  Then the race began.

Started off fine, much better racing this year than last, I’ve learned a lot about pacing and not freaking out, so it was steady as she goes from the top.  Started off with a couple 8:03s, the next two were 7:53, 7:54, then 8:01s, feeling pretty good about, too.  At mile 4, I needed a drink, so I got some water at the station, but only managed a sip.

Continuing on to West River Drive, I didn’t take my own advice to get on the sidewalk at the camber because I didn’t want to deal with it and also, I really wanted to run this course the way it’s certified, without any shortcuts or adjustments.  No problem, the camber didn’t even seem bad to me, when it has in the past.

The map showed the next water stop at the 10K mark, so I took my gel too early.  I really missed having a flask, because I had this full mouth of snot (the gel) and had to breathe a few times before I could get it down.  Then the water stop was a bit farther than I’d presumed, so I was getting all anxious about if I’d cramp from the delay.  No cramp, so that was good, but again, I obviously didn’t get enough water in me, though didn’t realize it at the time.  I really hate water stops.

At this point, my pace is starting to lag and I’m thinking I suck, why is this happening, interspersed with positive attempts, like how strong I am and all that jazz.   Well, you can imagine which side was winning.  When we come to the little hill towards Falls Bridge, I push it hard, knowing it’s easier once that bit’s over, but not feeling too good.

I had one more half-assed water stop at mile 11 and that’s when it happened.  I can’t even remember clearly how it started, I think I moved to the side of the road and just basically sat down.  Then this really handsome guy comes over and asks me if I’m OK.  He’s just standing there, I’ve no idea where he came from.  I tell him I don’t feel right, he hands me some Cytomax which I promptly throw up in several heaves.

The medic guys come over on their Segways and ask if I’m ok, I tell them I’m naseous and unsure if I’m alright.  Meanwhile, I ask the handsome guy what his name is, it’s Clarence, which ended up being immensly ironic to me, because if you remember, the angel in It’s A Wonderful Life was named Clarence, and this guy turns into my angel.  He stands there with me and says, I’m sticking with you, you can finish this race, I’ll wait till you’re ready.  I’m like, no, no, my stomach feels awful, you don’t have to wait with me, just go on.  But no, he waits until I say ok, and stand up, so rickety.

And for the next mile, he’s got my hand in his and says, no, this won’t be a DNF, you will finish this race.  Meanwhile, it’s crazy that this total stranger has let me ruin his own!  But it was horrible.  I was walking with this foreign loping uncontrollable gait, feeling like throwing up, telling him that this is all my fault, I was too cocky all this time, I have this popular running blog and I’ve been so sure of what I could do and look at the mess I’m in now.   For some reason, I thought this was my marathon! I was totally out of it.

Btw, picture me in my cute running skirt, covered in dirt and grass (because I wiped my face with grass after I puked).  Runners keep passing, asking, “does she need a medic?” but Clarence says, “no, she’s ok.”

At one point, I say to Clarence, this total stranger, “oh, god, I shit my pants.” which cracks me up in a sick way, as I remember this guy on the Marathon Forum who always talks about The Bear during races.  Shitting in your pants is The Bear.  I couldn’t believe I’d come face to face with The Bear.  So not only was it humiliating looking so filthy, disheveled and weak, I thought I had a huge shit stain on the back of my skirt.  Clarence is nonplussed and says, “no problem, that’s ok” but I’m sure he wondered why I kept muttering on about a bear.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.  I was so disoriented, that although I run on this route every damn day, I had no clue what mile we were at, but I did know that the end was far away.  So I told Clarence I was totally ok with a DNF, I had to DNF, this was the end of the road for me, and just sat myself on the side of the street.  He got help, which came and asked me a few questions, but once I stood up and was totally dizzy, they got into emergency mode.  All these men appeared, opening things and sticking me with things, putting oxygen on me.

Eventually a car comes with the yellow seat of shame.  I call it that because it’s on the end of the car, so you’re facing all these runners coming towards you.  Let me tell you, it’s one thing to be sitting by the road and having everyone (and I mean everyone) who passes, stare at you, but it’s entirely another to be in the yellow seat of shame with an oxygen mask on, especially once it rounded the museum and not a single person didn’t turn their head for a good look.  Horrible.

But what was more horrible was when the medic guy starts asking me simple questions like, “what’s your birthday?” and I can’t quite remember.  I knew my name and my street, but I had no idea what my zipcode was, total blank.  It was at that point that I got scared.

Finally we pull up to the medic tent, two guys take my feet, another takes my back and they carry me in and put me on a cot.  But not before I look at the yellow seat of shame, relieved that I’d left no stain there.

All these wonderful doctor people are around, soooo incredibly nice, it was touching.  The one woman starts asking me questions, “what year is it?”  I thought and thought and finally said, “8! um…2000?  8?” which still didn’t seem like the right answer.  She asked me something else I didn’t know, but the funny thing was when she asked who the president was, I replied with pure vitriol, “BUSH!” (some things you just don’t forget).

They give me some fluids and she tells me I’ll need to go to the hospital because my blood pressure is 80/60 and I couldn’t answer those questions, so they need to know I didn’t have heat stroke. Before I leave she asks me how old I am for the second time, and when I say again, “47″, she said she thought I’d gotten it wrong the first time, didn’t think I was actually that old.  So I loved that woman dearly.

Then I tell one of the guys about Clarence, who wanted to meet me at the Rocky Statue, to tell him I won’t be able to meet him, but there he is in the tent.  I hugged and kissed him but am so sad I didn’t get his phone number, I feel like I at least owe him $65 for the race.  Though it’s a good thing I didn’t continue walking with him when I did, the doc said if I’d continued, I’d have likely blacked out.

Anyway, I turn to get off the cot and onto the gurney, and I can’t even fucking stand.  I fall back on the cot.  So with some help, I get on the gurney and there’s my first ambulance ride.  woohoo

Again, sweetest people imaginable, the girl in the ambulance gives me more fluid and wraps sheets around me because I’m shivering at this point.  My blood pressure’s still a worry, it’s not rising.  Then we get to the hospital, where yet again, incredibly sweet people, everyone smiling and meaning it, just lovely.  This is my first visit to a hospital, so maybe they’re all like this but I had no idea.

They put me in a little room, I tell the doctor what happened, she says my electrolytes are terribly depleted, they hook me up to more fluids, take blood, and eventually my blood pressure rises a bit, though not as fast as she’d like.  Meanwhile, I tell her I pooped my pants which she says is a natural stress reaction to the dehydration.

They take an EKG and it turns out there’s some borderline thing there, might be genetic, but I need to go to my doctor in the next couple of days and get another to make sure it’s not worse.  I can run as soon as I’ve seen my doctor, so it looks like I won’t be out really, since I’m off tomorrow and Tuesday and Wednesday were going to be 5 milers for recovery anyway.

Nick is freaked out when I call from the hospital, and he rushes to my side, waiting with me over 3 hours, bringing a change of clothes, because of course, I told him too that I’d pooped myself.

So how lovely when I’m strong enough to walk to the bathroom to take a piss, I find out I’d never even shat myself! And here I’d announced it to a full assortment of total strangers.  Oh well.

My lessons learned from this surreal adventure are:

1. I am taking my handheld with me for long races from here on in, no question about it.  I don’t care to become a better water stop drinker, I train with the bottle and it gives me confidence to have it on me, so why tempt fate?  Sure, I’ll have to stop at water stations still, but so many fewer and I’m already used to unscrewing the cap as I approach fountains, so what’s the diff if it’s a spigot, fountain, or a few cups from a water station.  Plus, it makes taking gels infinitely easier.

2. Take S-caps for long races if it’s above 45 degrees.  I didn’t bother taking them today, thinking it wasn’t that hot out and besides, I would be taking 2 gels, so my electrolytes should have been covered, but I got fucked up with electrolytes before I even got to my second gel.  If I’d have taken an S-cap, which has about 6 times the electrolytes of gels, I probably would have avoided going down so badly.

3. I’m adjusting my goal marathon time to 3:45.  I know what it feels like to hurt and I don’t like it.   3:45 is only 5 minutes different, but it’s enough to feel I’m still running to potential.  My pace only suffered after I got sick, so I still believe my training has been strong to support a great time in Steamtown, though you can imagine I thought I’d need to bag it entirely when I was in my half-brained state.  I even thought of ending this blog, getting off the forums and quitting running completely.  I was really kooky there for a while.

And now for some silver-linings:

1. It wasn’t a full marathon as I’d imagined it was at one point, so the DNF is only half bad.
2. By experiencing this miserableness in a Half, I’m all the more richer for Steamtown.
3. For the lack of electrolytes, my body never once cramped, if we don’t count my brain.
4. I didn’t shit myself.

Yep, it’s getting down to it, the Philadelphia Distance Run is tomorrow and I’m nervous!  Because it was the first Half I ever did, it’s a goal race for me, but also, it’s an important indicator for my Steamtown goal pace.  So I have a lot riding on this one.

I’ve had an easy last three days running-wise, yesterday was off completely and today was 4 w/6 strides.  There were so many runners in the park this morning plus assorted folks putting up tents and barricades, the mass of porta-pottys are already up and there’s a general feeling of excitement in the air.

Now I’m back home and the task for the afternoon is meatballs.  I had to back out of a forum FE tonight because Nick’s coming back from Portland late this afternoon, so I’m making spaghetti and meatballs for a romantic, carb-loaded homecoming.  He won’t be at the race tomorrow, instead going with our friends Jeff and Lara on a big cycling event, so we’ll both be in athletic heaven for the day.

Besides missing the forum dinner, I’m also electing not to meet up with anyone before the race starts (I’m sorry Matt!!).  After last year, when I waited in the porta-potty line for about 25 minutes, then the gun went off while I was waiting there, barely getting myself into the corral in time, I’d rather stay at home as long as I can (I live very close to the start of the race) and pee in my own bathroom, then just slide into the corral and go.  “Focus” is the name of the game for me tomorrow.

The weather looks fine - sunny and 56-59 at the start, around 67-68ish when I’m done.  I’m wearing a pace band with two sets of numbers on it, just in case.  As far as other accessories, I’m carrying two gel packets instead of a flask because I want to wear my skirt and the waistband isn’t strong enough to hold a flask up.  I’ll also be wearing my chosen marathon shoes instead of the speedier Elixirs.  I’m trading the couple ounces I’d lose for fresher cushioning, the better for after-race recovery, since Steamtown remains the most important consideration here.

My two aims for the race (besides getting a good time) are to deal with gels and waterstops in a calm manner, and also, if there’s a clog of people in front of me, not to panic, but to realize that by slowing down, I’m harboring energy to speed up when I need to.  I remember my silly self from last year, because of those “eek, I can’t get through” moments, I stupidly ended up running all over the place (tangents? what are they??).  Live and learn.

So that’s it from Pre-Race Day Central.  I’ll be back here afterwards and give you all the dirty details.  Wish me the best, please.  Over and out.

I was looking forward to today’s workout, which is hilarious considering it was intervals, but after you do a couple workouts of 1000s and 1200s, 8 w/5×600s and 90sec. recoveries sounds just about fun.

Then I wake up this morning thinking it might not be such a great workout after all.  I didn’t sleep well and yesterday my quads had a little DOMs after  Sunday’s sauna run, which I still felt when I woke up.  Add to that, I checked my resting HR upon waking and it was a bit higher than usual, mid-50s.  Not that I pay a huge amount of attention to it, I don’t do low HR training, but it is a possible sign of overworking, though probably just lack of sleep.

All these nit-picks aside, the weather today was totally in my favor - 65 with 49% humidity and overcast.  Heaven.

So I start this shindig really slow, 4 warmup miles around 9:30 avg. and I wonder as I’m running, how I’m going to infuse myself with enough energy for intervals.  I’m perfectly happy plodding along and the thought of going fast sounds as fun as pushing boulders, at this point.  I wonder on the third mile if I should do a couple strides beforehand to get myself moving, but seriously, I’m too lazy.  I figure, whatever, I’ll just do this.

As usual, if you’ve been following, my interval goal pace is 7:15s (goal 5K pace converted off my goal marathon time of 3:40).  So the first one starts, I make a point not to check my Garmin till half-way, because, without fail, I always start too fast on the first one, then see the number, get shocked, pull back, then go too slow, then have to speed up to get normal again.  It’s silly.  Today, I’m just going to do them and whatever happens, happens.

So the first one ends, hmmm…7:10.  Good, a tad bit too fast, but reasonable.  The second one, 7:10 again.  Uh, ok.  Third…7:01.  This is weird.  Ordinarily, I’d be all, “oh no, way too fast, I’m going to die on the others, must…hold…back.”.  Today, I’m like, “cool, lets see what else”.  Fourth comes…7:03.  Wow, this is going well.  Then one more to finish off the set…7:07.

Avg pace - 7:06, the fastest set of intervals I’ve ever run!  And as for the make-sure-you-didn’t-do-them-too-fast test of “could you do another at that speed?”, I’d say, why yes, I sure could of!  And that leaves me feeling downright jubilant, because I’m not so far off from being in a new “minute”, as I refer to it.

See, I visualize my progress as a huge clock face.  My paces for the past few months leave me restful in the 10s, comfortably situated in the 9s, visiting the 8s quite a bit, and when I’m frisky, I’ll hang out with my racier pals, the 7s.  So to think I may be hanging with the devil-may-care 6s before too long is wild!

But enough future flight of fancies, back to the rest of this week.  I’ve got 11 easy tomorrow with a trip up and down smile hill.  Then 4 recovery, a day off, and 4 w/strides.  Then Sunday, it’s the Philadelphia Distance Run!! And now, because I’m shameless, reckless and somewhat stupid, I’ll announce my goals here for all to see: I’d be cool with 1:46:something, very happy with 1:45:something and thrilled with 1:44:something.

We shall see…

Jim asked a good question in a comment to the previous post and when I started to write a lengthy reply, I realized I might as well put it all out there in its own entry.

He asked, “Hey Flo, I should think if you hit your goal time, you’ll have a much deeper BQ than most people manage. Why not go for Boston if you do that?”  Here are my thoughts:

A “deeper BQ” would exist only because of my age and gender.  If I was a guy, I’d be sweating bullets to make the grade, wouldn’t even have a chance this go round.  So it’s all relative when they give you a clear advantage.  But mainly, I’m looking at the big picture…

They say you have 7-10 years of improvement for running when you start, no matter how old you are when you begin.  We know that growth eventually slows down dramatically after the newbie rush and the PRs dwindle from minutes to seconds, but still, 7-10 years is the common improvement window given.

It’s been a little over a year and a half for me, so forget 7-10 years (who can think that far ahead?)  but 2 or 3 years…that’s a time frame I can envision.  So if I keep working a steady and straight line and manage to stay healthy, I could be posting some interesting numbers down the road, for an old lady anyway 

So when the day comes that I am really ready to tackle Boston, I want to do it as an Officially Strong Runner.  That means more race experience; running harder races, hillier races and not caring so much if I PR or not, one who takes a bad race as just another notch on the belt.  I’m quite far from that right now, still content to seek out the flat (or in Steamtown’s case, net downhill) races while I get faster, but that’s cool.  There’s time.

So that’s the deal.  I might get my goal next month at Steamtown, I might not, I might get a BQ but not the one I want, I might crash and burn out of nowhere, but whatever happens, Boston will be there when it’s time.

Today was the day I’ve been scared of for a while now, my second (and last) MP run on the Pfitz plan: 17 miles w/14MP.  With my 3:40 goal, we’re talking 14 @ 8:23/mi.

If you’re just tuning in, my fear of this run arose from a not-so-great first MP run last month.  Though I completed the run as required, I was disappointed that it felt harder than I think it should have, and although that was likely due to the fact that I got sloshed the night before, I couldn’t help thinking “what if that’s my fitness talking, not the booze?” so today was very important as far as determining if my goal pace is a pipe dream or a viable prospect.

With that in mind, I knew I could complete the workout today no matter what (I’m bulldog determined, if nothing else), but I was truly concerned with how it’d feel - if it was in any way a struggle like the last one, I would have to reassess my goal, no ifs, ands or buts.

So yesterday was full of freakouts while I scanned the weather sites all day.  First it was set to be 21mph winds, then it was 97% humidity with a high dewpoint, both of which would make it uncomfortable and harder.  In the end, both threats were totally unfounded, it was a gorgeous morning today, sunny and 68 at 7am, humidity from 67% to 50% by the end of the run.

Had a pretty good sleep despite the fact that I’ve developed a habit of waking up around 4am for tossing and turning when an important run is scheduled.  I’m used to it now, so no surprise.  Woke up, made myself eat a bit of oatmeal, had the prerequisite coffee for poop-making (works every time), dressed, filled the flask with a couple gels, took the handheld out of the fridge, clipped on my mp3 player, stuck sunglasses on my head and out the door I went.

My plan was to stay on my favorite side of the river today, even though it meant covering the same ground a couple times, it’s more fun due to better people-watching and I wasn’t disappointed, runners were out in droves.  It was a fuel-belt fashion show today with all the marathoners doing their thing.

But I am wasting time getting to the good stuff, huh?  hee hee

I KILLED IT!!!  From the very beginning of the MP miles, I felt so comfortable about it, I was reminded of what it’s like when you’re looking for a new place to live, you look at a few houses and you know they just aren’t right, then you open the door to the one and you just know, this is it.  That’s how I felt at Marathon Pace today.  All the doubts that have been living with me, for oh…since I registered were quieted in an instant.  I just KNEW this is the right pace, the right goal - my Marathon House.

When I got to the 10th MP mile (mile 13 overall), I started to feel a bit tired, but I said to myself, “This is MY house!  I belong here!” and wouldn’t you know, I owned it again, gathering strength as it went.

My MP splits were: 8:23, 8:23, 8:16, 8:17, 8:20, 8:23, 8:23, 8:25, 8:21, 8:25, 8:21, 8:13, 8:12, 8:09.  Avg MP miles 8:19.  And remember folks, Steamtown is a net downhill of 955′, so it’s looking beautiful for Oct. 12.

And with that, I’m high on life right now…seriously.  My body feels great, legs feel fab, the only reminder is my butt’s a bit tired (go figure), but that’s it!  So tonight I’ve got some serious celebration on tap, a delayed birthday dinner with friends, but in my mind, I’ll be celebrating this run and the excitement of an adventure on the brink.

Sunday’s 22 was surprising in that my legs felt great afterwards and I had no soreness at all.  I expected DOMS yesterday but…nothing.  So I was feeling ready for today’s 8w/5×600s at 5K race pace.  What I didn’t take into account was that the 22-miler topped a peak week of 57 miles, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when once I got outside, all I wanted to do was travel at a snail’s pace.

My goal was to hit the same as last week, 7:15 avg, since that’s McMillans corresponding 5K pace for a 3:40 marathon. I begin the intervals and my first one is 7:26…hrmph!  That sucks.  OK, time to start paying attention!  Got it together and did the deed.  Intervals splits were 7:26, 7:14, 7:09, 7:12, 7:08…avg. 7:14. So it ended up ok, though I’d have preferred even pacing.

Funny though, afterwards I felt really energized and instead of my usual apres-interval-poopedness where it’s all I can do not to walk home, I continued on to run 4.5 more miles at 9:01 avg. pace, leaving me with a total of 10.5 for the morning.  This is good because I’m having to rearrange my schedule to accommodate Monday’s race and toploading the week will allow me to get a mini-taper in there.

Meanwhile, I’m having little shivers of anticipation for the race.  It’s an automatic PR because it’s my first 4-mile race, but I want to do well.  On the other hand, with marathon training it can go either way - you have tired legs so short races might not be up to par, then again, you’ve been improving fitness, so it could be a good time.  I don’t race a whole lot, so it’s hard not to want to set an aggressive goal.

I think the way I’ve figured is to take my 7:52avg. from last week’s 7 mile tempo, convert it to 12K, then input that as a race into my Daniels’ spreadsheet, which predicts a 30:19 (7:35 pace) for a 4-mile race.  Since I’m basing it off a tempo, it shouldn’t leave me redlining.  Then again, I don’t know the course at all, it’s in a different town - though I must say, Google Street View was very helpful in this regard.  I was able to “travel” a good chunk of the course that way, so it’s not a complete mystery.

My main thing is, I need to stop making races (especially little ones like this) so “oooh, big deal” in my head.  I think the way to do that is to do more of them so when they suck, it just gets absorbed into the mishmash of race outcomes.  Here’s to a future of mucho racing and carefree attitudes!  Yeah, right, haven’t I said this before?

Tip for the day: If you wear a water belt or carry a handheld and you find the nipple is sticking, just rub a little vegetable oil on it or give it a squirt of Pam and work it up and down a few times. Works like a charm.

Today was a 15. The plan called for 14 but I’ve been adding a couple miles to my long runs and since this weekend is my first MP run and I’ll be damned if I’m going to make that any tougher, I figured I’d leave that as is and just add one measly mile today. No biggie, just stating this so if you’re doing Pfitz, you don’t wonder why my schedule looks a little weird.

I left at 6:30 and a few minutes after, it started pouring rain which lasted for maybe 15-20 minutes. It was wonderfully refreshing but I wasn’t thrilled, considering I had a long way to go in wet socks and shoes. But when the unexpected happens, you just have to chalk it up to something that could happen during the race, and deal with it. The wet socks didn’t bug me till mile 13, but once I got home, me and my pruney little toes were delighted to get those shoes off. Avg. pace for the run 9:22.

Do people ask you the same questions when they find you’re a runner? I always get “What about your knees? How are they doing?” which I find charming, as if that’s the only thing that can go wrong with a person’s legs, and “What do you think about when you’re running?”. This last question always leaves me stymied. I think about everything and nothing. I’m always “thinking hard” whether I’m sitting quietly or running, so it’s just more of what I’m always doing.

Today, one of the things I was thinking about is failure. I have this want: a want to BQ, to finish the marathon strong, and all I can do is train as well as I can and hope the weather and my body allow that to happen. But it’s true for a lot of people that, when looking at their training, are set for a successful marathon when something unforeseen happens that dashes that hope to the ground. At least for that day.

So I’m working on being prepared for failure, at the same time I’m working at succeeding. I want to cover all my bases and be circumspect if this time, it doesn’t go my way. I italicize “this time” because I really like italics, but mostly because when I signed up for Steamtown, I thought of this first one as a test to see if marathons are even for me. Now that I find myself thoroughly enjoying the training and the long runs and, well, everything about it…I know this is the start of a long love affair with the marathon.

But it spooks me to hear the constant warnings given to new marathoners, “don’t make a goal your first time, just enjoy it, blah blah blah”. It’s almost as if you’re expected to fail. Which doesn’t make sense to me if you’ve trained correctly (ie. using a proper training plan and fulfilling all the required workouts and paces). What is it about a first time marathon that makes a well-prepared runner blow-up? I know it happens and could happen to me as much as anyone.

Which brings me back to what I was thinking about on my run today, preparing for failure. It’s probably not a smart thing to do in that it could mess with my head too negatively, but I’ve been imagining what it will feel like to not get my goal. In a way, this takes a pressure off, because my thinking self can relax and just know that blow-ups happen and the next marathon will, hopefully, be a chance to redeem myself.

Can you believe I’m already imagining the funeral for my goal? Yet all my paces are perfectly on track, no problems with any of the runs so far, but still…learning to give myself a break just in case.

Great run today, 8 miles w/10×100m strides. I’m getting acclimated to the weather finally, yay!

Because I’m so forgetful when I have to do anything repetitive (I even forget what lightpole I’m at when only 3.5 of them=100m), I plugged the strides into a Garmin workout which worked really great. Didn’t have to think about which stride I was on or how many lightpoles I’d passed and since strides don’t require a specific recovery time, just that you be fully recovered, all I had to do was press the lap button when ready for a new set.

So 6 miles @ 8:50, 10 speedy strides (working on keeping shoulders back and trunk centered) then a half mile home. Felt strong!

I didn’t take water with me today, opting for the fountain. My latest “decision” concerning the fountain btw, is: I don’t stop my Garmin to take a drink or refill my bottles, unless there’s a line, then I’m allowed to stop it. This mimics the marathon more honestly, I think.

On a related note, on the way back there was a line for the fountain and the woman in front of me is a vigorous walker I’ve seen for over a year but have never spoken with, though we always wave to each other upon passing. So it was nice that today, when she realized I was behind her, she made a cute comment about my hair color changing back to brown. It was sweet to finally exchange pleasantries with this non-strange stranger.

Back to the clock stopping, that brings up a great point about goal times. I said in my last post that my goal is 8:23, which would be a 3:40 marathon. Mind you, I’m not married to it - it’s open to change and likely will, but I like having something to shoot for and it’s as good a number as anything at this point.

BUT! Planning on a 3:40 marathon doesn’t really equate to a 8:23/mile, it means more like running 8:13-8:17 after you count in water stops, possible potty breaks, a stretch or two, not running perfect tangents, etc. I read this a few months ago on the Marathon Race Training forum, where they said subtract 1-2% to get the “real” pace, which makes a lot of sense. So, you could say I have 2 goals, one is a 3:40 marathon, the other, an 8:23 pace. As I get closer to D-day, I’ll know if either of these is reality. I’ve vowed to train as honestly as possible so if I’m not hacking it, Que Sera Sera, I’ll just readjust my goal time to suit. No shame in that, just the fun of trying.