~Me, May 2008
What a difference 10 years makes!
There is no use trying to build anticipation in this recap. I can't hold it in. So, spoiler alert: I broke two hours, I broke two hours, I BROKE TWO HOURS!!!
In the four or so days since I ran the RussVegas Half Marathon, my mind has gone back and forth between ecstatic giddiness and total denial. Did I really do that? No, it can't be. Oh wait, I did. I really did!!
Last year when I ran RussVegas for the first time, it was a last minute decision (registering just 5 weeks before the race) but for some reason, I got it in the back of my head that I'd see how things went and maybe try and break 2 hours. It was a goal that followed "just finishing" and then "getting a PR". It wasn't a goal I had ever had before. I'm not sure what my thought process leading up to that made me think to add "break 2" to my list.
I didn't break 2 and when my next half training season arrived later in the summer, again in the back of my head, I thought I'd just tuck that goal away for a possibility. I trained with a break 2 plan "just to see how it worked". I was not at all confident in my ability, and wasn't sure why I wanted it as a goal in the first place. Soaring Wings Half Marathon happened and while I did PR I didn't break 2. But that was the race where I knew with all my heart that I wanted to. It needed to be my number one goal. And I needed to make it known to anyone who would listen.
I registered for RussVegas in February after much consideration. One thing being, how in the world was I going to train for a half marathon while on our cruise vacation?? Seems silly to take that into consideration, but I had to. I had a big goal I wanted to make. If I was just running the race for the experience and didn't care about time, I wouldn't concern myself as much with speed days and long runs while on vacation. The answer to the question, in case anyone is wondering, is lots and lots of laps. Or a treadmill of course. Who wants to run on a treadmill when there's an amazing view to be seen from the track though!?
So from the very start of training, I made it known that my number one goal this time was to break 2 hours. Having people know gave me a lot of accountability. It also terrified me. My heart would skip a beat any time I thought about it. In training, I'd visualize myself crossing the finish line after a big race to cross the line at 1:59:59. My long runs all went well (ok except one. We don't talk about it though. lol ) My speed days were awesome. I can't get enough of those. I was feeling confident and quite prepared by the time race day arrive. Not once had I told myself I couldn't make this goal. There was no doubt, only questioning. I knew a sub-2 was in my future, but I did tell myself that it MIGHT not be this time. I feel like I have to leave that little 1% of realism in the mix so that if it didn't happen I wouldn't be devastated. Which is laughable. OF COURSE I'd be devastated!
Race morning I was so nervous. I tried to tell myself it was just another long run. A long run with some speed work thrown in. No big deal! Ha!! Yeah right. :) I went back and forth on what layers to wear. We went back to our car two separate times for things that were forgotten. Thankfully the car was only two blocks from the start line, but still. I tied and retied my shoes half a dozen times. Anything and everything that I thought could affect my race, I messed with. Maybe I just needed to fidget.
About 7:15 we joined the pack of runners behind the 1:55 pacer. While my number one goal was to break 2 hours, my number 2 sub goal was to get Scott a PR, and my number three sub sub goal, that I knew was pretty unrealistic, was to stick with this guy. Turns out, his method of pacing is to take off pretty fast, and then, it seems, slow a bit in the end to reach the goal. I don't know that for fact, but I know that that I held a pace close to what is needed for a 1:55 finish for quite a while and I lost site of him pretty early on, and I know that based on pictures I have seen, he did get his group across the finish line at 1:55. It's interesting to see different strategies.
It's funny how easily my perspective is swayed. Last year the stretch of course from almost 5 1/2 to a little over 7 miles was so nice. It was one nice long road. It smelled like honeysuckle. It was beautiful and green. It had lightly rolling hills. This year, it was long, all on the same road. There was nothing good to smell. And those lightly rolling hills had grown. By mile 7 I knew I had started to slow. Scott had kept a place a little ways ahead of me almost the whole time. He'd fall back to check on me, but he knows that if he's in front of me, that's the way to push me. I'd see him look over his shoulder now and then. A couple times he'd run backwards. Because, you know, it's that easy right? lol
My average paced started to slow and I started to wonder if the 9 minute average I as hoping for would be fast enough. We turned onto the campus of Arkansas Tech and wound our way through many groups of students who had spirit stations set up for spectating. All spectators are amazing, but I think it's pretty cool that these college students do this when they could be studying... or sleeping. :) I found my flow again around mile 10. My pace at this point was fluctuating between 8:57 and 8:59. I just needed to hold it here.
Somewhere in the middle of the course, we had started to pass the runners and walkers that did the early start. It's awesome to see how happy they were when we'd give words of encouragement, that they'd then pass back. At one point, I was among a bunch of ladies and as we passed a walker I heard her say "Wow, the women are really kicking booty today!!" Yes, yes we were. Including anyone who was walking.
I was 11 miles in when I realized that I had not seen the 2 hour pacer. I don't know why this surprised me, but it did. That 1% of realism sneaking in I guess. This is the point where I realized as long as I kept moving, I was going to make my goal! Only problem was, the water bottle I was carrying was empty and I was so parched it was distracting. :-O I didn't want to take any time to get water at an aid station because I knew I was cutting things close and the worst hill of the course was coming up, so I played my "Princess" card and asked Scott if he'd be able to catch up to me if I kept going while he filled my bottle. So we go through the aid station, Scott pops off to fill my bottle, and I run through a crowd of volunteers spritzing runners with misty water. It was barely 50 degrees outside, but that mist was incredibly refreshing and so very welcomed!
The last mile was my slowest. Which is crazy to me considering my walk was in mile 12, not 13. A majority of mile 13 is on one straight stretch of road, with a gentle incline. Throughout the course there are many inclines. I hesitate to call them hills because for some, they are probably hardly noticeable. I notice them them though. Every. Single. One. The short ones, and definitely the long ones. The ones that go on for blocks and blocks. It felt like this is how mile 13 was. I'd like to drive it sometime and see how it actually is. :) What I did know, was that this was the last stretch, and the next turn I made I would see the finish line. I don't remember seeing a lot on this road. I know it was a busier section of town. I was just so focused on finishing that I wasn't looking around. I do remember, about a block or so from the last turn I saw a man with a medal. I had seen the medal online, and then in person at the expo, but seeing it ON someone was a blast of reality. That was going to be mine!! I congratulated the man, and he told me to keep it up I was almost there.
We made the last turn and Scott was no longer ahead of me. He'd done his job. My own personal pacer. Now we were going to finish this thing together. I looked up and all I saw was the finish line. The clock read 1:58 and some amount of seconds. I felt like we were alone. I didn't see anyone. I heard everything though. Every applause, every shout of encouragement. Those were for me. My finish line kick showed up. Boy, did it show up. I watched the clock turn to 1:59 and tick closer to 2 hours. I knew I had my goal because my chip and watch time were started after the clock, but i NEEDED to beat the clock. I ran harder. I heard the announcers, and realized they were counting down. 10... 9.... 8... They got to five, and somehow I managed to pull from even deeper. I felt like I was going to fall face first over the finish line. At least I would make it though. 3... 2... 1.
1:59:59 I crossed that line.
Chip time: 1:58:50, avg pace 9:04
Garmin: 1:58:51, avg pace 9:01, 13.2 miles
Placement overall: 215/1262
Gender: 61/839
Age group: 11/140
My Garmin tells me I was coming in at a 6:55 pace. I could not contain my smile as I crossed the finish line. I LOVE a good finish line kick, and that kick was AMAZING. I smiled my way to the most precious little girl (a patient at Arkansas Children's Hospital, where race proceeds and fundraising support go) and received my medal. That's when the tears came. Big, happy, sobs. Mixed with a little bit of making sure my breakfast didn't make a return appearance. :-O
I was still in the finisher's area going back and forth between laughing and crying when another runner came up to me and said, "You look like you need a hug! Are you ok?!" I tried to tell her that I was great, but because this complete stranger cared enough to come over to me I started crying again. She hugged me and then said, "You did fantastic. You OWN THIS. You should be so proud" and on and on. When she pulled away I insisted they were happy tears. Scott told her I had just broke 2 hours for the first time. Her eyes opened wide and she exclaimed, "EXCELLENT!" while giving me a fist bump. Her excitement for me was just like a family member or friend would have shown. (Or, at this point, HAVE shown. :-D )
This lady with her caring hug and excited fist bump, the encouragement between runners and walkers, the man with the medal as I was closing in on the finish, the spectators, this is what the running community is about. Age, pace, man or woman, height or weight... none of it matters! We all trained. We are all working hard for the same purpose. It makes me so happy.
Speaking of spectators... I just have to say, no race that I have done has had spectators as good as Soaring Wings. Except this one. Not only were there volunteers at the aid stations who were fantastic, but there were groups of people all along the course. I don't think we went more than a few minutes without seeing at least a couple people. At one point we saw an elderly lady, on her walker all alone, clapping and cheering as if she knew every one who went by. On the complete opposite end of her being a lone spectator, there were multiple sections that had massive groups of people. The whole thing is just so amazing!! It was in these sections with the bigger groups, that I saw a friend and her two kids, who happen to be past students of mine. They were there cheering for their dad, but it was awesome to see familiar faces around the course.
Once the adrenaline rush wore off, the cold set in quickly. We took a few pictures, and started to head back to the car. I kept getting drawn to the finish line chute though. I so badly wanted to stay and cheer and watch people finish. I couldn't get enough. However, shaking from being cold isn't really a good thing, so I forced myself away.
I'm sure I'm leaving stuff out. This was such an awesome experience. And even though mid-race I was seriously thinking I wasn't sure I wanted to try and break 2 again, I'm already considering what more I am capable of doing.
10 years ago I ran three miles for the first time and it wasn't until then that I considered myself a runner. I had no idea what I was capable of at the time. My goal was only to complete a 5k 6 months later.
I once read that a runner will peak 7 years after they started running.... I don't remember what the source was, but I do remember being surprised by the statistic. And of course because I was, and still am learning (one is always learning, right?), I believed it.
I would say I have not peaked yet. The last year has shown me how false it really is. Who decides when a runner peaks anyway? What does it mean to be at my peak? As long as I keep trying, and putting in my best effort, can't I always be at my peak? I don't think it has to mean I've reached the point in my running career where I have gone as fast as I possibly can, and will never get another PR. Maybe this IS it. Maybe the one time I break 2 will be the only time.
On the other hand, maybe not.
