New River Marathon Race Report
Please be advised..there may be some swearing...
Please be advised..there may be some swearing...
So, massively delayed race report. First, it just took me awhile to sort myself out and I wanted to let some of the emotion from the disappointment fade so that I could take a more analytical look at what actually went wrong during the race.
The race weekend started off with a late arrival to New River after a long drive through some annoying Raleigh traffic jams, luckily I wasn't the driver. The proprietors of the Bed and Breakfast were clearly annoyed with the late arrival, because 'we have to get up early too, we're manning a water station." Cry me a river...I'm running 26.2 miles.
They met us on the porch, the male of the duo reeked of booze and greeted us with a gruff "You in the military?" And wanted to relive his 'glory' days in the 82nd. His stories sounded pretty fishy to me. Really, I just wanted to get to the room and get my head down. These people were weird and it was immediately obvious that there would not be a repeat performance at this B&B.
The race itself...
The race weekend started off with a late arrival to New River after a long drive through some annoying Raleigh traffic jams, luckily I wasn't the driver. The proprietors of the Bed and Breakfast were clearly annoyed with the late arrival, because 'we have to get up early too, we're manning a water station." Cry me a river...I'm running 26.2 miles.
They met us on the porch, the male of the duo reeked of booze and greeted us with a gruff "You in the military?" And wanted to relive his 'glory' days in the 82nd. His stories sounded pretty fishy to me. Really, I just wanted to get to the room and get my head down. These people were weird and it was immediately obvious that there would not be a repeat performance at this B&B.
The race itself...
Part 1 - En Boco Lupo...
...Or Tak tak tak...
...Or Tak tak tak...
In the Italian language En Boco Lupo means "in the mouth of the wolf" and is a phrase of good strength and luck. This was one of my phrases that I used to keep me mentally strong during the race. Not only is it a tough phrase, in another language, it makes me think of my time in Europe and everything I learned about life while living there. I miss it so much.
My race did start off En Boco Lupo. I felt great! Although it was shorter sleep than I would have planned, I slept well and got up feeling positive. The B&B duo served up a pretty good breakfast, some tedious conversation and led us to the start line. Even though I thought they were weird, I was looking forward to seeing the familiar faces of the B&B proprieters at miles 13 & 24.
This marathon was the smallest race I've ever attended. I didn't have to stand in line for my chip, race packet or porta-potty!? What?! I was already thinking that a Boston Qualifying time would also earn me a place in my age group.
The race directors delayed the start of the race by 15 minutes for late comers. Most of us racers that were ready to go were not a fan of this decision because it was only 35 degrees outside! Yup...my concerns of over-heating were unnecessary. In fact, I was wishing I had my shorty-running tights and a pair of gloves. I was literally freezing! Luckily I had one of my Army brown T's for my throw away shirt otherwise I would have really been a popsicle in my race tank and shorts.
At 7:45 about 300 runners gathered on the New River Bridge and waited for the starting gun....oh wait a minute...no starting gun, just a guy yelling 'GO' into a bullhorn. Yep That's as good as it gets in New River.
So we were off...I tried to keep in mind some pre-race advice: "Run your own race, and better to start slow and finish strong."
These well-time words were really important as I notoriously start off too fast. And trust me I wanted to go fast, not only was I excited, but I was C-O-L-D! When I checked my GPS in the first half-mile I was running a 7:45. This was too fast, and I slowed it right down to 8:23 per mile...the BQ race-pace.
I tried to run a smart race. I knew that there was a pretty significant hill around mile 17 and I certainly wanted to conserve energy before I got to it, but I knew the hill was going to slow me down as I got a taste of a pretty large hill in the first two miles. So, I decided to allow myself to run a little faster than I had originally planned to put some time in the bank, so to speak. I tried to maintain between 8:18 and 8:23. This was totally manageable and I felt fantastic.
I was running well and I actually felt happy. The music on my iPod was perfect (thank you contributors!) I felt really good at the 10k mark, and aside from accidentally getting gatorade up my nose, things were going really well.
I breezed through the half-way point still feeling well, however irritated that the water station only had gatorade and no water. Also, there was no food at the half-way. I was expecting some hammer packs or at least a sliced banana. But no joy. So I just kept running.
Miles 14, 15 and 16 were still pretty good, I was running well and happy.
As predicted the hill at mile 17 reared it's head. I started it up it, optimistic, it was a long one but I could make it to the top and I put my head down and started thinking of my second motivational phrase, unbreakable....
Part 2 - Unbreakable...
...Or Unbreakable My Arse.....
So, I started up the hill, thinking over and over, unbreakable, en boco lupo, unbreakable, etc etc etc....and created a steady effort to make my way to the top. Just as I could see the crest, the course hooked right and runners were led up a dirt path. I thought, 'wow! Pay-dirt! we don't have to continue to the top. Ha! Hill? What hill?' Well, my friends, I spoke too soon. The path hooked right up a little pea-gravel road and I was faced with a virtual mountain. It didn't appear to be very long, but it was extremely steep. Unbreakable, I thought, and tried to mind my form and get myself up the 'hill' (read mountain) with short, quick steps.
Over all this time I had managed to stay on pace, and was still optmistic for a BQ. I new I had a little time in the bank and because of my 3 in 1 training I was determined to control the last 10ks of the race.
A sort of informal pace group had formed, and I had been running with a set of sisters that I affectionately referred to as Thing 1 and Thing 2, two chatty older gentlemen and another guy with a buzz cut wearing those icky 5-finger shoes.
Well, this hill (read mountain) busted the group up. Thing 1 pulled away from Thing 2 and 5-finger guy started walking as soon as he saw the mountain. The chatty Cathy's clammed up and tried to push through.
I also chose to persevere through the hill (read mountain), and despite my pace I was determined to keep running. I passed a guy who had succumbed to walking and he said "good job you got this."
I continued to run, but everyone in front of me was beginning to walk.
My legs were in serious pain. Literally, it was painful to run, my quads were screaming and my calves were beginning to ache too. The pea gravel was unstable beneath my feet and keeping my form steady was creating a lot of extra work for my body. I pulled up behind Thing 1 who had also decided to walk. I checked my garmin and decided, based on the pace, that it would be wiser for me to try to power-walk up this hill and conserve my muscles, I still have at least 8 miles to go!
So for the first time ever, I walked during a race. So much for Unbreakable.
I tried not to get too hung up on it, because I was trying to convince myself that it was for the greater good. Once I reached to top I picked the pace back up and hoped to relocate my pace as I coasted down the hill. My legs were so stiff, it was unreal how difficult it was to even run downhill. I noticed as I started to ascend the next hill that my downhill portion seeme awfully short. In fact, it was about half the size. My legs were screaming but once again I tried to continue to run up the hill. I tried to take short, quick steps, but my feet were sliding around on top of the pea-gravel and dust. It was causing my legs to cramp. Typically, I don't get cramps, but my right quadricep felt like it was completely twisted and my calves were both seriously cramping. It was so painful I couldn't believe it. I tried to stretch my calves out, no joy. I tried to alter my gait and foot strike, but that didn't help either. I was also determined not to stop running. At this point I had adopted a qualify or die trying mentality. I didn't care if my muscles tore right in half, I was going to keep running. Unfortunately, my pace was utterly shot and I just could not force my body to move faster. I couldn't wait to move downhill, little did I know that the downhill would be worse.
Thing 2 had caught back up to Thing 1 and they regained their paces and started zipping down the hill. I tried to follow suit, but pain exploded through my legs with every step. It was an utter nightmare. Again, I just tried to push myself down the hill, promising myself that the muscles would unseize and I could regain normal running. About half way down the hill the pain started to subside, and I was just finding a pace, it was about 18.5 miles and here, the race organizers put a water/food station. NO ONE used this water station. Literally. First, it was tucked up along a bank so you would have to run up a little slope to get to it. After trudging up the dueling mountains, no one wanted to go there. Second, everyone was just starting to regain a pace, it was not the time to introduce another disruption. Despite the fact that I was thirsty, I did not stop at this water station.
I saw Thing 1 and Thing 2 breeze down the hill and seemed like they were about 5 minutes ahead of me in an intant.
I was still in serious pain and every step was agony, but after running up those hills, I wasn't going to stop running.
I expected to start feeling bad around mile 20, but at mile 19 I was completly disgusted with the entire race, and was even in tears at one point. Totally pathetic. After being so optimistic, I can't believe those hills squashed me. At mile twenty, I just wanted to 'just get there.'
Part 3 - Just Get There
...Or...So much for controlling the last 10k of this race....
I really had plan to own this portion of the race. I trained for this, both mentally and physically and I was feeling pretty confident when I set off, but now I had to struggle. I made three goals when I set off, just to try to quell disappointment if I didn't BQ. So first, BQ; Second, Personal Record; Third, at least better than my last race. With this in mind, I left my hopes for a BQ on the second hill, but with 10ks still in front of me I was still hopeful for a PR, but I had to maintain at least a 9-minute mile, at that point I was about a 9:12 per mile, so I had to pick it up.
At this point, I was pretty pissed off and I just could not get my legs to move. They were so tight and I just couldn't get my body to move the way I wanted. I was mentally pushing myself, but I couldn't get my body to cooperate. I was so annoyed!
Tired and hungry, I grabbed a Hammer gel and some water at the next station. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted it was honey-lemony and I loved it! I wanted a whole handful of them so I could take them home and spread them on toast! A little happier I plodded on...the next two miles were pretty painful and I was having trouble maintaining my new pace. I was counting the steps until mile 24 where I could get a drink and hopefully some more of this yummy gel.
I went through the water station at mile 24, and the bumbling idiots had no water, only gatorade. I did not want to wash my gel down with gatorade. I tore the gel open only to find that it wasnt honey-lemony goodness but some icky, mocha-espresso abomination! It was disgusting, but I didn't dare spit it out, because i didn't want brown goo all over my nice running outfit.
The next two miles were basically hell, just after the water station I was still hopeful to PR. But I just couldn't maintain the pace no matter how hard I tried to convince my body to run faster it just wouldn't. I fell off the the 9-minute per mile pace and just couldn't pick it back up. I just could not get my body to move faster. I tried all kinds of tricks even resorted to pretending it was an Army Physical Fitness Test. As my PR slipped out of my reach it was all I could not to succumb to walking again. I was so depressed. It was even worse when I hooked a left turn toward the finish line into a lumpy field. It was really difficult to keep my footing and I completely lost interest in a PR or almost even finishing at all. I really, really wanted to walk.
But, I didn't and pushed through to the finish line in 4:02.
Massive. Massive. Disappointment.
It took forever for the volunteer to remove my timing chip and hand me my medal, which was totally lame.
An aside about the medal: First, it's a hand crafted medal made out of wood. It looks like kids in the highschool shop made it. That's not so bad, I know that this type of wood and craft is local to the area...but here is what made the medal lame: It said New River Marathon, Half-Marthon & 5k. Really? Really? New River? The 5k runners and the Marathon runners get the same medal? Bad form, New River. Blah.
I hobbled toward the car, because my legs were totally seizing up. Walking was difficult, standing was exruciating and sitting wasn't that great either.
Oh yeah. On top of everything else. I was crying. Yep. Full-on sobbing, alligator tears. Mostly tears of self-pity, loss, and a bit of pain. Totally humiliating.
My recovery was in short excruciating. I frankly have never been in so much pain. I had a quick massage at the finish. Stretched and tried to keep my system flushed with water. But if I sat for more than 15-20 minutes at a time my legs would completely lock up. I fidgeted all evening through dinner and a movie. I fidgeted all through the night and despite obvious exhaustion managed to get very little sleep. I fidgeted the whole 3-plus hour ride back to Fayetteville. Sunday evening I was still in bit of pain. Basically, I was miserable. I didn't feel like eating, and my muscles were just wrecked. Walking was still difficult and I couldn't get comfortable in bed, in fact, I had to take a sleep aid so I could rest. This, coupled with my sadness over my failure was pure misery.
I felt like I wasted the last 18-weeks. It was so difficult training in the German winter, the time I sacrificed, maintaining training during my move, maintaining training during my transition back to the U.S. and my new routines. Although I completed the race I felt I had very little to show for my effort and really had nothing to be proud of, even my medal was lame.
Looking back on the race. I really think it was those hills that ate my lunch. My program did include hill training, but I couldn't mimic what was on the course. I really don't think I started off too fast, I was hydrated enough and the weather was basically ideal. I just couldn't make my body conquer those hills fast enough.
I am still extremely disappointed that I didn't meet at least one of my goals. But I know that running the Boston Marathon is still in my future, so I'm on the hunt for another marathon, most likely in the Autumn, if my job cooperates. Suggestions?!
Before I even ran the New River Marathon I registered for the Fort Bragg Army Birthday 10-Miler. I was hoping that if things were to go awry, I would have a new race to look forward to, and if they didn't I wouldn't over-celebrate. Well, this race is tomorrow and I'm fairly ill-prepared. Since the New River Marathon there have been quite a few unforeseen changes in my life. Also, my job became quite busy and I find myself in a transition phase once again. Still feeling the sting of failure, more transition, upswing in my workload and oppressive North Carolina heat have drastically curbed my running. Although I've managed to log a few miles I haven't really done any of the speed work necessary to PR this race. Intially I was hopeful to run 75, but right now, that doesn't seem feasable. So we will see, but there is definitely more racing in my future and it looks like MeLLiSSa's Foot Notes is not yet defunct.
Oh and lest I forget my loyal run supporters. Thanks so much for everything! You know who you are!
Here's to better luck next time.....
In Summation: Failure=Sucks; Massive Hills=Soul Destroying; Boston Marathon=In my future; NC Heat=Oppressive; One Medal for All Races=Not Very Nice; My Friends=The Best Ever!; Faith in Mankind=Non-existent
Upcoming Races...
June Races:
Fort Bragg Army Birthday 10-Miler
July Races:
Ellwood City Ledger 10k...A Virtual Sprint!!
So we were off...I tried to keep in mind some pre-race advice: "Run your own race, and better to start slow and finish strong."
These well-time words were really important as I notoriously start off too fast. And trust me I wanted to go fast, not only was I excited, but I was C-O-L-D! When I checked my GPS in the first half-mile I was running a 7:45. This was too fast, and I slowed it right down to 8:23 per mile...the BQ race-pace.
I tried to run a smart race. I knew that there was a pretty significant hill around mile 17 and I certainly wanted to conserve energy before I got to it, but I knew the hill was going to slow me down as I got a taste of a pretty large hill in the first two miles. So, I decided to allow myself to run a little faster than I had originally planned to put some time in the bank, so to speak. I tried to maintain between 8:18 and 8:23. This was totally manageable and I felt fantastic.
I was running well and I actually felt happy. The music on my iPod was perfect (thank you contributors!) I felt really good at the 10k mark, and aside from accidentally getting gatorade up my nose, things were going really well.
I breezed through the half-way point still feeling well, however irritated that the water station only had gatorade and no water. Also, there was no food at the half-way. I was expecting some hammer packs or at least a sliced banana. But no joy. So I just kept running.
Miles 14, 15 and 16 were still pretty good, I was running well and happy.
As predicted the hill at mile 17 reared it's head. I started it up it, optimistic, it was a long one but I could make it to the top and I put my head down and started thinking of my second motivational phrase, unbreakable....
Part 2 - Unbreakable...
...Or Unbreakable My Arse.....
So, I started up the hill, thinking over and over, unbreakable, en boco lupo, unbreakable, etc etc etc....and created a steady effort to make my way to the top. Just as I could see the crest, the course hooked right and runners were led up a dirt path. I thought, 'wow! Pay-dirt! we don't have to continue to the top. Ha! Hill? What hill?' Well, my friends, I spoke too soon. The path hooked right up a little pea-gravel road and I was faced with a virtual mountain. It didn't appear to be very long, but it was extremely steep. Unbreakable, I thought, and tried to mind my form and get myself up the 'hill' (read mountain) with short, quick steps.
Over all this time I had managed to stay on pace, and was still optmistic for a BQ. I new I had a little time in the bank and because of my 3 in 1 training I was determined to control the last 10ks of the race.
A sort of informal pace group had formed, and I had been running with a set of sisters that I affectionately referred to as Thing 1 and Thing 2, two chatty older gentlemen and another guy with a buzz cut wearing those icky 5-finger shoes.
Well, this hill (read mountain) busted the group up. Thing 1 pulled away from Thing 2 and 5-finger guy started walking as soon as he saw the mountain. The chatty Cathy's clammed up and tried to push through.
I also chose to persevere through the hill (read mountain), and despite my pace I was determined to keep running. I passed a guy who had succumbed to walking and he said "good job you got this."
I continued to run, but everyone in front of me was beginning to walk.
My legs were in serious pain. Literally, it was painful to run, my quads were screaming and my calves were beginning to ache too. The pea gravel was unstable beneath my feet and keeping my form steady was creating a lot of extra work for my body. I pulled up behind Thing 1 who had also decided to walk. I checked my garmin and decided, based on the pace, that it would be wiser for me to try to power-walk up this hill and conserve my muscles, I still have at least 8 miles to go!
So for the first time ever, I walked during a race. So much for Unbreakable.
I tried not to get too hung up on it, because I was trying to convince myself that it was for the greater good. Once I reached to top I picked the pace back up and hoped to relocate my pace as I coasted down the hill. My legs were so stiff, it was unreal how difficult it was to even run downhill. I noticed as I started to ascend the next hill that my downhill portion seeme awfully short. In fact, it was about half the size. My legs were screaming but once again I tried to continue to run up the hill. I tried to take short, quick steps, but my feet were sliding around on top of the pea-gravel and dust. It was causing my legs to cramp. Typically, I don't get cramps, but my right quadricep felt like it was completely twisted and my calves were both seriously cramping. It was so painful I couldn't believe it. I tried to stretch my calves out, no joy. I tried to alter my gait and foot strike, but that didn't help either. I was also determined not to stop running. At this point I had adopted a qualify or die trying mentality. I didn't care if my muscles tore right in half, I was going to keep running. Unfortunately, my pace was utterly shot and I just could not force my body to move faster. I couldn't wait to move downhill, little did I know that the downhill would be worse.
Thing 2 had caught back up to Thing 1 and they regained their paces and started zipping down the hill. I tried to follow suit, but pain exploded through my legs with every step. It was an utter nightmare. Again, I just tried to push myself down the hill, promising myself that the muscles would unseize and I could regain normal running. About half way down the hill the pain started to subside, and I was just finding a pace, it was about 18.5 miles and here, the race organizers put a water/food station. NO ONE used this water station. Literally. First, it was tucked up along a bank so you would have to run up a little slope to get to it. After trudging up the dueling mountains, no one wanted to go there. Second, everyone was just starting to regain a pace, it was not the time to introduce another disruption. Despite the fact that I was thirsty, I did not stop at this water station.
I saw Thing 1 and Thing 2 breeze down the hill and seemed like they were about 5 minutes ahead of me in an intant.
I was still in serious pain and every step was agony, but after running up those hills, I wasn't going to stop running.
I expected to start feeling bad around mile 20, but at mile 19 I was completly disgusted with the entire race, and was even in tears at one point. Totally pathetic. After being so optimistic, I can't believe those hills squashed me. At mile twenty, I just wanted to 'just get there.'
Part 3 - Just Get There
...Or...So much for controlling the last 10k of this race....
I really had plan to own this portion of the race. I trained for this, both mentally and physically and I was feeling pretty confident when I set off, but now I had to struggle. I made three goals when I set off, just to try to quell disappointment if I didn't BQ. So first, BQ; Second, Personal Record; Third, at least better than my last race. With this in mind, I left my hopes for a BQ on the second hill, but with 10ks still in front of me I was still hopeful for a PR, but I had to maintain at least a 9-minute mile, at that point I was about a 9:12 per mile, so I had to pick it up.
At this point, I was pretty pissed off and I just could not get my legs to move. They were so tight and I just couldn't get my body to move the way I wanted. I was mentally pushing myself, but I couldn't get my body to cooperate. I was so annoyed!
Tired and hungry, I grabbed a Hammer gel and some water at the next station. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted it was honey-lemony and I loved it! I wanted a whole handful of them so I could take them home and spread them on toast! A little happier I plodded on...the next two miles were pretty painful and I was having trouble maintaining my new pace. I was counting the steps until mile 24 where I could get a drink and hopefully some more of this yummy gel.
I went through the water station at mile 24, and the bumbling idiots had no water, only gatorade. I did not want to wash my gel down with gatorade. I tore the gel open only to find that it wasnt honey-lemony goodness but some icky, mocha-espresso abomination! It was disgusting, but I didn't dare spit it out, because i didn't want brown goo all over my nice running outfit.
The next two miles were basically hell, just after the water station I was still hopeful to PR. But I just couldn't maintain the pace no matter how hard I tried to convince my body to run faster it just wouldn't. I fell off the the 9-minute per mile pace and just couldn't pick it back up. I just could not get my body to move faster. I tried all kinds of tricks even resorted to pretending it was an Army Physical Fitness Test. As my PR slipped out of my reach it was all I could not to succumb to walking again. I was so depressed. It was even worse when I hooked a left turn toward the finish line into a lumpy field. It was really difficult to keep my footing and I completely lost interest in a PR or almost even finishing at all. I really, really wanted to walk.
But, I didn't and pushed through to the finish line in 4:02.
Massive. Massive. Disappointment.
It took forever for the volunteer to remove my timing chip and hand me my medal, which was totally lame.
An aside about the medal: First, it's a hand crafted medal made out of wood. It looks like kids in the highschool shop made it. That's not so bad, I know that this type of wood and craft is local to the area...but here is what made the medal lame: It said New River Marathon, Half-Marthon & 5k. Really? Really? New River? The 5k runners and the Marathon runners get the same medal? Bad form, New River. Blah.
I hobbled toward the car, because my legs were totally seizing up. Walking was difficult, standing was exruciating and sitting wasn't that great either.
Oh yeah. On top of everything else. I was crying. Yep. Full-on sobbing, alligator tears. Mostly tears of self-pity, loss, and a bit of pain. Totally humiliating.
My recovery was in short excruciating. I frankly have never been in so much pain. I had a quick massage at the finish. Stretched and tried to keep my system flushed with water. But if I sat for more than 15-20 minutes at a time my legs would completely lock up. I fidgeted all evening through dinner and a movie. I fidgeted all through the night and despite obvious exhaustion managed to get very little sleep. I fidgeted the whole 3-plus hour ride back to Fayetteville. Sunday evening I was still in bit of pain. Basically, I was miserable. I didn't feel like eating, and my muscles were just wrecked. Walking was still difficult and I couldn't get comfortable in bed, in fact, I had to take a sleep aid so I could rest. This, coupled with my sadness over my failure was pure misery.
I felt like I wasted the last 18-weeks. It was so difficult training in the German winter, the time I sacrificed, maintaining training during my move, maintaining training during my transition back to the U.S. and my new routines. Although I completed the race I felt I had very little to show for my effort and really had nothing to be proud of, even my medal was lame.
Looking back on the race. I really think it was those hills that ate my lunch. My program did include hill training, but I couldn't mimic what was on the course. I really don't think I started off too fast, I was hydrated enough and the weather was basically ideal. I just couldn't make my body conquer those hills fast enough.
I am still extremely disappointed that I didn't meet at least one of my goals. But I know that running the Boston Marathon is still in my future, so I'm on the hunt for another marathon, most likely in the Autumn, if my job cooperates. Suggestions?!
Before I even ran the New River Marathon I registered for the Fort Bragg Army Birthday 10-Miler. I was hoping that if things were to go awry, I would have a new race to look forward to, and if they didn't I wouldn't over-celebrate. Well, this race is tomorrow and I'm fairly ill-prepared. Since the New River Marathon there have been quite a few unforeseen changes in my life. Also, my job became quite busy and I find myself in a transition phase once again. Still feeling the sting of failure, more transition, upswing in my workload and oppressive North Carolina heat have drastically curbed my running. Although I've managed to log a few miles I haven't really done any of the speed work necessary to PR this race. Intially I was hopeful to run 75, but right now, that doesn't seem feasable. So we will see, but there is definitely more racing in my future and it looks like MeLLiSSa's Foot Notes is not yet defunct.
Oh and lest I forget my loyal run supporters. Thanks so much for everything! You know who you are!
Here's to better luck next time.....
In Summation: Failure=Sucks; Massive Hills=Soul Destroying; Boston Marathon=In my future; NC Heat=Oppressive; One Medal for All Races=Not Very Nice; My Friends=The Best Ever!; Faith in Mankind=Non-existent
Upcoming Races...
June Races:
Fort Bragg Army Birthday 10-Miler
July Races:
Ellwood City Ledger 10k...A Virtual Sprint!!
