Lesson 1: There is no such thing as an easy marathon.
Lesson 2: I am way too competitive.
Lesson 3: When the gun goes off at the start of a marathon you are lucky to retain 1/3 of your previous racing knowledge.
My race plan was to run easy for the first half (around a 9:00 minute per mile pace) and then drop down into a slightly faster speed to see how much time I could take off in the second half. And because this would be my first marathon in over two years, I had three (seemingly) conservative goals: 1. Finish the race; 2. Finish under 4 hours; 3. Finish under 3 hours and 45 minutes. Even though I have only been back training since the beginning of December, I felt all the goals were doable. Heck, I'd run tons faster than that in the past, why not now if I just put some effort into it? With all that in mind, I lined up a little in front of the 9:00 minute pace group and waited for the start.
And then the gun went off and all bets were off. Luckily, one of the main reasons I was running Houston almost completely unprepared was to remember how to run a marathon and re-learn all the mistakes I thought I had learned in past races but had probably now forgotten. And relearn mistakes I did, in spades. Mistake 1: starting too fast. With the excitement of a race and surges of adrenaline, 'comfortable pace' takes on an entirely new meaning. Instead of 9:00 minutes per mile, I found myself settled in at an 8:15 pace by the 5k marker. Even as I mentally chastised myself for the rush I discovered it was nearly impossible to physically slow myself down. So - Mistake 2 - I went with it, figuring I'd see where it would take me. (I'll stop numbering mistakes now, there really were too many to count.)
And so the first half went. I managed to bring the pace down a little, averaging 8:30 by the half marker, but it was not the easy run it was suppose to be. Somewhere right after the half I totally zoned out . . . next thing I knew it was mile 17 and I'm not feeling so good any more. My legs were screaming, my pace was faltering, and I new things were about to get bad. Real bad. (How come we can easily remember the bad when it is often so difficult to remember the good?)
And then the wheels came off completely. There's really no way to explain a marathon blow-out to someone who hasn't run a marathon, but it's not a pretty sight. Apparently, 8:15-8:30 paces are only comfortable at my current level of training for about 13 miles - and I had pushed way past that line. Unfortunately, as so often happens, this physical fail was compounded by an equally painful mental double whammy. (1) I knew I had done this to myself and run a horribly stupid race plan on seriously under-trained legs, and (2) I knew that I'd made the final turn and the last 6-ish miles were an excruciatingly straight shot back into down-town lined with almost a hundred thousand spectators that would probably see me break down in tears at some point (surprisingly did not happen).
It was too much and for the first time in the race I stopped to walk - it would not however be the last. Somewhere in these miles I noticed the 3:50 pace group pass me. I fell into a run/walk pattern that was meant to do nothing more than get me to the finish line. It was not my best moment and it was definitely ripe with dark thoughts and mental self-flagellation for all the bad decisions I'd made to get to this miserable point in the race. But it wasn't over yet, and no matter how deep my mind tried to pull me into myself I've never bailed in the middle of a marathon and I wasn't about to start. (While legs don't stay trained our minds do, and I'd been here before in races and was prepared to deal with the mental pain.)
Then finally, I came under an overpass and was back downtown with a mile to go. And in a brief moment of inspiration (or possibly in full-blown fear of the 4-hour pace group that I knew must be breathing down my neck) I picked the next runner to pass me and locked onto their pace. Once I got going again there was nothing that was going to stop me from crossing the finish line, especially as I came around the final corner and saw the finish line clock reading 3:59:15. That was all it took - I was off like a rocket. Turns out it was an unnecessary final effort, my official time was 3:56:31 (goal #1 and #2 achieved).
In the meantime, I'm finally enjoying running again. Even this weekend's miserable event was ridiculously fun in its own way. Pushing yourself to the limit and not breaking completely is a reward with serious benefits. To quote a sign that was all over the course yesterday: "Tough times end; tough people survive." Congratulations to everyone who pushed themselves this weekend in Houston; regardless of the outcome we all won.
1 comments:
Nice job finishing what you started. I cannot believe you got sucked into starting too fast. Sucker. Good luck with your training. Let's get some more runs in.
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