One Tough Day Makes You Think

Coming back to running after taking off to focus on graduate school, I’ve had a different and changing perspective on my performance and my fitness.  Since getting more serious last May in preparation for what ended up being a mediocre Portland marathon experience, I’ve tried to approach running with more confidence and positivity than I had back in the days of living in Boston.  The situation was totally different than it is now – I was unemployed, living fairly well off government benefits, running close to 70 miles a week and had made most of friends through Community Running.  Since moving to Seattle, training has been less convenient, and has taken a little bit of time to adjust to (more on that in a later post). Like I said, I try to view my running with a different attitude these days – one of positivity mixed with a near blind faith that I’m bringing my fitness back to what it was a few years ago when it seemed like I had all the time in the world on my hands and nothing to do but enjoy the road I was running on, even in the snow, even past sunset.  

It’s always great – it’s always an affirmation that you’re doing something right when the miles seem to just click away, or workouts go really well.  It’s easy to be confident going into a race when nothing has gone poorly yet.  But with one’s enthusiasm to stay optimistic sometimes comes doubt and overeagerness.

Today was just not my day.  Some runners I train with in Seattle – a group called ChuckIt Running – went up north to a town called Mount Vernon in Washington to race a half marathon.  The course was mostly in the rural parts of town – the farm land was flat, though going into and out of the downtown area involved hills.  I viewed Nookachamps as a run to gauge my starting fitness for a training cycle that will pear at the Eugene Marathon the last weekend in April.  In many ways it reminded me of the Boston Prep 16 Miler I had done three years ago – relatively hilly, cold and far enough from my race that I could evaluate where I was and what I had to do.  I thought I had it in me to run 7 minute pace and even get under 1:31 for the first time.  My tempos ont he treadmill were going well; my mileage build up was high and tough; my consistency was coming back.  

Not knowing the course, however, the first two miles (the second one especially) were an agressive downhill that didn’t fit well into my plans.  My legs, which had been tight, didn’t handle the descent as well as I thought they could.  My shoes, which I had worn once the week before on a long 18 miler felt stiff, and I didn’t warm up because I thought I could sufficiently stretch and wanted to avoid the rain, which was coming in waves of varying strength.  My cardio was completely fine, but every step I took landed flat – and hurt.  I thought I could ease up and warm up, but it didn’t happen and at the third mile I had to weighed the options of continuing on (and possibly blowing out my shins) or stopping and stretching.

I chose to stop, and with that decision, I had dropped my expectations of what the race would be about.  I pulled up to a guard rail along an overpass which we crossed, tried to force my shins to relax by stretching up against it, and picked it back up again, tentatively.  That third mile took nearly 9 minutes.  After I stopped, I tried to play it conservatively, in the back of my mind hoping that I could catch some of the people I let go, but refusing to look at my watch in fear that my disappointment would get the better of me.  I wanted to get my splits down, but was also afraid that my shins wouldn’t cooperate, and relaxed a little.  I would end up running most of the rest of the race by myself, my pace a little quicker than those who I had come by while I stretched.

The middle six miles of the race were relatively flat, along curving country roads.  The stretching seemed to help, and as I slowly, slowly, SLOWLY began to warm up, I began pulling myself together to bring my pace down.  I hit negative splits until the the climb back for the elevation I lost at mile 11, and I was never passed after having picked back up.  Here are my splits. 

1. 7:03
2. 7:23
3. 8:46
4. 7:44
5. 7:35
6. 7:33
7. 7:33
8. 7:08
9. 7:08
10. 7:03
11. 7:55
12. 7:36
13. 7:15 + 1:14

My final average pace was 7:35, and my final time was 1:38:57 on my watch.  I’m disappointed that I couldn’t race for a PR today, but I realize that some days its just not in the cards.  The tough first few miles taught me – or perhaps reminded me – that I need to warm up regardless of the weather outside.  It was humbling to confidently declare that I would break 1:31 only run a pace over 35 seconds what I had hoped.  

I’m still trying to be positive about my run by looking at it as a solid training run that I wouldn’t have done otherwise.  I take solace in knowing that I was getting faster as the run went on, except for the hilly last couple of miles.  The first 6.5 miles and second 6.5 miles had a 2 minute negative split: 49:51/47:52, and I think it’s shows I’m thinking to have stopped and stretched rather than kept slogging out slow and painful miles.  I also take it as a positive that I wanted more road to cover.  As I said, I hadn’t been passed after I had stopped and stretched and I had been accelerating at the finish; I wish I had those first three miles back at the end to pull myself back even more.

I’m choosing to remain positive about the run today, but even this is mixed with doubt.  Am I just fooling myself and not addressing the issues I should be looking at?  Would it be better to have more emotional investment in the activity; would that help me look at each race honestly or drive my training better?  Am I building too much too fast?  I have 15 weeks until Eugene, and I think that to perform to my best on that day I will need to evaluate my attitude and find a balance between positivity and investment.