Since my last post about a month
ago the weather has warmed up a bit and I headed into my final weeks of half
marathon training! I was having some twinginess in the same area of my leg that
I had last year and that ultimately made me decide to not run last year’s
Binghamton Bridge Run half. I took a week off to compulsively pop Advil and ice
my leg in an effort to get it feeling better. It seemed to work, and I decided
that the Fly Creek Cider Run 10k would be my test to see if I was a go for the
half marathon two weeks later.
I had also missed the Fly Creek run
last year because of the injury. BRF had declared it insanely hilly, but being
the fat headed and overconfident hill lover that I am, I wasn’t worried. We met
at the Cider Mill and grabbed our bibs and warmed up. Another running friend
declared that it was WAY worse than the Pit Run, which I found hard to believe.
My plan for the race was to start out easy and get good and warmed up before
kicking it up a notch. I wanted to test my leg, not hurt it. It was a cloudy
and chilly day and BRF and I tried to keep warm while we waited for the start
of the race.
When we got started I managed to
stick to my game plan of starting slowly for about three quarters of a mile. As
we started to climb the first small hill, however, I saw an opportunity to pass
runners and I took it. I pride myself on decent hill-climbing and I really
revel in the feeling of going by people as they struggle on the hills! I don’t
know what it is--they just don’t seem to wipe me out the way they do to other
runners. At any rate, I was feeling peppy and took my first mile from a 10:37
to a 9:33. As the course progressed there were some decent rolling hills. As I
was coming down the third hill I was thinking that my friends had definitely
exaggerated the severity of the hills. Sure, there were three hills back to
back to back but they were rolling and not huge.
The view was incredible and looked
out over a hillside to the mountains beyond. Just as I was thinking this run
would be a piece of cake I looked up and noticed the huge hill that curved up
to my left. I immediately reassessed the difficulty of the course. This hill
was as big as the one in the Pit Run, and I had already climbed three good size
hills! I passed a few more people heading up and was still feeling fairly
cocky. Until I started to come down the backside of the hill and noticed a
runner speeding toward me. I realized with a start that this course was, at
least partially, an out and back! This was the lead runner who must have
already reached the turnaround and was coming back over that huge hill. That
meant that at some point I would have to turn around and do this hill again!
This realization was compounded by my notice of another large hill in front of
me. Holy. Freaking. Cow. This course was insane.
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| Here is the elevation for the Cider Run 10k |
I reached the turnaround and set to
the task of navigating those two really big hills again. Thankfully, before
reaching the series of three rolling hills, the course turned off in a
different direction. The marshal informed me that it was all downhill from there.
And he was truthful, mostly. I let it fly down the hills—a skill I have been
trying to improve, but could still use some work. I came in at 57:36. I was
really happy with the performance given my tetchy leg and the very hilly
course. I finished 4th in my group, too. I also got to enjoy a
delicious hard cider after the race and some cheese curd for the ride home!
I was feeling pretty pleased with
myself and confident my leg would be able to manage the half distance. The day
after the Cider Run was beautiful and sunny and I had a couple of hours to kill
in the morning. I decided to take advantage of the conditions and head out on
my bike. I did about 14 miles riding out to the next town and back. The route
is a bit hilly and I was feeling up to a challenge so I rode hard. I came home
and we did some work in the yard and I collapsed into bed that evening. And
then my leg started to hurt. And it hurt the next day and the next. It seems
that between the race on Saturday and the hard ride on Sunday I had overdone it
a bit. Long story short, the soreness persisted and I had to further cut back
my mileage.
My hopes for the half were
completely stomped on. I went back and forth on whether I could even run it. I
was getting desperate so I tried an ultrasound treatment (which actually helped)
and KT Tape (which I, to my surprise, would highly recommend). I spent the
whole week leading up to the half imagining the irreversible injury I would
inflict on myself by running. I played and replayed scenes in my head of having
to get on the medical cart and ride back to the start line. I lost a lot of
sleep and felt completely unprepared. Nevertheless, I decided I was going to do
the run. I was completely undertrained—I had run 8 miles about 4 weeks before
the race and I was struggling to run 13 miles a week, no less in one shot. But I
would start slow and walk if I needed. But I wanted to try and finish!
I actually managed to fall asleep
the night before the race (and sleep until my alarm went off at 4:15). I think
by that point I was feeling so defeated that I didn’t even care. This is very
unlike me, to be honest. I tend to be super excited for races, but this one I
was just plain dreading. The forecast was for rain and about 45 degrees. I
figured I would spend the morning cold and wet and frustrated and very possibly
hurt. BRF and her daughter met at our house and we all piled into the car—wife was
amazing and had offered to drive and cheer us on!
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| Before the race began! |
We arrived at the race with plenty
of time so we picked up our bibs and sat in the relative warmth of the car for
a bit. Then we got ready and warmed up. We ran into another friend and chatted
for a few—he is a veteran half marathon runner and he offered us some
encouragement. When the time came we lined up and about 2 minutes later the
horn sounded: we were off! (You can see us go by at the end of the short video below).
I had decided I would start at
10:30-11:00 minute miles. I figured this was an easy enough pace to let me get a
sense of how my leg was feeling. And my leg felt really good. Not sore at all.
I logged a 10:27 first mile and then sped up just a tad. I popped in my
headphones for a bit of a distraction and then I clocked two more miles at just
about 10:05. I became a little overwhelmed with the enormity of having
completed a 5k and still having 10 miles to go. But there were crowds lining
this section of the race and it had begun to drizzle so I took my ear buds back
out. Around this point I saw my wife and BRF’s daughter cheering me on and felt
a boost! I stayed in the 9:50s for the next three miles. At this point I had a
10k done and was approaching the halfway point. I was feeling good and steadily
moving past other runners. I felt strong, I wasn’t sore, and the drizzle had
stopped and it was really good running temperature.
At this point I decided to pick up
the pace a little bit. I dropped into the upper 9:30s and low 9:40s. I figured
if I could maintain this pace through the ten mile mark maybe I could turn it
up in the last three miles. In case you haven’t noticed, running instills a
somewhat unrealistic confidence in me. In spite of barely training and fighting
a leg injury for the last month, I had fantasies of coming in strong on this
race. I managed to keep up the pace and even tackled the biggest hill on the
course in the 9th mile. As I crossed the 10 mile mark, however, I
started to flag. What at mile six seemed like just the final 5k now felt like a huge challenge. I was breathing
hard and having to focus on my every step. Each time my attention wavered I
could feel my pace decline. I kept looking back at my watch and having to
readjust. The last few miles also felt hilly. Nothing dramatic, but each small
increase in elevation felt so hard. I ran a 9:30 for my 11th mile
but followed that up with a 9:43 and a 9:55. As I was running the last two
miles I actually kept closing my eyes. I was so tired I would run for ten or
twelve strides with my eyes closed and then jerk them open again. At this point
I knew I should have had more fuel (I ate some gummy bears between miles 5 and
6 and then a Gu at mile 8 but I just couldn’t stand the thought of eating
anything more) but it was too late. I grabbed a Gatorade at the last water stop
and took a sip.
I couldn’t see the finish line and
was starting to panic. Was my watch wrong? Did I have another mile? Did I mess
up the distance of a half? To say I was confused and foggy is an understatement.
Finally, I came around a turn and realized that the finish line was at the
bottom of the short hill in front of me. At this point I found just a little
extra energy and sprinted—at least it felt like sprinting—toward the finish. I
crossed and immediately doubled over. A woman put a finisher’s medal over my
head and around my neck and I staggered. I actually staggered. I have felt like
I might vomit at the end of a race before, but I have never nearly collapsed.
For a moment I wasn’t sure if I could stand up straight and someone asked me if
I was okay. I managed to straighten up and I was slightly less shaky. Wife came
out of nowhere and hugged me hard. I felt so relieved and happy and
accomplished and good.
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| My end of race grimace... |
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| In two parts. |
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| That's me, in the white, crossing the finish line! |
I told wife that I needed food and
I limped over to the food tent with her in tow. I grabbed a granola bar and
half a bagel and peanut butter and some Gatorade. I went and found wife and she
was waiting in line so I could have my picture taken with my finishing time…
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| Half-hearted effort at flexing. |
2:10:00 on the nose. I could not
believe it. This was my A goal. Even before the injury and my lack of training.
I had done it. Barely. But it felt amazing. We then headed back to the finish
line to find BRF and cheer her on!
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| I ran the last little bit with BRF--limped, really. |
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| After the race! |
The ride home went fast and I spent
most of the rest of the day being waited on. I was sore, but not unbearably so.
Honestly, the worst part was that my stomach was upset all afternoon. I had a
hard time eating but felt hungry. I had stomach cramps and just generally felt
yucky. I had planned on a celebratory drink, but that was not going to happen.
Finally, after a fairly bland dinner, I started to feel a little better. I don’t
know if it was the exertion, or dehydration, or just lack of calories, but that
was the least pleasant thing about my post-race experience. I passed out at
about 8:30 that night and slept straight through until the morning. I feared a
lot of stiffness but I was only a little sore. My muscles were definitely
tired, but nothing too alarming. I was able to get that celebratory beer Monday night with BRF!!!
