See Sarah Run

I haven’t been racing a lot so I’ve kind of fallen off the blogging bandwagon, but I sure have been running. Today’s workout was 9 miles total, 2 warm-up, 6 at aerobic threshold pace (8:15-8:30), 1 mile cool down. I usually run alone Thursdays and I almost always run an out-and-back course past Wadsworth State Park. That route is “flat” by Middletown standards with the exception of a significant hill at about the 2.5 mile mark. At that point the course descends by 100 feet over half a mile and then goes back up again, 100 feet, over the next half mile. On my last few runs, I have “beaten the hill” which in my mind, means, I held pace going up. Using gravity on the way down is fair game!

Today though, I felt pretty tired from the start. I’m running higher weekly mileage than I ever have before. The kids started school today and I leave for a work trip this afternoon. My head is crammed with Girl Scout schedules, lists of school supplies, and a big dose of melancholy that summer is ending no matter how tightly I try to cling to it. This is not a great recipe for running success. By the turnaround point, I was seriously losing heart. Coach Mick says, set yourself up for success, so I went ahead and had my “emergency” Gu, in case the sugar and caffeine boost did the trick. But they didn’t and I still felt myself fading, even wondering briefly if I should just call the Incredible Mervus and have him come pick me up.

Instead I remembered something HPRM#1 told me earlier this week. He says, you have to learn to love the bomb. It’s a reference to comedians. They know they are going to go onstage and bomb. Their jokes will fall flat, the audience won’t laugh, it will be incredibly uncomfortable. A good comedian isn’t just unafraid of the bomb. She learns to love it. To embrace the feeling of teetering on the edge of failure and even the plummeting downward as she reaches the edge of her capabilities. So I didn’t call Mervus for a pick-up. I didn’t phone it in by jogging the rest of the way home. Instead I just went for it. A couple of Lady Gaga songs came on my iPod shuffle and I thought, there’s a woman who surely loves the bomb or she could never sing like she does. I chanted “Love the bomb, love the bomb, love the bomb!” and I ran up the hill without checking my pace.

The next part of the story should be that I got to the top of the hill and my split was 8:30 after all, but that’s not how it goes. Instead, I kept running and I finally started to feel better. Love the bomb, love the bomb. Run hard, even when you aren’t going to make your goal, even enjoy the miss if that’s what happens. Finally that fifth aerobic threshold mile clicked off, 8:48, no beating the hill today, but I didn’t care anymore. I put Lady Gaga on repeat and kept right on going. Last mile before cool down: 8:23, back on pace. Of course I was happy about that but it didn’t really matter. I stayed tough when it got tough. That’s what counts.

Boilermaker is the essence of summer distilled into a few hours on the second Sunday in July. The race itself – 9.3 hot and hilly miles through Utica, NY – features an elite field, top-notch organization, and the best post-race party I’ve ever been to. Fabulous music, as much beer as you care to drink, and a crowd of happy, sweaty friends or soon-to-be friends. If you’ve never run this race, you should check it out. 2019 was my second time and I’m already making plans for 2020.

At 15K, it’s questionable whether I should even count the Boilermaker as part of the Short Distance Spaghetti Project, but I definitely wanted to run it again. Last year I finished in 1:18:16, which was good for 36^th place in my age group. That really surprised me! This year, I decided to aim for a top 10 finish. My analysis of past results revealed that a 1:14:00 finish time would probably land me in the top 10 and Coach Mick thought that sounded reasonable. (Spoiler alert – didn’t happen!)

In the week leading up to the race, I felt pretty good. I had an excellent long run with Teacher Runner and did some solid tempo intervals with Pokey. I had moved on from the debacle that was the Westfield 10K. Late in the week I had a mental stumble where I fell into the comparison trap – I should know better than that! I let it take the wind out of my sails a bit, which is too bad. But by Saturday I was largely back on track. I was meeting Glitter-Mom in Albany and we had a fabulous dinner out. Boilermaker is supposed to be about summer fun! I needed to stop “squeezing the soap” – Coach Mick’s term for trying too hard at a race.

Like last year, we stayed at Nicky’s house, though she was unfortunately out of town. We missed you Nicky! Also like last year, we took the Hudson Mohawk Road Runners bus to the race. Aside from the insanely early start it requires, the bus is a great system. Unfortunately, when we arrived in Utica, I left my Mighty MP3 player on the bus. Forgetting my music or having it malfunction has been a long-time worry. I know lots of people think music is a crutch and it probably is, but hey, if it helps, I’m all for it. Even a year ago this mistake might have caused me major panic, but on this day, I reminded myself of something Coach Mick sometimes asks: What-Would-Deena-Do? Meaning, how would Deena Kastor flip this negative turn of events into a potential positive? I decided it was a good chance to experiment with racing without music and see how it went.

Glitter-Mom and I dropped our gear bag and found the Sub-30 friends we were meeting. Even the pre-race scene at Boilermaker is somehow extra fun! I warmed up the same place as last year, along the highway bridge. When it was time to line up, I pushed myself to about the 10^th row of the corral, which seemed right. The beginning of the race is really congested so being closer to the front is a big advantage. The race was delayed and I ended up chatting to the woman next to me. Boilermaker might be the friendliest race I’ve ever been to. Did I mention it’s like summer in a bottle?

Right before the start, I took my tank top off. I realize that might seem like nothing to some people but like the lack of music, it was kind of a big deal to me. I’ve certainly never raced in just a sports bra before. Until last summer, I’d never even run in just a sports bra. Despite my claims to the contrary, I was probably worried about body image stuff. But for me, racing in a sports bra is also just straight-up image-image stuff. Like, who does that? Just the fast people. Therefore, not me. Sports bras at a race are for young skinny girls with blonde ponytails. But, the sports bra police didn’t show up to remove this 50 year old with the curly brown ponytail so I guess I got away with it. It was 70 degrees at the start with 80% humidity so I thought it was worth the risk of arrest.

Boilermaker is a hilly course, one of the reasons I like it. Strava says it has an elevation gain of 482 feet, but it’s how the hills are distributed that make the race interesting and fun. The first three miles are steady uphill and mile four has almost 100 feet of gain. But mile five – mile five drops 200 feet! Then it’s up a medium-sized hill to mile 7, and back down and up a small hill to mile 9 and downhill into the finish. Coach Mick worked up a plan for an 8:15 average over the first four miles, then two miles at 7:30, one at 8:00, gun it to the finish.

That was the plan, and I ran pretty close to it, but alas, slower than hoped. The first four mile splits were: 8:30, 8:24, 8:32, 8:40. It was congested, especially at the beginning, but more than anything, it was warm. By the third mile I was feeling pretty good, but at the end of that mile, BAM! the hill starts and it’s no joke. Mile four is a big sweeping curve through a golf course so you can see the hill laid out in front of you in all its glory. I had been practicing positive affirmations all week by telling myself “I am good at running uphill.” I had also been running up the biggest hill near my house a few times each week. The hill didn’t feel too bad, but I was slower than I would have liked. I was only a couple miles into a hot and hilly race and the effort level to hold 8:15 felt like it might be too much. I also remembered the panicked feeling at the Westfield 10K. I definitely didn’t want a repeat of that. I knew even if I lost a whole minute of time, I still had a decent chance at a top 10 age group finish. But my time at the four-mile mark was already 90 seconds behind schedule. I decided to stop looking at my watch and run the rest of the race by feel, hoping the lack of information would keep me from getting too discouraged. I can’t help wondering what would have happened if I had stuck to the original race plan. Would I have blown up or would I have been fine, and faster? No way to find out.

Down the hill! If I didn’t feel quite the manic joy of last year, it was still pretty amazing. When I was trying to stop squeezing the soap before the race, I told Coach Mick I was going to try to chase a feeling, not a time. This was the mile to enjoy the feeling of flight that comes with a 200 foot drop! But then at the end of mile 5, things got somewhat less cheery. Mile 6 is still a good descent but coming off the big hill, it felt harder than I expected. The sun came out from behind the clouds and I started thinking about how much of the race was left. It felt like a lot. Splits for miles 5 and 6: 7:16, 7:58.

Mile 7 was much worse, just a slog. Maybe having music would have helped. Maybe looking at my watch would have snapped me out of my lethargy, but it might also have been discouraging. We had full sun by now and this part of the course is just ugly. It’s some kind of industrial neighborhood and you run on highway overpasses. It’s notably yucky and it went on a lot longer than I remembered. By now I was throwing ice down my sports bra and dumping water on my head at every water stop. I had had about half a Maurten at the top of the hill and I had a second half of one somewhere in here. I’m not sure I needed the fuel, but it’s just habit and that amount felt right. I generally think I manage racing in the heat pretty well and good grief, I’ve had plenty of practice. I know to use the ice and water and I’ve never become dehydrated (knock wood). I figure if it’s hot for me, it’s hot for everyone, so I don’t tend to let it get in my head too much. But I really just lost focus here and if I got a do-over, I would run this part of the race differently for sure. Mile 7: 8:39 pace. The plan was for 8:00. Ouch. Thankfully I still wasn’t looking at my watch so I didn’t see that until later.

Luckily, as I was nearing the end of mile 7, the 80-minute pacer came up behind me and that snapped me out of my slog. No way was I going to run slower than 1:20! I was 1:18 and change last year! I told myself, Girlfriend, I know you think you are running as fast as you can, but you really HAVE to find another gear and you have to find it RIGHT NOW. I knew there was some chance the pacer was ahead of her goal but I didn’t ask – I just took off. Luckily the next downhill started at the end of mile 7 and I figured I had 2.3 miles to put as much time between me and that pacer as possible. Sometimes at the end of a race, I will put a favorite song on repeat, but without my music I just counted and counted and counted. Yes, it’s downhill, but I also woke up. Splits for miles 8 and 9: 7:39, 8:06.

I went and found her afterwards to say thank you!

With about .3 to go, the woman I had been chatting with at the start came up behind me. She had on a blue singlet and had a long blonde ponytail. I had passed and been passed by her a couple of times on the course and I decided I was going to race her to the finish. She copped onto my plan right away and we both ran like crazy! But I beat her! I found her after the race and said thanks. We were both psyched about our strong finish! Last .3 miles at 7:13 pace.

I ended the race the way I always do, collapsing onto something in my general vicinity. This time it was a friendly volunteer. I tried to explain that this routine is normal for me, but perhaps I should start carrying a card to explain. Boilermaker gives you a pin rather than a medal, which is either cool and unique or sort of cheapskate-y, depending on your perspective. I collected my pin and some water and flopped on the grass to chat with Coach Mick while I waited for Glitter-Mom to finish.

Sub-30 shows off their pins

I’m an analyser or an over-thinker, depending on your point of view, I suppose. In the days since the race, I’ve thought a lot about two moments during the race: the conscious decision to run more conservatively than planned during the first four miles and the mental lapse during mile 7. But I think two other moments might be more important. The loss and then partial-recovery of confidence prior to the race and the chase after the feeling of exhilaration as I ran down the hill. I sometimes write a mantra on my arm with a Sharpie and for Boilermaker I wrote “#extraordinary”. To me, #extraordinary is about two things: that feeling of flight that sometimes comes from fast running and the feeling of achievement that a high age group placing in a big nationally-known race would bring me. It’s about a relatively new image of myself as a 50 year old woman who can run pretty fast and the feelings that go along with that. Extraordinary is a good weapon against imposter syndrome. Maybe extraordinary and ridiculous are sort of the same thing, just depending on which direction you tip it, and I want to tip toward extraordinary. My finish time was 1:16:28, by the way, good for 16/380 in my age group. Those are the numbers – not top 10, but not half bad.

Those are kind of Deep Thoughts for a race that is supposed to be about summer fun. Rest assured, a lot of post-race fun was had! It’s the only race I’ve ever been to where the volunteers serving beer insisted that you take two cups! The sunshine that was a little warm while running felt spectacular afterwards. Spending time with new and old Sub-30 friends is always a delight. If my schedule allows, I’ll be back next year to run down that hill and try again to snag a top 10 spot.

Not every race is going to go according to plan.

If you never fail, you’re not looking hard enough for the edge of what you can accomplish.

I’m experimenting and not every experiment has the expected result.

Sure, those things are true. A disappointing race is still a disappointment. I was hoping on a very excellent day to run just under 47 minutes at the Westfield 10K in Westfield, Massachusetts. I ran 47:55, which is officially a PR, except the course was short, I suspect a good bit short. My “former” PR is 48:00 which I will probably just keep as my official PR because at least it was on a legitimate course. I also got first in my age group for the first time ever, a goal I’ve been chasing for awhile. I’m trying to be happy about that result, but I’m disappointed in how I ran so it’s a struggle. I would have quite liked a hat or a pint glass or another plaque, but instead? My prize is free entry to next year’s race! I’m not sure if I’ll want to come back for revenge or if I’m done with Westfield for a few years.

Westfield is sponsored by the Olesek Lumber Company so it at least has cool medals!

When Coach Mick and I talked about my running some shorter stuff between Boston and Boilermaker, we both liked the idea of finding some 10Ks. I know a lot of elite marathoners have moved up from the 10K and the two distances seem to have some things in common though I am still figuring out what. My hatred for the 5K is also well known and I thought maybe the 10K would be less bad. I found this one in western Massachusetts, not far from where Mervus’s parents live. It’s a flat course, which is good, because I was hoping for a fast time. The June 22^nd date was pretty late so I knew it might get warm, but there weren’t any other 10Ks that fit my schedule. The Retiree kindly volunteered to pace me and it was game on for Westfield!

I’ve been treating the Short Distance Spaghetti Project as a crash course in shorter races – shorter for me at least – and I’m learning a lot, which is my main goal. As race day approached, the Retiree wanted to know what the race plan was and to save everyone time, he linked HPRM#1 into the conversation. They “suggested” that the Retiree wear my watch, working off the premise that I can run faster than I think I can. Seeing splits on the watch that I perceive as “fast” might push my brain into freak-out mode and cause me to slow down. I had had a good race with HPRM#1 wearing my watch at the Bunny Rock 5K way back in March 2018 so I agreed. But we all wanted some advice from Coach Mick about what time to target. He knew I wanted to beat my PR of 48:00 and said he thought 47:30 was reasonable. I’m very lucky that HPRM#1 and the Retiree share a quite ambitious vision of my running and they wondered if we might push that closer to 47:00 or even a tad below. Coach Mick agreed that that wasn’t crazy, on a good day, so we shifted the goal to 47:00, or maybe 46:59.

One thing that I’ve found useful at the shorter distances is a series of mental cues to help me refuse the deal and to break the race into pieces. I had done that for Delaney Dash and Run for the Pies and it had worked so I wanted to use that strategy again. The day before the race, Coach Mick noted that in a podcast we both listened to, they talked about the decision at the two-mile mark of a 5K to either ease off or double down. He told me that’s the four-mile mark of the 10K and that I should double down. “Double down!” I couldn’t ask for a better cue that that. We had also noted in passing that if things went exceptionally well at Westfield, Coach Mick would adjust my training paces for Chicago. But just like Jack Daniels says, faster training paces have to be earned – so, the last mental cue was to be “earn it.”

I still needed a couple more ideas and luckily Coach Mick is brilliant at this sort of thing. When I asked for cues for early in the race, he said I was ready, mentally and physically, so “ready” became cue #1. He also said, 10Ks are hard to find. I needed to take advantage of today’s race because I wouldn’t get another chance for quite some time – “today” was cue #2. The middle of the race still felt a little empty though. I abbreviate two groups of running friends as the FBs and the FFs. A new group has formed and we are calling ourselves the FFFs. Coach Mick texted me to run #fearless. One goal for the race was to be First in my age group. That’s a lot of Fs and “F” became the middle cue. I went to sleep Friday night going over the sequence in my mind: Ready-Today-F-Double Down-Earn It. Maybe too complicated? But pretty good. In any case, that’s what I came up with.

Professor Badass Support Crew

I arrived at the race shortly after 8am and went and grabbed my bib and race shirt. It was a bit warmer than desirable but the humidity we’d been dealing with all week had finally dropped. I felt quite good on my warm-up run, but by the end of a mile and a half, I was sweating, not a great sign. I got back to the car, did a few drills, and found the Retiree and my family.

Manchester Running Company friends plus Rose, professional photo bomber

The Retiree and I had settled on the arrangement whereby he had my watch, but I kept my music. I ended up caring a lot about this race and as much as I tried to stay calm, I felt pretty nervous. You’re excited, I told myself, that’s fine. But I could feel the adrenaline surging. Calm down, I said, and I could feel my heart rate and my breathing settle a bit. Dumping a bunch of adrenaline into your system isn’t a great way to start a race, at least not for me, so I tried to chill out and relax. We sent my family off to spectate and the Retiree and I lined up at the start. We got recognized by a friend from Sub-30! I wish we’d had a phone on us so we could have taken a picture!

The first mile felt incredibly easy. Without my watch, I didn’t know how fast we were going, but I knew the plan was around 7:50-7:55. We could have been running 8:30 with how good I felt, but I stuck with the Retiree. After all, the point of having a pacer is to let him do the work. You’re ready, I told myself, you’re ready for this race. And also: Calm – that would have been a good first mile word as well. This strategy worked and I could feel myself settle down and feel the pace better. It was warm, but the first mile marker came up pretty quickly – no clock, however, so I had no idea of the time. One down, five to go. [Actual first split: 7:36]

The Retiree was giving me great instructions about tangents and staying close to him. He also noted that the second mile is the biggest hill on the course, but that we’d get up it and settle. He asked if I wanted him to talk and he started telling a story, but that wasn’t working for me. I said something like “Today – it’s today!” referring to my mental cue, but that wasn’t doing a lot either. Too much chatter when I preferred to focus. The hill was pretty serious and about halfway up it, I started having to work harder. The shift in necessary effort came on pretty quickly and I started to get worried. If we were a mile and a half into this, we still had four and a half miles to go. By the top of the hill, I was breathing more seriously and the Retiree said, it’s ok, just settle, catch your breath, we’re up the hill. [Second mile split: 7:52]

But somewhere around the second mile marker, my brain just panicked and I started walking. Walking! What? I can’t remember the last time I walked in a race. Yet here I was in a race I cared quite a lot about walking with more than two thirds of the distance yet to go. I didn’t quite understand what was going on at the time and I don’t quite get it now either. I think I yelled something incoherent at the Retiree along the lines of “I can’t do this – please don’t let me stop!” Maybe also a whole lot of Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He asked me what was hurting and I said “Everything, but I just can’t breathe!” He turned around and of course I started running again. But I am starting to wonder if after you walk once in a race, the damage is done and your brain thinks it’s ok because more walking was yet to come.

The next section of the course is a long out-and-back and all I could think about was how far it looked and when were we ever going to see the turnaround. There was a water stop in there somewhere, but the Retiree was carrying water for me so I dumped the water stop water on my head to try to cool off. There was no ignoring the heat – it was only about 70 degrees, but full sun so it felt much hotter than that. The heat actually felt significantly worse than at Run for the Pies, which I guess shows how much damage the sun can do.

During the third mile, the slowest of the race, I felt truly awful. Coach Mick had talked about how out-and-backs are kind of fun because you see the other runners, but it seemed like forever before we saw anyone and that just made the whole stretch feel longer. It wasn’t hilly. It was just terrible. I walked again, while more or less simultaneously telling the Retiree that I was dying and begging him to not let me stop running. I tried to think about “F” and maybe more than anything “F” is for friends. I am blessed with so many wonderful running friends and I felt like I was letting them down, but there didn’t seem to be much I could do about it. Or, to put it more accurately, I couldn’t figure out what to do about it. Maybe the mental cues just don’t always work. Maybe we ran too fast for my ability early on. Maybe it was just too damn hot. Probably all of the above. I do think this was largely a mental problem and I couldn’t solve it. For someone who is about to start teaching a course on how to improve your running through mental training, that’s frustrating. But, truth in advertising and no one’s perfect, so there it is. I haven’t had a race like this since the Donna marathon in February 2018 and if it’s another 16 months before I have another one, that’s still too soon. [Third mile split: 8:34, ugh]

Post-race: No tiger

Mile four is back down the same stretch of road. Now I started to pull my shit back together a little bit. I focused on my promise to Coach Mick not to leave a single second on the course. I kept thinking about how he told me to “double down” at mile four and I tried to do that, even though I still felt lousy. I thought back to the idea of rescuing Rose from a tiger and how I would definitely find the ability to run faster if my daughter’s life were at stake. I didn’t get close to my goal pace, but mile four was better than mile three. [Fourth mile split: 8:03]

I will have to earn these next time around.

Mile five was downhill and I figured this was my chance to make up some time. HPRM#1 had said he thought I was approaching the 10K from the “speed side” and that I should be able to have a strong finish so now was the time to run hard. Apparently I said something to the Retiree like “I can’t go any faster” and then immediately started running faster down the hill. I vaguely remember also shouting “Pancakes!” which I had been hoping for as a post-race treat. He demanded that I put that in the race report so here it is. My brain was a bit blotto by now, but I also remembered “Earn it!” and the Retiree reminded me of that cue also. I want to run a faster marathon so badly and if this is how to earn it, I was going to do whatever I could manage to do that. [Fifth mile split: 7:46]

Alas, a 10K is a six mile race, not a five mile race, and this lovely downhill stretch had to come to an end. I was so ready to be done. I look at my watch a lot near the end of a race and I base my counting off the numbers of the final miles clicking away. But I didn’t have a watch to look at so I tried just counting. Every time I wrestled an update out of the Retiree about how far along we were, it was less far than I had expected. Mile six felt never ending. I started to lose heart again and there was a lot of slowing down and speeding up though no actual walking, thank goodness. FINALLY, I saw the six mile marker and then had to run some of the longest .2 miles I’ve ever experienced. I saw the finish line – the clock said 50:xx. Which was wildly off my goal of sub-48:00. My heart sank again. [Sixth mile split: 8:01]

Done.

It was so hot. I crossed the line. I leaned hard on some kind of barrier. I moved to a stretch of grass where I could lie down and recover. Then the Retiree showed me the watch: 47:55! Thank goodness! The Retiree and Mervus brought me ice and water and my medal. It was clear pretty quickly that the course was short, but I didn’t even care. I was just ecstatic to be done running.

Once I recovered a little more, we clarified some things. The course was definitely short – everyone’s watches measured just under 6 miles so that’s quite a bit short. I was really happy to be well under 50 minutes after all, regardless of the weird course. And, first in my age group! For the first time ever! I could only laugh about the free entry for next year as the prize.

Mattabesett String Collective!

The rest of the day was really busy. No time for pancakes after all because we all had to get back to Middletown to listen to Mervus’s band play. He sang with the band for the first time and sounded fabulous! It was a gorgeous summer day and I didn’t let the race get to me – until that evening, when I started feeling quite sad and angry. I wallowed really hard for the next couple of days. I committed thoroughly to the wallowing-process hoping to be efficient about it and get it over with as quickly as possible.

I’m not sure if the extra-efficient wallowing worked or not, but in a few days, I felt a little better. I forced myself to find some positive take-aways from the race. I talked about it (a lot….) with my trusted inner circle. My goal was to wring whatever lessons I could out of the race and move on. I think I did pretty well with that. The following week, Aidan left for Germany and his departure got mixed with the disappointing race in my mind, which made for a sad and somewhat lackluster week all the way around. But the dust has settled from all that. Summer is in full swing with more hot weather, time at the lake, some decent writing, and counting down the days until Aidan’s return.

What is Professor Badass up to? I thought that chick loved the marathon with an undying passion and yet she’s posting a whole series of race reports for shorter races?

Good question! What am I up to?

When I looked at my running schedule for the year, I had a break between the Boston marathon in the spring and the Chicago marathon in the fall. The next race on my schedule was the Boilermaker 15K on July 14^th, thirteen weeks post-Boston; after that I start training for Chicago. Including some genuine post-Boston recovery and at least some time to prepare for Boilermaker, that wasn’t enough time for a full training cycle, but I wanted to do something. Coach Mick emphasized that I should be sure to have FUN whatever we decided to do and I like to race. HPRM#1 is always on my case to run more shorter races, though “shorter” seems to be a moving target. My New Year’s resolution was #more5ks #morebrewpubs and yet I hadn’t done a 5K since January….

And thus, the Short Distance Spaghetti Project was born, a series of five races at four distances in five different states, including the Boilermaker (hey, from my perspective, 15K is short!). Jack Daniels says it’s important to understand to goal of every run so what’s the goal with these races? Basically, I am throwing some spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks. I am trying some shorter races to see what I can learn, knowing that the lessons will not clear ahead of time. Sometimes the way to get better at something is just by doing a lot more of it. Just get out there and toss some spaghetti. See what happens.

Race selection was mostly a matter of triangulating between life-schedule, work-schedule, and running-schedule. I ended up with the following list:

May 5^th, Providence 5K, in Providence, RI
May 25^th, Delaney Dash 4 Miler, in Old Saybrook, CT
June 8^th, Race for the Pies 5K, in Jacksonville, FL
June 22^nd, Westfield 10K, in Westfield, MA
July 14^th, Boilermaker 15K, in Utica, NY

I’ve been learning a lot. These races have not been unmitigated successes by a long shot. I went out way too fast at Providence in spite of planning to do it as a tempo run. But I learned something about control at the beginning of a race and my pacing for Delaney Dash was much better! Stay tuned for updates on how Race for the Pies and the Westfield 10K turned out. Now I kind of wish I had thought calling this undertaking the Short Distance Spaghetti Project ahead of time so I could have had a t-shirt made with a spaghetti picture. There’s a lesson right there.

Do you have a goal for every race you do? Care to share any of the lessons you’ve learned from shorter distances?

I write a lot of rather long blog posts, but this one is short. I ran my 1000th mile of 2019 today. It was the third mile of a four mile run with some strides mixed in. No big deal, a little light for a Friday, because I’m racing tomorrow. The year is not quite half over so if I can stay healthy, I’ll likely hit 2000 miles this year. That blows my mind and makes me smile. Happy running everyone!

Race Day

Race day “dawned” with a torrential downpour. Because the Incredible Mervus is indeed incredible, I knew I could ask him to get up and help with breakfast. The room didn’t have a microwave so we had to make oatmeal in the lobby. I needed two bowls, plus coffee, plus race day nerves – I was happy for some company. Mostly I was managing pretty well – I did have him pin my bib on. The B.A.A. gives you a small bag to take with you but I had scored a seat on a charter bus out of Jacksonville so I could stay on that bus and not have to deal with Athletes Village, which had been so bad last year in the rain.

I took an Uber over to the hotel where the charter buses were meeting, found Diamond, and got on the bus. We had a truly delightful ride with lots of time to talk. We had agreed to start together, but now we also agreed on a few hand signals, that we weren’t going to talk much while running, and that she was just going to run my pace. All good by me. I really wasn’t terribly worried about the weather, partly because of the bus, but mostly because I had just decided not to worry about it.

Just because I like to put this information in these race reports, here’s the fueling plan I used. I had race day oatmeal from Shalane Flanagan’s cookbook, with about 1 cup of oats for breakfast. Plus coffee, naturally. Boston has a late start so you have to kind of pack a lunch. I took along a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a banana to eat about an hour before start time, plus a bottle of Maurten and a Five Hour Energy Shot for right before the start. On the course, I took a Maurten gel every thirty minutes, and another Five Hour Energy Shot at mile 20. This plan worked perfectly. Unlike at Erie (when I used Gu), I didn’t have any nausea at all. Maybe the nausea at Erie was a one-off event, but it was nice to have fueling go so well and I got two more gels down, which can’t be a bad thing. I followed the plan exactly and it worked great.

After we arrived at the starting area, Diamond and I hung out on the bus while the fast folks went to the start. Boston has four wave starts, based on time, and each wave also has several corrals. Theoretically you should start with a bunch of people who are very close to you in pace. Diamond and I qualified with the exact same time and check out our bib numbers! Matching shoes too!

Finally it was our turn. We made one last potty stop and started walking to the starting line. It felt totally surreal. Like – how is this really happening? But also – how is this so normal? The piles of clothing and muddy shoes were like nothing I’ve seen before and I’ve run the NYC marathon. We were very lucky and the rain stopped before we had to get off the bus. We got to the start and nearly lined up with wave 4 by mistake. It was all more confusing than expected, but we found our spot eventually. There wasn’t really a gun or a starting pistol that I remember – it was more like a guy saying “go!” Then we were off. WE WERE RUNNING THE BOSTON MARATHON!!!!! WOOT!!!! HOLY AMAZING BATMAN!!!!

Miles 1 to 9

8:45 – 8:39 – 8:27 – 8:29 – 8:51 – 8:40 – 8:38 – 8:43 – 8:42

The start of Boston is on a narrow road in Hopkinton so the first mile, we were really packed in. That’s ok. One of the “secrets” to Boston is not to start too fast. I say “secret” because “Don’t start too fast” is the first thing everyone will say if you ask them for advice on how to run the course. Yet it’s also the first thing they will say they did wrong if you ask someone what kind of mistakes they’ve made at Boston. Starting too fast is easy to do at any marathon, but the initial downhill miles and the extra excitement of Boston make it particularly easy to lose your discipline, run too fast early on, and pay the price later. I’d probably thought more about those first 3-4 miles than any others on the course. I was really glad Diamond said she would follow my lead here. She’s faster than I am for sure, but this is only her second marathon so I have a lot more experience. I had consulted Spice Boy and Pocket Powerhouse the night before the race – they also train under Coach Mick. I’ve watched Spice Boy in particular perform well a couple of times in heat that had other runners folding. He said he was adjusting pace to go two minutes slower through the half, and then see how things looked until Heartbreak Hill [It’s his story to tell, but he negative split Boston 2019 and got a shiny new PR – his advice is solid.] I wasn’t looking to start too fast, but it IS really hard to stay in control. I think we did pretty well here though. Mile 5 is actually net uphill.

It’s always good to chunk a marathon up into smaller pieces and with Boston, you almost have to because of how the course plays out. This was my first Boston, but I had run the first 21 miles of the course with the Boston Buddies HOP21 run three weeks prior. I’ve also talked to lots of people and watched a number of course videos so I knew a lot about the course before we started. In any case, at about the four mile mark, the course flattens out and it’s small rolling hills until mile 16. I knew that the Retiree would be waiting with my parents and the sub-30 crew at mile 7. After the downhill, just three more miles.

I wasn’t feeling brilliant here. It was already getting warm and it was pretty humid. This training cycle has been all about belief in myself, learning to believe that I have become a faster runner and a better runner, almost willing myself to believe that. And yet – maybe conditions were telling me to adjust. People will tell you that you “should” feel good during the early miles of the marathon, but I think that’s a relative term. “Try to feel less shitty than you will later” might be more accurate advice. How soon it’s appropriate to feel what level of shitty is going to depend a lot on the experience and ability of the runner and the course and the conditions of the day. Why I am in love with an activity that can be even semi-accurately described by that sentence is a great mystery, but there you have it.

I knew from watching the B.A.A. course video quite a few times that Ryan Hall comes on and says something like “The 10K mark is where you should assess how things are going and if you are not doing great, you might need to dial it back.” Thanks for the advice, Ryan. HPRM#1 has told me about how the year he ran Boston, he reached up to scratch his head in the second mile or so and discovered he was already sweating and decided to slow down. If Ryan Hall and HPRM#1 are both saying – you might need to adjust, and Coach Mick said – don’t start too fast; bank energy not time – I was going to play it smart and by 10K, I was starting to think I should be looking for 8:40-8:45 on my watch, not 8:35. I couldn’t really remember what that pace would pan out to be in terms of a final time, but I thought still under 3:50 and in any case, still a BQ.

We came up on the Retiree just where he said he’d be, runners’ left, just before the 7 mark. I was SO happy to see him, North Shore Strider, the flag, and the Sub-30 cheer squad! Awesome! I’m not going to pretend to be shy here – I LOVE having people cheer for me! It gives me so much energy and makes me feel great! I wish there were a word to mean in-this-together because it makes me feel that – that’s my team out there! But a couple of important people were missing from the cheer squad: My parents. They drove all the way from Michigan to watch me run this race and I had thought they would be with the Retiree. I spun back around and yelled “Where are my parents??!!” The Retiree shouted back “Two miles up!” The first thing I thought was, crap, I have to run two more miles? Which gives some serious insight into how I was feeling at mile 7, with actually NINETEEN more miles to go. But making a habit of positive thinking is nothing to be sneezed at – thank you Deena Kastor – because my brain immediately switched tracks to: Oh, this is much better. That’s another target to aim for and then you’ll already be at mile 9. Meanwhile, Diamond had got her first dose of Sub-30 without even quite knowing it and just said, oh THAT was COOL!

We ran two more miles. I was taking the Maurten right on schedule and trying to keep our pace around 8:40. Diamond and I were working well as a team. I was often a few steps in front, setting the pace, which makes me more comfortable. She kept a look out for potholes or train tracks or big dogs to see. We really didn’t talk, but it was that special runner companionship of sharing steps on the road. This is hard to describe and I don’t fall into it with many people, especially not people I don’t know well, but Diamond and I hit the shared-stride feeling instantly. Fate or God’s will brought us together, I am sure of it.

Soon we started getting close to mile 9 and I heard “Sarah!!” There were my parents! I had thought I would give them a high five or a quick hug, but instead I saw my mom and just ran over and gave her a huge kiss! Sometimes, you’re just really, really happy to see your mom. I was SO delighted that they made it out to the course! No one could ask for better support!

Miles 10 to 16

8:53 – 9:02 – 8:48 – 9:03 – 9:14 – 9:05 – 8:53

We were through mile 9 and now “stuff” was going to start happening, as I put it in my mind and in my pre-race visualization exercises. Mile 10 is Natick, the first town of any real note. I’ve cheered twice in Natick so I know the scene. It’s a much bigger, much louder crowd than runners have encountered thus far on the Boston course. I thought of the Palm Sunday service: Natick is the first sign of the city to come. Diamond had never been to Natick before and she just gasped: Wow. I noted our pace – we were down to 8:10. That crowd energy is no joke! I just said: Control, and slowed a bit. Somewhere in here I also decided to turn on my music. Diamond had hers on and we had agreed that this was fine. I had hoped to postpone music until the halfway point or even longer, but it was turning out to be a tougher day than expected. The crowds were out in Natick in force because the weather had gotten lovely, for spectating. Unfortunately not for running – it was bright sun, maybe 65-70 degrees and really high humidity. For runners who have not had a chance to acclimate to these conditions in training, these are tough conditions. It was only mile 10 and the weather was already a significant factor. As I started to slow down I thought, well, you’ve run two very hot marathons and you managed to finish them both. This might not be pretty, but you’ll still get that unicorn medal. You’ll still earn the jacket. But then I thought: What is this bullshit? Yes, it’s a tad warm at the moment, but you are holding pretty strong. BELIEVE. That’s what it says on your bracelet so have a little faith here. Just run the mile you’re in. Onward!

The next “thing that happens” is, of course, the notorious Wellesley scream tunnel, the section of the course where the Wellesley students come out and scream their heads off and ask for kisses. I didn’t want to miss this tradition so I picked out a comely lass holding a sign that read “Kiss Me I’m a Vegan” and went for it – a good solid peck on the cheek! My second girl-kiss of the race!

Wellesley is at about mile 12.6, just before the halfway mark. Coach Mick and I had talked about whether I was aiming for a certain time at the halfway point and whether I would check my watch to see if I was on target. A 3:45 marathon split perfectly is a 1:52:30 half marathon. That’s well within my ability on a decent day, but today I hit the halfway mark at 1:55:05. Some quick math told me that if I even split the race, I’d be just over 3:50. The weather was telling me quite clearly that even splitting was an unlikely outcome. But a slight positive split would still get me between 3:50 and 3:55. My BQ time is 3:55 – and obviously the faster the better. So at the halfway mark I knew the goal was something Coach Mick had talked about as “Preserve the BQ.” From here on out, I knew every second counted. I knew I needed to be careful for the next three miles, show up at the Newton hills ready to rock, and really be prepared to pound out the last five downhill miles. That’s exactly what I aimed to do. At Wellesley, we were starting to get quite warm and we had to slow down a bit – but hopefully not too much. Every now and then, I sent up a prayer. Something like – God, we are on the road from the country to the city. The weather report said rain. Please send the rain – or at least the breeze. Or if no rain and no breeze, please send me the strength to run through the sun. I race to honor you – please let me race well.

More “stuff” happens quickly after Wellesley. At mile 16, the course drops over 100 feet in a mile at Newtown Lower Falls. We had slipped to a couple of 9+ minutes miles, but I was able to get us back to sub-9 here, though with mile 16 at 8:53 pace, really only barely. Then at mile 17 the Newton hills start. Unfortunately, Diamond was also really starting to struggle. She had been having some hip pain and we had agreed that if one of us started to struggle, the other one would go on. When she gasped out that her hip was bad, I asked what to do – she said to go on and I did. I’d tackle the Newton hills alone then. I SO loved running with her and kept checking to see if she’d popped back up next to me, as she had several times over the course of the race thus far, but alas, it was not to be. Her hip issue resolved, but she got wicked calf cramps, that nearly took her out. Then she literally caught another runner who fell in the last few miles – but again, that is her story to tell.

Miles 17 to 21

9:27 – 9:40 – 8:39 – 9:03 – 9:24

The Newton hills were maybe the best thing I learned about at the HOP21 run. This famous set of four hills are late in the race with the last one being the infamous “Heartbreak Hill.” Heartbreak didn’t earn its name for breaking lots of hearts – rather, it broke one particular heart, John Kelley’s. In the 1936 Boston Marathon, Kelley passed the leader, Tarzan Brown, and patted him on the back. This gesture apparently enraged Tarzan who overtook Kelley on Heartbreak Hill and won the race. I love that story because it’s a reminder – the hills don’t have to break your heart. My fastest split of HOP21 was the last one, up Heartbreak Hill.

The hills aren’t that steep – they are just poorly timed. What I learned from HOP21 is that what goes up, must come down. There’s a lot of up between miles 17 and 21, but there’s a good deal of down as well. If you’re still in good shape, you can run the downs hard, which is exactly what I intended to do. This is another section of the course I’d thought about and visualized a lot. I was thrilled on HOP21 when I got to this section and discovered plenty of power left in my legs. If there was maybe somewhat less power there on race day, it wasn’t nothing and I arrived at the hills ready to run them strong. I passed a lot of people going up those hills – I wish I could say I had thought of Tarzan, but this was late enough that I wasn’t thinking all that much anymore. Instead, my playlist had arrived at my theme song for this training cycle “Live Like A Warrior” by Matisyahu. Someone in Running for Real had asked the other day – if you could only listen to one song on repeat for an entire marathon, what would it be? I didn’t hesitate – clearly “Live Like A Warrior” and here it was for the hills. So approximately every three minutes, I hit “back” on my Mighty Vibe mp3 player and started the song over again. Meanwhile, I passed lots of people going up and even more people going down (that’s the 8:39 split, obviously). At about mile 20, I heard someone calling my name – it was Cinnamon from Salty Running! I was so happy to see her! I knew some sub-30 folks would be here too but between the heat and the hills, I missed them.

Miles 22 to 26.2

8:25 – 8:33 – 8:30 – 8:25 – 8:39 – (last .2 at 8:12 pace)

Finally I reached the top of Heartbreak Hill! Thank God! I’ve read HPRM#1’s Boston race report a few more times than I care to admit so I know when he got here, he planned to speed up and in his words “The cupboard was bare.” I thought, my cupboard had damn well better not be bare because I had been watching the clock and I knew that a BQ was still within reach, but there was to be no dawdling on the road down into Boston. I had to kick it into gear, big time. This is another place where I had used a good deal of visualization – reaching the top of Heartbreak Hill, feeling strong, running hard into Boston and here it was in real life. I knew it would hurt, but it’s supposed to hurt this late into a marathon. It did hurt. And I thought – what is the point here exactly? Your BQ is going to be so small that you probably won’t get into the race. This is really hard. You could just slow down. You’ve run a credible race. I thought about Coach Mick and I knew – he will be proud of you no matter what, but you know he wishes he could be here. I thought of the conversation where I would tell HPRM#1 that I just didn’t feel like hurting anymore. That conversation would truly suck. I even thought of a motivational poster someone put up in Sub-30 about how the sprint to the finish is nothing like as important as the 40 minutes of torture prior to the sprint. I knew I had better figure out a way to care enough to make this hurt, regardless of the size of the BQ. That’s when I remembered Meb, running hard when he knew he couldn’t win, just to show his kids that it’s important to do your best. Even though I felt pretty lousy now (ok, well beyond lousy…), this would be over with soon and if I walked away with another BQ, of whatever size, I’d be pretty psyched. Five or so miles to go – 9 minute miles or better – every second counts – let’s get after it.

I blasted my way down the back of Heartbreak Hill and damn, if this race wasn’t FUN now! Yes, I still hurt – a lot – but running downhill fast really is fun and frankly passing people is fun and running into the glorious city of Boston is really fun! I looked up and saw the Citgo sign. I heard the crowds. I pressed repeat-repeat-repeat on the Mighty Vibe even though I could barely hear my music because everything was so loud. I wanted to start counting so badly but I knew it wasn’t time yet. 21 miles done. Citgo sign. Repeat on music. Look at the crowds, be present, be astonished! it’s the FREAKING BOSTON MARATHON! 22 miles done, head too blurry to do the math, just run like hell down the hill, don’t run into anyone. 23 miles done – take your last Maurten, yes the race is almost over, but maybe it helps, just 5K to go now. 24 miles done – ok, you can count, just keep running HARD. Heels UP, fast turnover (when will I get better at that?), I don’t care if the foot hurts now, you’re almost done!

I hear: Sarah! Sarah! It’s Rooster and Blue Turtle! Come to cheer! I had no hope that I would find them, but they have found me! HOORAY! Run Hard! Sarah! Again! It’s the Selfie King from Boston Buddies, also cheering and yelling my name! Keep going, keep counting, let the crowd give you their energy! With a kilometer to go, there’s an underpass and my family will be on the other side. WHERE THE HELL IS THE UNDERPASS??? WHERE IS IT??? WHERE???? I should have looked at street names so I would know. WHERE IS IT??? FINALLY, there it is. Down the ramp. I am counting and running so hard that when I pass someone instead of saying “Excuse me” or “Good job” I actually just look at him and say “Fifteen!” Up the far side of the underpass. One of my big fears had been walking up because I didn’t want my family to see me walking. But I am running strong. There’s a woman down, but the police are with her, yikes. Finally there are Mervus and the kids, they are yelling and I am yelling in my head, but I just wave and blow them a kiss and HERE’S THE TURN! RIGHT ON HEREFORD! LEFT ON BOYLSTON! Remember this remember this remember this! Run like hell but lock it into your brain! There’s the line and the clock you have to get there EVERY SECOND TRULY COUNTS GO GO GO!

I cross the line. Thank God. I can stop. I am pretty sure I have run 3:53 something, 3:53:21 it turns out. A new PR by 44 seconds and a BQ with a 1:39 cushion. I’ve no idea if that is enough and I don’t care – I wanted that BQ SO BAD and I got it.

I am leaning against the finish line barrier catching my breath when I hear the announcer say “Now we will ring the bells to honor the victims of the 2013 bombings.” I have finished at exactly the time the bombs went off. I start to cry. Then the announcer said something like “Now, let’s have a cheer so we show the world how we will always be BOSTON STRONG!” The crowd goes insane! This is such a perfect ending to my race that I couldn’t possibly have scripted it. I cry a little more and then start to get my act together and head toward the exit.

I get my water and it starts to sprinkle. I get my medal and it starts to rain. It starts raining harder so I grab a heat sheet and head to the family meeting area. It’s really raining hard now with cold gusting winds. I call Mervus and he’s on his way but there are so many people that it’s impossible to move. After 20 minutes or so, I started to shake so badly that I asked the medical volunteers for help. They took me to the medical tent in a wheelchair and put some blankets on me to warm me up. Mervus arrived moments after I left so this little sojourn of mine bogged down our exit even further but finally I was warm enough and I found my family. I hope they know how very much I love them and appreciate them. This Boston run was my dream, but they helped me make it come true. My kids are going to grow up having watched their mom run a lot of marathons, and then run the greatest of them all. I hope they know that when it got hard, I ran for them. I hope they find the confidence and grit and determination and joy to chase their own dreams and most of all, I hope they find love in the chase.