Race Report: Run Your Can Off

Saturday morning was literally the perfect day to be a runner.  Although it was 30 degrees at the start, it quickly warmed up to the mid 40s with sun and clear skies. About 50 of us showed up, filled a truck with donated food and prepared to run anywhere from 1.25 to 35 miles.

From the time I woke up on Saturday, I was aware of how different the morning of an ultramarathon felt compared to a regular marathon.  I didn't have to worry about halting drinking so that I could use the porto-potty at the perfect time before the start; there was a porto-potty every 1.25 miles.  I didn't have to eat a huge bowl of oatmeal to carbo-load; I had fuel every 1.25 miles. I didn't have to pick the perfect layers; as some of the other runners can attest, I lost a layer of clothing every lap for the first few miles, leading me to ask if this was Run Your Clothes Off. Even the atmosphere was different.  Instead of thousands of anxious runners shoving each other in a corral, checking pace bands and planning strategy, we stood around drinking coffee and introducing ourselves. As Queen of race nerves, this was a welcome change.

The race went off around 9:15 and I started slowly as planned.  Really slowly.  I'm not kidding when I say that some of the kids who were running with us beat me through the first lap.  The first few laps were painless as my fingers and toes warmed up.  By about 5 miles in, I had stripped off my tights and was comfortably in shorts and a tee shirt.  For the first couple of hours, I ran in 4 lap (5 mile) chunks, stopping after every 4 to fuel, stretch and do a systems check. Per usual for me, I didn't feel warmed up until about 8 miles in and cruised through mile 15.  After the 12th lap, I started doing 3 lap chunks and definitely started to feel the distance.  After my 17th lap, I announced that I was only had 24 laps (30 miles) in me for the day. From that point on, I did two laps at a time and just tried to keep one foot in front of the other.

Miles 22 to 26 were tough.  I was tired, sore and disoriented from running a loop trail covered in leaves. By the time I reached 26, however, I was elated.  Every step was one longer than I'd ever run before and I was excited to see how far I could go.  I was also thrilled to note that although I was tired, my form wasn't falling apart.  I was moving slowly, but not compensating, so I plugged on.  On my 24th lap, Greg, the race organizer, kindly joined me to celebrate.  It was a good thing, as I was tired enough that bidding adieu to every tree, stump, log and squirrel seemed normal.  I finished, with minimal fanfare, but have never been more proud of myself.  The race medal, a crushed can, may become my favorite bling from any race.

After the race, I begrudgingly got myself into an ice bath, foam rolled and refueled.  My friends can attest that I even wore small heels on Saturday night (although they will also share that I was moving so slowly, it could barely be considered forward progress).  I am sore today, but much less so than I anticipated. Stairs are not my friend and although I feel like a rockstar, I look like a pirate. 

So what did this race mean to me?  First, it was part of my continued effort to be a more patient racer. I knew that if I wanted to survive, I needed to go out and stay slow.  In past races (please see Vegas 2009), going out too fast crushed my opportunity for a good race. Second, I verified that endurance remains a strong point for me.  When I am exhausted at mile 20 of Boston, I can think back to Saturday, and be grateful for only 6 miles left and confident that I have it in me.  Finally, I had fun. Running has always been my release valve, but my competitive drive sometimes overrides that and sucks the joy right out of it. During this recovery, I've done some fun events that I hope recalibrate me.

I said I'd never...

run an ultramarathon. But here we are and I'm signed up to run a lot of miles tomorrow, under the auspices of charity.  Run Your Can Off (http://runyourcanoff.blogspot.com/) is tomorrow morning, and I have up to 6 hours to fill with running.  I pledged to run a lap (1.25 miles) for every can/good donated.  I like doing good things almost as much as I like running, so I have a lot to donate and therefore a lot of laps to run.  As with all long runs, I'm approaching this one in a relaxed manner.  I'm not ready to race or even push it, so tomorrow is an another exercise in patience.  I'm going to take it one lap at a time, stretch when I need to and call it if things start to feel bad.  After all, the finish line is at most a mile away.

I'd like to do at least 15 laps, but my real goal is somewhere between 25 and 30 slow laps.  The mental exercise of pressing on and managing boredom will help me late in the marathon, when I often find myself alone and battling my inner "stop" demons. Running 30 miles will also be my last very long run for a while; on Monday, I start my gear up for Boston, the first 6 weeks of which are focused on speed and strength.  Endurance is not a limiting factor for me, but speed certainly is.  My best 5k time, for example, is only about 30 seconds faster per mile than my marathon pace. Focusing on speed necessitates that I drop my volume and over the next few weeks (detailed training plan to be revealed soon...), my runs will be short and intense.

I'm excited to get out there tomorrow for a good cause, meet up with some local runners and run trails for the better part of the day.  Being honest, I'm also excited to eat poptarts, which are my guilty pleasure long run food.  I'm also excited to take some pictures and add to my collection of running pictures in which I don't look terrible!  I'll post one or two here.

Have a great weekend of running all. This is the perfect time of year to be a runner!

The Diva's Half Marathon

Despite a rocky start (sitting in traffic for over an hour, missing the race start because they didn't hold the race for the 2000 people in traffic etc), my girls and I had a fabulous time in the Diva's half marathon.  For Lindsey, it was her first (and allegedly only) half marathon.  For me, it was a completely different perspective on a race.  A normal race morning for me finds me a bundle of nerves, reviewing strategy until the gun goes off.  When the gun went off last Sunday, we were facing the wrong direction and not even in the corral.  While I'll admit to being perturbed, it waned when I realized that my start (nor my middle, nor my finish) didn't matter.  We were here to run with Lindsey and enjoy the ride.

Enjoy it we did.  I have never been part of the pack.  Even in Las Vegas, the pack thinned quickly and I spent miles 10 through 26 essentially alone. Last weekend, however, we were surrounded.  We chatted up other groups, inevitably curious about our costumes, danced when there was music around and stopped to take pictures mid-race.  I took a bathroom break, walked through water stops and hurdled the occasional pylon.  I had a blast. The picture below is from the Mile 12 tiara and boa stop.  As you can tell, I'm taking things very seriously. (The song was Vogue.)

So what do I take away from the experience?  Anyone who has been around me on race day knows that I am legitimately no fun.  If I talk at all, it's harsh and I am so nervous I often vomit. Delightful, I know. Did this race change all of that?  Of course not.  What it did remind me is that running should be fun and that there are always other races.  It also helped me realize that I want to be racing again and that I have a lot of work to do this fall. 

Other lessons?  Don't run with a boa.  They smell terrible and are hard to breathe through.