Denver Rock 'n Roll 2013

After every race, I have a myriad of mixed feelings.  Did I go hard enough?  Did I start too fast?  Should I have stayed with a pace group?  Overall, I am happy with my new PR at the Denver Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon yesterday.  I earned a 1:52:06.  Compared to last year's time of 2:01:49, I'd say that's a worthy improvement. 

Before the race. It was actually a pleasantly warm morning!

Monica, my husband Randall, and I all stayed ahead of the 1:50 pace group for the first 10 miles.  Somehow at mile 10, there was a crowded water station that forced people single file and the next time I looked up, not only were the 1:50 pacers ahead of me, but I'd lost my friend and husband in the crowd. 

My husband photo-bombed me at mile 4.  I love running with my husband and friends.  They keep it light and fun!

I didn't start the race wanting a specific time.  Start strong, finish fast.  That's it.  I wanted to improve on last year's 2 hour finish and I knew I could accomplish that goal.  If I felt good I would maintain between an 8:20-8:40 pace, averaging right at 8:30 miles.  Every time I looked at my watch it read right at 8:30.  Seeing the reality of that goal, mile-after-mile, boosted my spirits and kept me feeling strong right to mile 10.  I knew the 1:50 pace group was right at our heals starting at mile 8 and if I wanted to stay ahead of them we'd need to speed up for the finish. 

The 10th mile was at the top of a long but not very steep hill.  People were tiring out and the water station was extremely crowded.  I saw Monica slip behind me, as did Randall and I assumed they were grabbing a drink.  Then the dreaded pace flag bounced along in front of me and I became really mad at myself.  How can I hold them off for 10 freaking miles, and let them go just like that?  I surged forward as fast as my tired legs could run, but those 15 people kept pulling away slowly and I couldn't keep up. 

A man at the back of the pack kept belching out weird support-driven tirades, "Don't fade now!"  "Keep going!"  "PUSH! PUSH! You are stronger than that weakness in your knees!" "Finish strong and speed up, even if you might pass out!"  To be honest, he provided the demotivation I needed to slow down a bit.  I didn't want to hear him screaming at the top of his lungs for 3.1 more miles about how good he felt and how crappy I was suddenly feeling.  It is funny how one moment I can feel unstoppable but the second someone screams at me not to be tired, my legs feel instantly wrecked and I need  to find a cold place to cuddle up in the grass with a Tangerine Gu.

From the Oatmeal.

I put headphones in my ears to drown out the sounds of my heavy breathing and suddenly exhausted thoughts and pushed towards the finish.  Last year I felt like a complete rock star when I crossed the finish line.  Crowds were screaming, lights were flashing, music was playing, and I was smiling at cameras left and right.  This year, I am sure all that stuff was equally as thrilling, but I was focused on a ruthless lady in green.

She was wearing a long sleeved, green pullover and her blonde hair bounced in unison with our steps.  I felt boxed in and tried to move around her.  I surged forward but I was in no way racing her to the finish until she suddenly sped up and wouldn't let me by her for anything.  I found that insulting and made it my life's goal to pass her.  No success was more important at that moment.  We raced each other those final 200 yards to the finish in an all out sprint.  Why?  I don't know.  If I had that in me still, why didn't I use it to catch the Oatmeal's Blerch in that damn pace group?  Where was my fire 20 minutes ago? 
 

My husband Randall, me, and Monica

I crossed the finish line excited about my new PR and felt suddenly remorseful for engaging with that green lady.  I walked over to her and patted her on the shoulder to make amends.  After gathering a banquet of Gatorade, water, chocolate milk, bagels, and granola bars, we headed back to the car to nurse my chafed legs and enjoy some nicely stocked warm sweats and Irish hot cocoa.    

My precious Irish hot cocoa post race listening to Atlas Genius.

I am strong

While I was training for the Colfax Marathon, I came up with a really simple mantra to get me over the hard spots during training.  It wasn't anything awesome, but it worked.  "1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3..."  Mind-blowing, eh?  Yeah, I tried more creative sayings like, "Run harder!" or "Keep Go-ing," or "Get it done."  I found those sayings downright distracting and they defeated their purposes entirely.  The reason I employed self-talk, was because I couldn't run harder.  I was desperately trying to get that 20 miler in the books, and I didn't know if I could physically run anymore.  Counting seemed basic.  I found myself getting from one step to the next and starting all over again.  My feeble mind couldn't think of much else. 

I've used my counting strategy often while running the trails behind my house this summer, but it lost its effectiveness.  Every time I try to count my way up a hill, I get distracted and find myself counting the actual steps, which only leads to me thinking of how many more steps I must have until I get to the top of that awful hill. 

My mom suggested a long time ago that I sing a song in my head instead of repeating a mantra.  She thought "Ants go Marching," would be relevant and slightly hilarious.  How many revolutions of that song could I get through when running 26.2 miles?  I tried it and it quickly changed to "The ants go marching 4 by 4, Harrah, Harrah.  The ants go marching 4 by 4, the little one stops to wretch on the floor...."  It didn't work. 

This morning I ran my 5 mile loop on the same trails behind my house that find me every morning.  This particular loop has a mean 2 mile long hill that feels relentless.  It's grade varies from 5% up to 12% inclines.  Halfway up the hill I desperately wanted to stop and walk, but I thought about all the goals I have for new PRs in the half marathon and full marathon distance.  I can't get there by walking.  I told myself, "I am strong."  Instead of counting, I repeated, "I am strong. I am strong. I am strong," with each step. 

It worked.  I got to the top of the hill, tired as all get out with another 2 miles of hills to go, but I made it and I wasn't slow.  I ran those 2 miles under an 8:30 pace.  I AM strong dammit! 


What is your running mantra?  When do you need it most?

~Roadburner