Man, what a weekend. Thursday morning on my way to the gym it started snowing. Wet, heavy snow. It kept coming. In fact it snowed on until Friday night. When all was said and done we had 20.9" on the ground. Friday swimming and running was out since not even the gym was open. Saturday morning the phone rings at 5:30 AM. It is my husband's job calling. Can he leave today (Saturday) for Chile. Sigh. I'm immediately pissed off, but then I remind myself I need to have perspective. I need to get the the gym early to take care of my training (babysitting service and I got the LAST slot) and I need to scramble for a sitter to come at 7AM Sunday morning so I can get to my race. Fortunately, my sitter agreed to come; Olivia, you rock!!
|My Brooks Launch...they were awesome and I didn't puke on them.|
Now that I have all the crap out of the way, onto the race. Got up at 6 AM, had my oatmeal, sitter arrived at 7 and I headed to Brooklyn's Prospect Park for the Al Gordon Classic 4 Miler. It was sunny and about 33-34˚F; nice....Dropped my bag and took a warm-up run. I was nervous as shit. I knew I was going to have to suffer for this race. I knew the time didn't matter, but it was all about the effort. I could feel the adrenaline pumping, my legs felt like rubber while running; they were all jittery. I was anxious to just go. After the race started it took me 5 minutes just to get from my corale to the start line. I think I have performance anxiety (no, not that kind, I do fine there).
I should say I did not wear my HR monitor or my foot pod to gauge my pace. I just had my Timex and I wanted to 'feel' the race. Now I just had to remember to hit the split button, doh! (a little foreshadowing)
The first mile was a slight downhill and then the rest of the mile was a loooooong uphill. I attacked it. I felt my HR going up already, but I felt good. Heading into mile 2 I was trying to keep my feet moving quick. It seemed like forever for mile 2 to come up, I was sure I had missed the marker. I was pushing, I was suffering. I felt like I was fast (ha). There is the mile 2 marker. Are you fucking kidding? Ugh. How am I suffering at mile 2? I guess I reached that ventillary (sp?) threshold Michelle has spoken about, I started panting. I then knew my HR was at 170 cuz that is when it happens for me. Then I remember I didn't take my inhaler, my throat and chest feel tight. Keep pushing.
Mile 3 came more quickly and I realized I never hit my split button on mile 1 & 2, gah. Mile 3 split 26:17, pace 8:45. I am supposed to be trying to hit 8:30. Shit! I say shit now, but I had no clue what that time really meant pace wise, just that it was better than 9:00.
Heading for mile 4 and the finish, but just after mile 3. Push, push, you are supposed to feel like crap, push damn it! What's that feeling...oh crap, oh no...Braaaaaaaw (can you say puke? I want my award Big Daddy!). Oh, but wait....a bit further on puke #2. More accurately dry heave. Ok, that is hard to come back from. That had never happened to me. I guess I did work hard. Yet......finish time 36:02, a 9:00 pace. If I suffer that much, how is it I was so damn slow? I puked for a 9:00 pace? I'm supposed to puke for at the very least an 8:30 pace, more preferably an 8:15 pace. I fully, fully expected to be able to run an 8:30 race. I was so sure I would be able to do it, I had no doubt. What the hell happened?
|Post race self portrait, a thing of beauty, ha!|
Post race ruminations:
Yes, I suffered, but was I faster than I was at my 10k in December? I'm not sure. I did a 9:20 pace, but it was a longer race. I guess if I hadn't puked, maybe I would have done an 8:45. Michelle told me that race distances are notoriously unreliable and this race wasn't so much about the time, but the suffering and clearly I had accomplished that, but still......I want my suffering at the track to pay dividends in the race. I know, I have to be patient. I've only been running just a year now and nothing comes quick and easy in this sport.
Then this afternoon I had to attend a 4 year old birthday party. I'm not sure which event had me suffering more today. At least I got cake at the party, my tummy was feeling much better (I'd have much rather had a beer).