This winter, I spent a lot of hours training for the Colorado Marathon, held in Ft. Collins the beginning of May. This was going to be it ... the race where I was going to break 3:30. My marathon the previous fall had been a P.R., and I felt even more fit, my training had been much more marathon specific, and the course was a net-downhill.
The night before the race, I was a little more nervous and on edge than normal (and I'll admit, I get a bit edgy before races anyway). I attribute it to two causes - first, this race meant a lot to me. Second - and maybe more important for what happened the following day, I had been under a huge amount of emotional stress the 6 days prior. I had the opportunity (a wonderful opportunity, really) to attend a leadership development program. I'm still a bit hesitant to say it, as I am still scared of losing touch with the experience, but I do believe that the course was life changing. Of course, change usually comes with it's share of stress, and this one had plenty. On top of that, there was a lot of work stress that I had to deal with in the evenings after the leadership sessions. All of that added up to me being a bit more emotionally fragile than normal.
That said, race morning, I woke up, went through my routine, and felt great - so ready to go. The race was super well organized, and there were several huge buses waiting to take us up the Poudre River Canyon. Several nervous-bladder porta-potty stops later, we were on the starting line, then we were off ... heading down the canyon as the sun began to rise.
I felt great. My pace was on target, I was drinking (hand-held bottle) well, and taking a couple good swallows of gel from my flask every 45 minutes. It was a fairly warm morning (at least warmer than we'd had in quite a while) so I also took an few S-caps spaced an hour or so apart. I was actually ahead of the 3:30 pace group, but that seemed okay -- I didn't seem to be working *too* hard. At the half-marathon point, I stopped by a porta-potty, and the 3:30 pace group passed me just as I came out (my half-marathon split on the race webpage is 1:45 - and the timing mats were after the porta-potties). I figured that I needed to at least catch up with them if I was going to meet my goal, but I also knew that there were still 13 miles left, which gave me plenty of time to catch up. So, rather than sprint to meet them, I decided to pick up the pace just a bit, figuring I'd catch up with them in a few miles.
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| When I still had my wheels under me during the Colorado Marathon |
I never did. Around mile 20, the wheels came off. I'd been slowing a bit before then, but there was a point at which it felt like suddenly ... I don't know how to describe it other than I was done. I've bonked before; I've been overheated before; I've been exhausted both physically and emotionally before ... I know those places. This was different. My body simply didn't want to run anymore. My pace went from 7:30-8:30 minutes per mile to barely under 10 minutes per mile. I put water on my head - it didn't work. I drank more - didn't help. I ate more - nope, nothing. So I plodded. I plodded along until the last bit through town, where I tried to look like I'd been running.
I finished in 3:39:38. This is actually my second fastest marathon, and still a Boston qualifier - so really, not too bad. However, I'd expected so much more out of myself and had worked so hard... and was sure that I was prepared. I was very much disappointed; which is why it has taken me almost 3 months to write about it.
My awesome coach, Meghan, suggested that my anti-diuretic hormone may have gotten out of whack. Something was certainly off. (note to those not used to discussing bodily functions ... skip to the next paragraph). I was hydrating well the rest of the day, but not peeing much at all. That night though ... sheesh. I was up several times, peeing a ton each time ... and that continued through the next day.
Lessons learned? That's been the other hard part of this experience. There wasn't one definitive thing that I can say I did right or wrong. Other than that I underestimated the toll that such an emotional experience (combined with the travel and different schedule) would have on my system and performance.
So... one foot in front of the other.
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| Leaving Bath Rd. A.S. with Meghan during Western States 100. |
The benefit of being done with road marathon training is it released me to get back on the trails, back in the high country. My first big post-marathon event was pacing Meghan in Western States 100. I feel so lucky to be have once again been a part of the race. It is so amazing to see what people are capable of not just physically, but very much emotionally. Nick Clark, a top 10 from last year - reported to be dropping at ForestHill and ended up taking a prolonged break at an aid station. Meghan passed him at the aid station, then he came back to pass her and finish strong in the end. Matt Keyes, who had to walk it into the finish over many miles due to trashed legs. Even Meghan, who had a rough day, but finished 8th (even if it was with a lean).
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| I'll admit - it's kind-of fun to get a podium finish. |
I came back inspired, and reinvigorated. I ran our local 4th of July 10km and came in 2nd (woman). Not bad for it being just a speed workout! And since have had a lot of fun exploring new trails in the mountains in this state I currently call home.
This weekend is Mt. Werner 50km, then Waldo 100km in mid-August and Run Rabbit Run 50 miler in September. Then ... who knows. We'll see where my feet take me.
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