A Cure for Taper Madness, Part 1: The Pumpkin Classic

Taper time is upon us, and we all know what that means.  That's right: the madness is rearing its ugly head.  As marathon day gets closer, and my runs get shorter, I find myself growing increasingly uneasy.  "Uneasy" is probably too nice a word.  "Irrational" and "obsessive" might be more accurate descriptive terms.  But I may have discovered a possible cure for taper madness.  Well, maybe it's not so much a cure as it is a diversion tactic.  It simply involves running lots of races.

Those of you who read this blog regularly know that one of my personal mottos is "Why run just one race in a weekend when you can run two (or more)?"  So this past weekend my plan was to run both the Morton Pumpkin Classic 10k on Saturday, and the Fox Valley Half-Marathon on Sunday, as well-organized training runs.  No racing, no pressure. 

I hadn't run the Pumpkin Classic since 2008, so I was fairly certain I could PR without running a hard effort (I have run only one other 10k race since 2008, and I didn't race that one either).  My good friends Becky and Mike were also planning to run it for fun, so we decided to all run together.  After picking up my race packet (which included a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt), and attaching my bib and timing chip, I lined up with my friends by the 9:00-12:00 / mile pace sign.  I figured since the race was chip timed and we weren't planning to race, it wasn't important to be near the front.  Too bad I didn't realize they didn't have a timing mat at the start of the race.  Good thing I wasn't actually racing this race, or I would've been a bit upset about that.

I was shooting for a 9:00 - 9:30 pace for this "race", which was comfortable given the nice cool weather.  The three of us stuck together for the first 5 miles, running and chatting and enjoying the course entertainment (there were several bands playing along the course).  But in the last mile, Mike started picking up the pace, and I followed suit.  Becky (wisely) didn't want to play our silly race game, so she let us go on ahead.  After Mike kicked my butt in the 5k race last weekend though, I didn't want to get beat again.  He sped up a little.  I sped up a little.  He sped up a bit more.  I sped up a bit more.  We came around the final turn and the finish line was in sight, so I sped up a lot.  I thought I had lost him and I was going to cruise into the finish, but then he caught back up to me and we kept running faster and faster. By the time we got to the finish line, we were doing about a  5:30 pace and I was yelling "Dammit, Mike, slow down!!!" 

He did not slow down. 

Nor did I.

Mikey got chicked! (by choice)

Mike let me beat him.  Barely.  But he let it happen.  I am pretty sure he could out-sprint me with both his hands tied behind his back, so yeah, he totally let me win.  Even though we have the same time in the official results, my result is listed first, which means I WON.  HA!  *sticking tongue out at Mike*  Not that I'm competitive or anything.

Oh, and incidentally, it did end up being a 10k PR for me, although I hesitate to really call it a PR, since I have run faster-paced half-marathons than this.  But, in a strictly technical sense, it was a PR for the 10k race distance.  It was also a PR for Mike since it was his first 10k ever. Go us!

Mike and I collected our medals ("oooo, shiny!"), met up with Mike's wife and her friend (who had both done the 2 mile walk event) and enjoyed the post-race "feast" of bananas, granola bars and orange slices.  It wasn't really much of a feast if you ask me.  Uhhh, hello?  This is supposed to be the pumpkin festival!  Where's my post-race pumpkin pie???

Loser on the left, winner on the right. 
Of course, if Mike reads this, I don't think he'll ever let me win ever again...  

All things considered, this was just an okay event.  The course was fairly flat and fast, so for anyone wanting to really race a 10k, I think this is a good one.  But the lack of chip timing at the race start is annoying.  Also, the age groups in this race are 15 years, which meant that I was competeing against 20-year-olds.  How completely and utterly ridiculous.  In an event with this many runners, there should be standard 5-yeard age groupings. I was also irritated by the long line for post-race refreshments.  One line for 1500 runners and walkers?  Not cool.  I did, however, enjoy the course entertainment, especially the band playing Beatles songs.  And the finisher's medals are pretty nice too.

With a few small tweaks, this could be a really great event.  I would sign up for next year's race right this minute if I was promised free pumpkin pie at the finish.  True story.

Now if you want to hear about a truly first-class event, stay tuned for Part 2 of this weekend race report...

Peace. Love. Train.

Happy Pain

It's no secret that runners are kind of a strange breed.  Running is a sport that many people associate with pain, and while it doesn't always hurt, those of us who partake in running do derive some sick sense of satisfaction from an especially difficult or painful effort.  It's a happy sort of pain, though - the pain of hard work and accomplishment.

Since last week was my peak marathon training week, it was time to bring on the happy pain.  I wanted to sufficiently wear my legs out, without injuring them, before beginning my beloved/dreaded taper.  So I logged 30 miles of easy- and moderate-paced running during the weekdays.  And then I had a brilliantly crazy plan to put my pre-fatigued legs to the test over the weekend: 

• A 5k race on Saturday.  Yes, a race race.  An all out, balls to the wall, give it all I've got kind of race. 
• And a ridiculously hilly half-marathon on Sunday...  as part of my 22-mile long run.

I know what you're thinking.  Holy crap, woman, what are you smoking???  Okay, I didn't know you were thinking that. But if you must know, I am not smoking anything.  I am in complete control of my mental faculties.  True story.

So on Saturday morning, I headed down to Pekin to run the Marigold Festival 5k.  It was like déjà vu all over again, because the race was on the same course and had the same race director as the Running With The Saints 5k I ran earlier this year, and my coworker/friend Mike was running it too.  Even the trophies were the same.

Hey, did somebody say "trophies"???

That was all I needed to hear.  I put on my game face.  I was in it to win it.  I didn't know if I would be able to set another PR, since I had just set one two weeks earlier, but I was going to run the best I could and try to score some hardware in the process.

After a short warm-up jog, we lined up for the start.  I knew Mike was shooting for a PR, and I knew what his goal pace was.  I didn't think I could run quite as fast as his goal, so I was fully prepared to watch him run out ahead of me and leave me in his dust.  When the race started, and he didn't pass me, I grew concerned.  I glanced down at my Garmin and saw that I had started off at about a 6:45 pace for the first 1/4 mile.

Oops.

Well that was way too fast.  Far faster than my goal pace, and even Mike's goal pace.  And Mike, who happened to be running just behind me, told me as much.
 

 Running like I'm being chased...

(photo by Stephanie M)

For most of the race, I was aware of Mike running just behind me.  This put a little pressure on me (okay, a lot of pressure).  I didn't want him to rely on me for pacing and then end up falling short of his goal if I died off (as I tend to do in short races).  I pushed on as best I could.  As the frontrunners started coming back the opposite direction from the hairpin turn, I was vaguely aware that there were three females ahead of me, and none of them looked to be in my age group (although you can never really be sure with runners).  If I could hang on, I stood a very good chance at earning some hardware.

With about 1/4 mile left to go and the finish line in sight, Mike dropped the hammer and finally passed me.  I experienced feelings of intense pride (since I am his running coach and I knew he was about to PR), mixed with feelings of intense nausea (since I was accelerating for a finishing kick myself).

I watched Mike cross the finish in 23:04 - his best time by nearly 2 minutes. And I stumbled across the finish shortly thereafter, in 23:13 - a PR by 23 seconds.  Considering my previous PR was set just two weeks earlier, this was pretty significant. I was ecstatic!  I checked my splits and was pleased to see 7:16, 7:42, and 7:18.  The middle mile was a killer (it was mostly uphill), but I somehow managed to speed back up for the final mile.  And for the last 0.1 mile I managed to kick it up to a 6:50 pace.  I was very pleased with how I ran.

But wait; there's more!  I also won the Female 30-39 age group.  And that meant a shiny trophy for me.  Score!!!

First place, biznitches!!!  Is it just me, or does the trophy figure look like she's bowling instead of running?

You would think that running a 5k PR would be enough happy pain for one weekend.  And normally you would be right.  But I needed to get in 20+ miles on Sunday, and I sure didn't want to run it alone.  I knew a lot of fellow FASTies and Stashies were running the IVS Half Marathon in the beautiful Springdale Cemetery, and I thought it would be fun to incorporate this race into my long run. (I use the word "fun" loosely here.)  My plan was to run 6-7 miles before the half-marathon, run the half, and then run 1-2 miles afterward, giving me a total of 20-22 miles.

I stumbled out of bed at 4am and had a light breakfast and some much-needed coffee.  Then, at 5:20, despite the fact that I really wanted to crawl into bed and go back to sleep, I headed out the door and enjoyed one of the most peaceful runs I've had in a very long time.  I donned my headlamp and reflective vest, and ran all over the still-sleeping town under a starry night sky, with the full moon slowly sinking toward the western horizon.  I saw Orion to the south, and the big dipper to the north.  All was quiet, except for chirping crickets, my own easy breathing, and my gentle footfalls on the road.  The air was crisp and cool.  I felt like I could run forever.  I really hoped that feeling would continue, because I had a lot more miles to cover yet that morning.

After logging just over 7 miles on my own, I headed to the half-marathon start as the sun was starting to come up.  I had never run the IVS Half-Marathon before, but I have run in Springdale Cemetery enough to know that there were going to be a lot of hills.

Hills?  More happy pain, right?  Bring it.

As runners lined up at the start, we had a brief moment of silence in remembrance of 9-11.  Then it was time for the national anthem, but for whatever reason, the sound system wasn't cooperating and the music wouldn't play.  In a beautiful display of unity and patriotism, all the runners, volunteers and spectators began singing The Star-Spangled Banner, sans accompaniment, perfectly on-key.  It was better than any pre-recorded version of the song ever could have been. 

Then we were off.

The half-marathon course consists of two identical 6.55-mile loops through the cemetery.  The first loop is hilly but beautiful.  The second loop is brutally mountainous and never-ending.  Yes, the loops are identical on paper.  But they are not the same when you're actually running them. 

 After the first loop, I still felt pretty good.  This feeling would not last.

(Photo by Becky T)

My goal was to at least run even splits.  I didn't really care much what my pace was since it was just part of a training run for me, as long as my pace didn't slip in the 2nd loop.  This made the 2nd loop a right pain in the ass.  And the quads.  And the calves.  And the hamstrings. 

Pain.everywhere.

As I climbed all those hills a second time, I cursed myself for thinking this was a good idea.  Who, in their right mind, runs an uber-hilly half-marathon as part of a 20+-mile training run? 

Clearly, I'm not in my right mind. 

It was nice the way the course wound through the cemetery in  way that allowed you to pass by runners both ahead of and behind you, going the opposite direction.  So every time I ran past a fellow FASTie or Stashie, I got a little mental boost.  I tried not to think about the fact that when I was at Mile 9 of the race, I was actually at Mile 16 of my long run. I also tried not to think about the fact that the sun was getting hot.  My calves screamed with every steep uphill climb, and my quads protested with every steep downhill descent.  "Happy" pain, my foot!!!  All I wanted was to be done with the hills.  Fortunately, the final mile and a half are mostly a gentle downhill, and I was able to cruise into the finish with renewed vigor. 

 Did I say the course was hilly?  I meant freakin' mountainous.  Over 1,000 ft of climb (and descent).  My quads still haven't forgiven me.

With a finish time of 2:05:51, my third fastest half-marathon ever, I was very pleased.  I expected to be closer to 2:10 or 2:15, given the hilliness of the course.  Even better, I exceeded my goal of running even splits, running the first half in 1:03:20 and the second half in 1:02:31.  No wonder my legs were weeping!

I had run just over 20 miles so far.  But I really wanted to get to 22.  I reset my Garmin and headed back down the path toward the cemetery for another couple miles.  It was very tough at that point.  I didn't get anywhere near the steep hills, but my legs shook with fear.  Or fatigue.  Probably a bit of both.  I ran past other runners who were on the home stretch, and I gave them all a "Good job; you're almost there!"  Then I turned around and started heading back, and people started telling me "Good job; you're almost there!"  They thought I was just finishing the half-marathon, but I was actually just finishing an epic (for me) day, weekend, and week of running. 

A hilly half-marathon, a 5k PR, and a 56-mile training week - good job, indeed.  I had accomplished everything I set out to accomplish in my peak week of marathon training, and much more.  Yes, it was definitely all happy pain.

You all know what this means, though.  Now that my peak training week is over, it's time for... 

TAPER MADNESS  *scream*

You have been warned.

Peace. Love. Train.

And THAT'S how we defend our title...

Anyone who knows me personally knows I have a pretty serious fear of shorter-distance races right now. 5k, 1 mile, 4 mile, 3 mile... they all terrify me to my very core. Yes, I realize this is somewhat irrational for someone who routinely runs 8+ miles per day and 14+ mile long runs. But the amount of pain and suffering required for a short race is, in my opinion, much much greater than that required for, say, a half-marathon or marathon. I have realized, however, that in order to be a more well-rounded runner, I need to face my fears and, occasionally, run 'til I very nearly puke. I am much more agreeable to doing this if there is a potential for winning hardware.

And so this past Saturday, I headed north to the small town of Lacon to attempt to run really fast at the Marshall County Old Settlers' 5k race.

Those of you who have read my blog for a while may recall I secretly ran this race last year, and I managed to both PR and win 2nd place in my age group. Not only that, but fellow FASTie Kristi also secretly ran this race last year and placed 2nd in her age group as well. We both kinda-sorta really wanted to defend our 2nd place statuses in 2011. Neither of us were planning to try to PR, considering we had a 20-mile long run the very next day, but we figured we could at least place in our respective age groups without completely killing ourselves. So we both showed up in lovely Lacon, ready to take some names and kick some ass.

Wait. Did I say that out loud? Oopsie! What I meant to say was, we showed up in lovely Lacon to run a leisurely 5k and enjoy the post-race food and festivities.

Right.

Kristi and I did a short warm-up jog and then headed to the starting line. As we were walking, we were quietly assessing our competition. Yeah, Coach Brad always says to "run for fun and personal bests", yadda yadda yadda. Because, apparently, it's not all about the hardware. But what Coach Brad doesn't realize is that one of the funnest things about racing a 5k is winning hardware. Because, let's face it, the actual running part sure ain't any fun. No, the running part of a 5k really sucks. So I was fully intent on running "for fun" this day, where fun = winning shiny medals/trophies.

I find that in races like these, it's best to make the competition a little nervous before the race starts. You know, plant the seeds of doubt in their minds. Kristi and I stationed ourselves out in front of the starting line and did a variety of impressive-looking dynamic warm-up moves. Not only were these moves good for our legs, but I'm sure they made us look like Olympic track athletes getting ready to crouch in the starting blocks. If there had been starting blocks available, I totally would've used them. They could've given me a 5 or 6 tenths of a second advantage! Plus, I would've looked like a really serious runner. (As if the dynamic warm-up moves didn't make me look serious enough.) (And by serious, of course I mean ridiculous.)

We toed the line (sans starting blocks) with about 100 other runners and walkers, and when the flag dropped to signify the race start, I took off like one of those Diet Coke and Mentos bottle rocket things. That is to say: really fast... at first. This may not have been the best course of action, considering the first 3/4 mile is a steady uphill. Kristi was right beside me. Usually she's waaaay ahead of me, so I knew I was probably running a teeny little bit faster than I had intended.

First mile: 7:31

Uhhh yeah. That was a lot faster than I had intended. I had planned to run at about my PR pace of 7:45. Whoops. If I could hold onto that 7:31 pace, it would be a pretty impressive new PR. The problem was that I could not hold onto that pace on this hilly course. What followed that first uphill mile was a slow and steady death. 7:31. 7:36, 7:50... Need.life.support.now...

My legs just got heavier and heavier, my breathing became more labored, and with every step I ran, I wanted more and more to just stop. I did not plan to run this race all-out like that, but apparently I am unable to hold back when presented with a race situation where there is hardware at stake. In the back of my mind, I briefly worried about how my hard effort this day would affect my 20-mile long run the next day. The smart thing to do would've been to back off a bit and save something for the long run. My oxygen-starved brain was incapable of that sort of high-level logic, however, and I continued to push at maximum intensity. My thoughts became smaller and smaller until I was only able to process one- or two-word thoughts. My stream of consciousness sounded a lot like "Ouch... Hate.... Never again... Hurts... Why... Death soon... Must puke..."

As I rounded the final turn of the course, I relished the fact that it was literally all downhill from there. I flew through the final 0.1 miles at a blistering 6:43 pace and finished strong. Then I spent the next 30 seconds trying not to throw up (and fortunately for the finish line volunteers, I was successful).

I knew I had just PR'd because I had been vaguely aware that the race clock read 23:something when I finished, and I had never run sub-24:00 in a 5k before. A quick glance at my Garmin confirmed this - 23:39. I was pleased as punch! It made all the suffering instantly worthwhile. I was eager to see the official race results, and find out where I had placed.

While Kristi and I waited for the results to be posted, we enjoyed the post-race smorgasbord of goodies: bananas, grapes, brownies, cookies, rice krispie treats, Subway sandwiches, and ice cold bottled water, among other things. This small town race really knows how to make runners feel better after they have suffered for 20-some minutes.

After I had eaten far more calories worth of cookies and brownies than I could have possibly burned in 3.1 miles of running, the results were posted. I rushed over to the bulletin board to check them out. I let out a squeal of delight when I saw my official time of 23:36. A wonderful new PR, by almost 30 seconds! And then I nearly peed my pants with excitement when I saw that both Kristi and I had won our age groups.

First place, baby! BOOYAH!!!

I can't believe how much we rule.

And what of our 20-mile long run the next day?

No joke, it was the best 20 mile training run I have ever had. It certainly helped that the weather was perfect. But the route we ran, which took us literally from one side of Peoria to the other, and through various parts in between, was a difficult route with a lot of hills. Kristi and I didn't really expect to be running very fast even in good weather. So imagine our surprise when, after running the first 3 miles at about a 10:00 pace, we knocked out mile after mile at a sub-10:00 pace while feeling pretty darn good. We negative split the 20 miles, and our last mile was our strongest, at a 9:13 pace. Average pace over 20 miles? 9:45. It was the first time I had ever run any distance greater than 15 miles at a pace under 10:00. Not only that, but we felt fantastic for having just run such a speedy 20 miles. It was a far cry from just a year and a half ago when I was doing long runs at a 12:00+ pace and spending the rest of the day feeling beat up and exhausted.

So I officially proclaimed Kristi and myself to be a couple of bad-ass rockstar runners. We raced a 5k hard and won 1st place awards, and we ran a really strong 20-miler all in the same weekend. I am sure Nike will be calling us any day now to offer us a rockin' sponsorship deal.

Well, either them... or Walmart.

Peace. Love. Train.