Running has it's streaks. Last month had the big accomplishment of logging all those miles and a PR in a 5K. This month, one head cold and a couple of bad runs, it feels like everything is lost. It shouldn't be that way, but at least for me the mental side plays a huge part. Even though I know full well being sick is going to effect performance, two bad runs and self doubt creeps in. Add to the mix CT is now injured, it was an uneasy feeling standing at the starting line of the Martian Half Marathon. Previous best half was 1:46. My shaken confidence goal predicted a 1:40-1:42 finish. CT, now turned coach, wanted me to get a 1:38! Is she crazy? Well, of course she is, that is her first name.
1:38? To put that in some perspective, that's averaging seven and a half minute miles for 13.1 miles. While not anything close to elite fast, that's damn fast in my book. Through this marathon training, I've been hovering right around eight minute miles. When I push it with everything I have, lately I've been sitting right around seven minute fifty second miles for distance runs.
Arrrrttttt goes the air horn to start the race. Just like every race lately, I started too far back. The first turn wasn't much faster than a walk, it did thin out quickly though, by about the half mile point I was running at race pace without having to dodge around. The first few miles were uneventful. I did find my target for this race, it was some guy running with crazy arms, horrible form, and I thought for sure I'd catch him in a mile or two after his spine exploded from his flailing. At about four mile mark, Crazy Arms was actually pulling away from me. Psychologically, that's very depressing. Glancing down at my watch for my pace, I was right at seven and a half minute miles for this impossible 1:38 finish. I didn't understand how the Spaz-man was pulling away from me when I wasn't getting any slower, but I could also feel some fatigue setting in. My plan was to maintain as best I could until the halfway point, then slow down and being happy with that. By six miles, I couldn't even see Arms anymore. I had slowed some, at this point my mile time was creeping above seven and a half by a few seconds.
The route was an out and back, so the closer I got to the halfway point, the more runners were coming back at me. There's that a-hole with the horrid form heading back already! After turning around myself, it did feel good to see Downhill and our other running friend CC. Friendly faces help, but by this time I had already told myself that I had run a good first half, put it in reserve mode and I'd probably end up about with about the time I was expecting.
Then the nine happened. It's been a while since I've felt it. I only distinctly remember it three times, each time it's happened I can remember the exact spot of the road where it started, but the euphoria of runner's high came over me. That spot on mile nine, where it started, all doubt vanished. Whatever grimacing runner's face I had on was replaced with a smile. I wouldn't describe it as suddenly I became indestructible and could run through walls, but it was more a feeling of extreme joy. Suddenly, miles are going by at low seven minute paces. With a mile to go, I was almost a full minute ahead of the 1:38 coach set for me. I knew I had it.
Rounding the final turn into the straight away to the finish line, who do I see, but my target! I hadn't seen that jerk since he passed me on his way back. Two things where on my mind coming down the final stretch, trying to find CT in the crowd and I was going to pass him. Well, I didn't see CT, I hope it was simply because of the speed, but even though it took me twelve miles and runner's high to do it, I passed o'crazy arms. He didn't have a chance. Looking back on it, maybe he never existed, maybe it was all a hallucination from the runner's high. Ponder that one for a while.
1:37:03.4 officially. Nine minutes faster than my previous PR. Three minutes better than I had hoped. A FULL minute better than CT expected even! CT did find me soon after crossing the finish line. After a kiss and her saying how proud she was of me, then the title of this blog entry comes out. As we were waiting for our friends to finish, she tells me how she's been telling everybody around her that it was 1:38 for me or I had to ride in the trunk on the way home! This second part was completely new to me. Part of me wanted to protest, but the other part knows it wouldn't do any good, point is, it made me better.
Getting older, but think this was my best race so far.
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