And just like that, it's over. All the weeks of training and preparation, some of the runs being quite grueling, and in 1 hour and 57 minutes it's over. Not that I'm complaining that it went by that fast :) (Picture above is me in the orange shirt and white jacket around the waist crossing the finish line.)
My alarm went off at 5am on Saturday. I laid there for a few minutes, then easily got out of bed, got dressed, and took my time eating breakfast and drinking a large McDonald's coffee. I ended up wearing the full fleece jacket, deciding that I would rather be overdressed in the beginning anyway--turns out I wasn't overdressed at all. Mom drove me downtown and I jumped out of the car on West Street, made a quick potty break before the lines to the port-a-pots grew to almost 13.1 miles themselves, and then walked a few laps up and down Washington Street to warm up my muscles. I finally made my way to Corral G and saw my mom leaning over the corral fence scanning the crowd. I was quite surprised since her original plan was to stay inside in the warmth until it was time for me to finish. Like I said before, she's the best :) After what seemed like an eternity of the wind blowing, I was thankful for the race to start just to get some blood flowing and warm up. It was only after I crossed the start line that I realized how much of the wind had actually been blocked by that massive new hotel on West and Washington. Now we were out of the shields of downtown buildings, and it was fierce! My first mile took 10 minutes...not bad since the first one is traditionally the slowest as you are making your way through the bottleneck and the crowd slowly starts to separate by pace. My highlight of race, other than the obvious ones, was seeing an elephant from the zoo, surprisingly close to us looking right at all the runners--it was like he was silently cheering us on and at the same time bewildered by it all. My first mile last year was 12 minutes, so I was ahead of that pace, but still needed to pick up my speed. It naturally happened; I only looked at my time at the mile markers, and each one was consistently 9 minutes. It's a great feeling to know that your body is learning to pace itself and pick one speed that feels comfortable--challenging but sustainable for a distance race. It occurred to me after these few miles of a solid 9-minute pace that THIS is my new speed...10 minutes per mile is no longer my norm. So long to the 6.0 mph that I always thought defined my running and hello to the 6.7 mph that I averaged for the whole race.
By mile 2, I was getting really warm and even starting to sweat. I knew if I took my jacket off completely I would still be too cold, then I had the genius idea to just unzip it a little bit--it had been zipped up practically to my chin. That made a world of difference--I still had the jacket as an outer shell of wind-protection but I had the best breeze blowing in. I never took the jacket off completely until mile 10.
The first 2 miles, as always, were the most awkward and uncomfortable feeling for my legs, but by mile 3 I felt great. Pace was down pat, form was set, and I was enjoying all the sights. I mentally divided up the race into thirds: the leg leading to the speedway, the 2.5 miles around the 500 track, then the leg back to the finish line. The first third of the race came so quickly. I entered the speedway with a feeling of dread--race fans may feel differently, but running 2.5 miles in a big counter-clockwise circle of black asphalt is not all it's cracked up to be. It does, however, make you realize how fast the Indy cars are!! It was when I hit mile 7 and my time was only at 1:03 (still a perfect 9-minute pace) that I knew, unless something drastic happened, I would break 2 hours. Around mile 8, which was inside the track, my knees were starting to ache, but I just told myself it wouldn't affect my speed at all, and it didn't.
The last leg of the race was by far the hardest, specifically miles 10 on. My left shoulder was starting to ache and the cardio effects started to catch up--before that, it was like my body didn't even know that it was running, it was so high on adrenaline and so well-trained for the job. Knowing that I could slow down slightly and still get under 2 hours was a relief. I don't think I ever ran any miles slower than 9 minutes, but having that safety net was nice.
At the last half mile where most people pick up speed, I didn't even feel the need. My goal was already met, so my options were to either sprint and be in pain or just enjoy the steps up to the finish line. I chose the latter and I'm glad because I was able to pick out my mom standing at the very front of the bleachers on New York Street, again leaning over the fence and scanning the crowd. I didn't know if she would know I had a bright orange shirt on under the white jacket that I took off. I was on the other side of the street, but I started waving to her, and after about 5 seconds, she recognized me. Seeing her face light up and the enthusiasm behind her wave meant the world to me. I hit the finish line at 1:57. It could have been 1 hour and ANY number of minutes and I would have felt equally as happy. My silent goal, the one that I was scared to admit even to myself, was accomplished. It was one of those things where as often as people kept saying "Oh I'm sure you'll break 2 hours if you hit a 2:05 during training," I didn't want to be greedy with my goals. My original mission was to beat 2:15, let us not forget. It became apparent to me as I progressed further into training that beating that wouldn't be a problem, again unless something drastic or unforeseen happened during the race. Maybe anything less than 2 hours just sounded too good to be true--at least for it only being my second Mini. Lesson number 897 in my life of not underestimating myself.
I felt great after the race. My hamstrings and low back were sore and tight, but nothing beyond that, except being wet and now brutally cold. I met up with my mom who was so thrilled for me. She was literally there for my entire race--the key moments of the start and finish anyway. We walked a couple blocks to stop by a post-mini tailgate and "redhydration" party (i.e. beer) put on by a fitness center member from work. I was freezing, but still relished that post-run beer simply for the fact that I've never done that before. (As a side note, I read in Runners World magazine once that it is completely natural for runners to crave a beer after a hard workout for the carb-replacement that it offers, as well it being cold and refreshing.)
As we were comparing stories/times, one guy said "Good for you..you said you would finish around 2 hours, and you beat that!" I replied, "Yes I'm very happy, considering my real goal had been to beat my last year's time of 2:15." He looked at me and goes "You got a 2:15 last year??" with the tone of his voice implying he was soooo above running a slow time like 2:15 (even though I knew that's not how he meant it to come across). And he finished with, "Well I would say you blew that goal out of the water!! By EIGHTEEN whole minutes!" I thought to myself, when you put it that way, that's a LOT of time for a runner to shave off! He made another comment that I thought was pretty funny, "I just assumed you had been running the mini for years--I mean I see you in the fitness center working out like a banchee!" I chuckled at that impression of me. I knew upon starting this blog, that some people who only see me in that setting or in certain roles would find it hard to believe I stress out about anything fitness related--but yes, I'm human :) Finally, this guy asked, "So what's the next goal? Or are you where you want to be?" Good question.
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