I signed up for this race a day or two after barely missing my PR at Tyranena. I wasn't ready to leave the season without it. The course boasted "flat and fast" and the starting line was a couple miles from home, so there you have it.
It was high 20s and I was in my new tri shorts, well-worn but lucky long sleeved tech top, hat and gloves. It was chilly but I had a good feeling about this one. I hydrated the heck out of myself all morning to prevent the god-awful Cramp of Tyranena. I even scaled back on the morning coffee and pre-race caffeinated gel.
Mile 1: 8:30 pace. What the? I'm not that fast.
Miles 2-6: 8:30-8:45 pace. Something isn't right. I'm seriously not that fast. Did they measure wrong?
Miles 7-10: 8:45ish pace. Not only am I going to PR, I'm going to CRUSH the 2-hour mark. But whoa. Mile 11 is where I got into trouble at Tyranena. Is that a cramp coming on? Take it easy, girl. Don't push it here.
Miles 11-13: 9:00ish pace. Moderate soreness and such slowed me down, plus the aforementioned fear of hitting some proverbial wall.
Done. PR by over 8 minutes, sub 2 hours by over 5 minutes. I won't bother signing up for another half for awhile, this new PR ain't going nowhere.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Tyranena Beer Run (Half Marathon)--11/8/14
I love this race. The people are friendly, the course is varied and interesting, the post-race food and drink highly motivating, the weather is...weather. I've done Tyranena in bitter cold and bitter colder. I've shed and re-applied and shed layers again. You just never know.
This one was mid-high 30s and partly sunny, which is darn close to my optimal running weather. And the elusive PR was the only thing on my mind. Nutrition dialed in, save a bonus cup of coffee on the drive there. How much damage can it do?
Mile One: 8:45 pace. A little fast, but it'll be fine.
Miles 2-6: Comfortable 9:00-9:15 miles. I'll get this PR if it kills me.
Miles 7-11: Hanging around 9:15--not enough for the Golden sub-2 hours, but plenty of PR cushion.
Mile 11: Cramp. Not a run-through-it cramp. Not a Start-to-limp-a-little cramp. Not even a Stop-to-stretch-it-out-for-a-few-seconds cramp. This was a You're-not-running-anymore-for-awhile cramp. Stretching didn't help. Walking didn't help. The PR was slipping away.
An angel of a spectator offered me her water bottle when she saw my pain. I slammed it and it was just enough to hobble through the final two miles.
I missed the PR by a minute and a half. Bitch.
The spaghetti wasn't even as good as I remember.
On my car was a flyer for Last Call Half Marathon in Waukesha a month later. You better believe I signed up for it.
This one was mid-high 30s and partly sunny, which is darn close to my optimal running weather. And the elusive PR was the only thing on my mind. Nutrition dialed in, save a bonus cup of coffee on the drive there. How much damage can it do?
Mile One: 8:45 pace. A little fast, but it'll be fine.
Miles 2-6: Comfortable 9:00-9:15 miles. I'll get this PR if it kills me.
Miles 7-11: Hanging around 9:15--not enough for the Golden sub-2 hours, but plenty of PR cushion.
Mile 11: Cramp. Not a run-through-it cramp. Not a Start-to-limp-a-little cramp. Not even a Stop-to-stretch-it-out-for-a-few-seconds cramp. This was a You're-not-running-anymore-for-awhile cramp. Stretching didn't help. Walking didn't help. The PR was slipping away.
An angel of a spectator offered me her water bottle when she saw my pain. I slammed it and it was just enough to hobble through the final two miles.
I missed the PR by a minute and a half. Bitch.
The spaghetti wasn't even as good as I remember.
On my car was a flyer for Last Call Half Marathon in Waukesha a month later. You better believe I signed up for it.
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