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.
No comments:
Post a Comment