Five years ago, I decided to run my first marathon. With that marathon came the desire to join the elite running crowd who qualify for the Boston Marathon. Disappointment after disappointment and injury after injury, that goal was set aside.
Time after time.
After time.
I decided that my running game plan was not working. I was reminded of the definition of insanity, "doing the same thing time after time and expecting different results". So in May 2013 after another poor race, I decided to change my whole paradigm of running.
I read several articles and books and thought I would implement their suggestions. I had nothing to lose. It couldn't get any worse.
First, I stopped racing and recovered from every injury I had. Second, I started strength training. Then I started to run. I cut my miles way back and ran slow. Every fourth week, I reduced my miles even more and called it a rest week.
After a few weeks, if everything felt good and there was no lingering injury, I increased my mileage a little. More weight lifting. More stretching. Another rest week. No injuries - a few more miles.
My training friends were qualifying for Boston left and right, but I was just running. Though my heart said "I should have raced with them and I would have qualified too".......my head, told me I made the right decision. The right decision to train slow and smart...to not rush through another training cycle and get another injury. But to take as much time as my body needs to adjust to the incessant pounding. To get stronger.
I told myself I wanted to train this "right" way for years and years, but always after the next race. Which turned into the next race...then the next next next race. I finally stopped the unsuccessful cycle.
The St George Half Marathon was my first race of the 2014 season. I'm finally putting my new training regime to the test. I've been working on it for 7.5 months. I've run more miles than I've ever run in my life.
My Boston qualifying time is a 3:40 or an 8:23 mile. I really wanted to be able to run an 8:23 mile (or a 1:50) for the race today. I knew it would give me the mental boost that I could run that fast. But also, that I would have enough time to get more speed and endurance to be ready to run that pace for 26.2 miles in May.
 |
| On my way to St George |
I had a good friend who was the 1:50 pacer and another friend who was the 1:45 pacer this morning. I knew both ladies had plenty of race experience and had enough guts to chew me out if I started to slack.
The gun went off and it was time to hit the road "JACK". I stayed with the 1:50 pacer until mile 4.5. I was extremely hesitant to pull away so early in the race but thought I could maybe catch the 1:45 pacer. But tried to keep my pace and breathing consistent.
I saw our good friends, the MacDonald family, at mile 5 and was thrilled to have cheering squad out there for me. I continued to climb and climb and climb through the streets of Bluffdale. My legs started to feel heavy and my gut started to hurt.
 |
| My good friends, the MacDonald family, took this picture at mile 5. |
After conquering the final hill at mile 7 (there was an ambulance waiting at the top....that is how big of a hill it was), I decided I needed to find my TRUE GRIT. It does not matter how well I start the race. But it does matter how I finish. How far can I dig into my reserve of motivational thoughts, songs, movies....how can I overcome the demons screaming on my shoulder that I am not ready to do this.....how badly do I REALLY want this. DESIRE is a force to be reckoned with.
I took my last drink at the mile 11 aide station and knew I only had 16-17 minutes of running left. I would look at other runner's shorts and try to catch them. "Catch the purple shorts" "Catch the black shorts". One by one they became roadkill.
But I was in puke zone. And I had to pee. I could only hold so many bodily functions in at once. My legs were tired. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS". I'm gonna pee my pants. Here come the pukes....swallow. "YOU STILL HAVE ONE MILE TO GO...IT'S TOO FAR TO HANG ON". My feet hurt. Catch the blue shorts. Ohhhhh....I have to pee so bad. My arms feel like bricks.
Just when I thought I couldn't hang on for another second, I see the finish line. Then comes the overwhelming emotions of the balloon arch, the fuzziness of the spectator faces, fist pumps, cow bells, and the clock that silently screams 1:46:47 (8:09 mile).
4 minutes faster than my goal.
9 minute course PR.
The pukes go away, the rocks on the asphalt start to focus, a stranger puts a medal around my neck. and the flood of emotions start pumping through all the veins in my body. I wish I could bottle it up and sell it as Walter White sells his goodness. It would be more powerful than his blue meth.
 |
| These amazing ladies tell me I can do it and today I believe them. Love you LPL's! |
I don't know how the rest of my season is going to turn out. It may all be for naught and come crashing down. I don't know.
I hope to recover smart and continue with my marathon training. I need to work on my mental toughness the most. I need to regularly practice digging into that cave of pain. To get comfortable there. To learn that it can only hurt to a certain point. And I WILL live through it. Hopefully, that will get me my blue jacket.
2014....CONQUER DEMONS AND CHASING DREAMS
