And, just like that, the 2018 season is (for all intents and purposes) over. What started back in February (well, ok, last July, if you count the exceptionally dumb idea to sign up for Ironman) is now over. After 8 months of training, an Olympic tri, an Ironman, an Ultra marathon, half marathon, smaller assorted runs, and a marathon, 2018 is done. Finitio. And lest I go all Henry David Thoreau and start rhapsodizing about enlightenment in the woods pain cave, I'll just step back and talk about what you really came to hear about- the last race of the season - Green Mountain Marathon! (we got time for pithiness later - you know me).
As you all know, I went into this race with the rage of a woman scorned by a season that has evaded her (don't mess with women triathletes - we are vicious beasts). In a year where I felt more in shape than ever in my life, a decent time seemed like the mythical white walker - a slave to the elements with the ability to crush my pathetic human soul. My lone PR was during the run segment of the Keuka Tri - a respectable new 10k PR, but also pathetic in light of the fact that it happened during a tri. (Of course, if I haven't raced a stand alone 10k in years, I'm not sure when I would expect a PR otherwise.) Enough. I started out with the goal to go under 4, then on a reckless night of race research, decided to try to BQ. This was slightly laughable as I needed to take 18 minutes off my time, and the Boston gods decided to make a larger mockery out of me by changing the standards to a 3:35 for my age group - which - if I can't run a stand alone half in 1:47:30, that goal might have to be a few years away.
Fine. 3:45. I can do that. I had a pretty awesome 12 week training stretch, ended with a freak injury in the last week to wreck my knee, and enough work induced stress in the last month to drive me to the point of over training (easy runs are not easy when pissed off at the man. My fault). With this in mind, I headed out to Vermont with Greg to see if I could at least go under 4 and redeem my pathetic attempts at salvaging the season.
My cousin Noah lives in Winooski, which was about 20 minutes away from the race. He gave us a place to crash, brought us hiking the day before the race, and took us to the best Italian restaurant with to die for meatballs the night before the race. He even lent me his Guy on A Buffalo mug, which makes him my coolest relation ever (he also hiked the PCT. Twice. He is amazing. And he thinks I'm crazy!)
He was super familiar with the course, and gave me some great recon, like - watch out for dinosaurs. The fairy houses are pretty. The dirt roads suck. And if you thought this race was flat, you're an idiot. He likened it to Lake Placid - which freaked me the hell out. At that point, I started the fine sabotage effort pre race of trying things like having a beer. Bringing out my new bun huggers I got for my birthday last week that I had never run in. Ever. Not even two miles. Sleeping on the floor. Trying to steal his cinnamon bun for a pre race breakfast. All in the effort to jinx my race that I was scared out of my mind for.
I did a fine job, not drinking enough the day before, see above for sleep, but I did manage to talk myself out of potential chafe insanity by wearing my standbys, thank goodness. Race morning we were up and at em, Noah drove us to the site, and the sun was rising with the promise of a perfect day. After 6 potty stops (think I made up for my lack of drinking Saturday) I stripped down to shorts, a throwaway long sleeve shirt I've been trying to ditch since 2009, and stuffed my gu's down my bra cause at least having boobs is good for something I'm classy like that.
The temps were in the mid 50s with a decent cross wind, but the views were epic. We started a quarter mile away from the finish line (race was sort of out and back with some random turns) and amid little fanfare, the 400 runners were off!!
The first few miles were pretty weird - I was cold as hell, couldn't feel my feet, and was pretty sure 26 was the worst number anyone ever invented. At mile 2, we went down a huge hill that I knew would also be mile 24, but I feigned ignorance and lived in the moment. The wind was actually pretty wicked and I tried to tuck in behind some tall dudes, who didn't exude much gentlemanly charm, and I quickly ditched them. My watch ticked off anywhere form 7:50-8:10 miles, which I felt pretty good about. Saw Noah and his girlfriend at mile 2 and mile 8, and gave a big thumbs up. The course had Gatorade and water every two miles, so I did a cup of each, and chased a gel at mile 6.
At mile 10, I was averaging an 8:15 pace, and I started to flag a bit - shook out, did my first power walk up a hill, and moved on. The middle part of the course was all rollers, but a decent amount of it was on dirt road with potholes and rocks, which was not the stuff dreams were made of. We hit pavement again at mile 12, where I ditched my throwaway shirt and downed my second gel, which was mocha gu. THIS WAS A GIANT MISTAKE. I routinely eat with the grace of Joey Chestnut, and this was no exception. Do you know what chocolate gu looks like on your hands, face and race tank? Yeah, I'll just let that image simmer. It wasn't pretty. Thankfully they had a water stop at the turnaround, so I hosed off and lost that fresh poop look which gave my fellow runners one less reason to avoid me. Phew.
Speaking of the turnaround, I hit it with a new half marathon PR, which was either really good, or really bad. The first half of the race was definitely more downhill than the return (Looking at you, Lake Placid), so I knew a negative split was not only laughable, but pretty much an impossibility on my part. As I turned around, we started to run back toward the lake and I finally got to see more of what made this race so damn awesome. Even though my calves were shot and my niggling hip twinges were getting noticeable, I was treated to the amazing sights of the Green Mountains, the foliage, wineries (no, I didn't stop), and amazing farms. At mile 15 there was a wonky turn (which I later found out many people missed and ran an extra mile), but luckily I did NOT have a repeat of The Lakeshore Marathon and chose the correct path. Post turn we travelled back onto dirt road and, as a worthy consolation prize, were treated to this:
Perfection. The next 5 miles were run quite close to Lake Champlain and saved me. The hills were bigger, the wind a firm headwind, but the scenery was amazing. This is why I run. This is why I am SO LUCKY to be able to run. I thanked my good fortune to be out there, breathing in the air and living life to it's fullest. Hit mile 20 in 2:53 and knew that a sub 4 was totally possible, even if I ran 10 minute miles. I was averaging 9:15's running most of it and walking the steep part of the hills. Saw Noah, Greg and Noah's girlfriend and her friend at mile 21 and yelled "It's a great day to PR!!" - even though I was legit in pain, I reminded myself that I had less than an hour to go and six months post race to be comfortable. It was my time. LET'S DO IT.
Mile 22 and 23 were pretty uneventful - hit mile 23 in 3:24 and I knew I could swing a 10 minute mile for 5k so I started to think a PR really was in the books. Then I saw them.
Holy shit. A friggin brontosaurus. There was a whole damn forest of dinosaurs amid fairy houses right on the side of the road that I missed on the way out, which was hilarious and totally not a surprise at all, seeing as there were probably also some magical plants amidst the beasts, being Vermont and all. I didn't stick around to get the munchies, though - I had places to go. Saw my crew one more time and Greg advised me to stay strong up the final hill. I flipped him the bird, as I am totally a mature adult, and kept on going.
Mile 24 sucked donkey balls. There is no other way to put it. Somehow in the last 3 hours, the damn hill on the way out grew twice its size and resembled either Barracks Hill Rd in Geneva or Rich Clark hill in Placid, or, more accurately, a fine shitty mix of both. I alternated 100 paces walking and 100 paces running, like a woman on a mission, which I was. Mile 25. 3:43. 2016 PR, you are toast. I turned the final corner and headed it in, passing two women in the final mile, stopping for nothing, and finished strong in 3:43:42, a 5 minute PR on a course I had no business PRing on.
Post race I completely collapsed in my husband's arms, a hot, happy mess. Drank my ritual diet coke (shut up. I know.) Headed back to Noah's to shower. And then drove 6 hours home, stopping for some sad McDonald's en route. Don't let the post race lack of fanfare fool you - I am a happy happy girl. I ended up 14th woman and 27th overall, with a pace of 8:53 for 26.2 miles (I ran 26.3, which in my book, was pretty damn good). The pace floors me - if you would have ever told me I could average under 9 minute miles for a marathon, I would have laughed at you.
Boston. You are mine. Maybe not in 2020. But SOON.
All in all, I would consider the weekend a huge success. How can you complain about a brand new marathon PR on a hilly ass course, and a new (albeit by 30 seconds) half marathon PR? I'll take it. Which, if anyone's counting, brings my running PR's for 2018 to 3: 10k, half marathon, and full marathon. I am of course, trying to find a 5k to do in the next 3 weeks to up that ante to a perfect 4.
My tri PRs: big fat zero. So, of course, to celebrate my running successes in 2018, I signed up for my first race in 2019 - Barrelman triathlon, a half ironman in Niagara Falls. Nobody said I was anything resembling intelligent.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be off, learning how not to suck at swimming and riding.
As you all know, I went into this race with the rage of a woman scorned by a season that has evaded her (don't mess with women triathletes - we are vicious beasts). In a year where I felt more in shape than ever in my life, a decent time seemed like the mythical white walker - a slave to the elements with the ability to crush my pathetic human soul. My lone PR was during the run segment of the Keuka Tri - a respectable new 10k PR, but also pathetic in light of the fact that it happened during a tri. (Of course, if I haven't raced a stand alone 10k in years, I'm not sure when I would expect a PR otherwise.) Enough. I started out with the goal to go under 4, then on a reckless night of race research, decided to try to BQ. This was slightly laughable as I needed to take 18 minutes off my time, and the Boston gods decided to make a larger mockery out of me by changing the standards to a 3:35 for my age group - which - if I can't run a stand alone half in 1:47:30, that goal might have to be a few years away.
My cousin Noah lives in Winooski, which was about 20 minutes away from the race. He gave us a place to crash, brought us hiking the day before the race, and took us to the best Italian restaurant with to die for meatballs the night before the race. He even lent me his Guy on A Buffalo mug, which makes him my coolest relation ever (he also hiked the PCT. Twice. He is amazing. And he thinks I'm crazy!)
 |
| Flat Rae. I ditched the new shorts. Thank God. |
I did a fine job, not drinking enough the day before, see above for sleep, but I did manage to talk myself out of potential chafe insanity by wearing my standbys, thank goodness. Race morning we were up and at em, Noah drove us to the site, and the sun was rising with the promise of a perfect day. After 6 potty stops (think I made up for my lack of drinking Saturday) I stripped down to shorts, a throwaway long sleeve shirt I've been trying to ditch since 2009, and stuffed my gu's down my bra cause a
The temps were in the mid 50s with a decent cross wind, but the views were epic. We started a quarter mile away from the finish line (race was sort of out and back with some random turns) and amid little fanfare, the 400 runners were off!!
 |
| Mile 5. Boy, Vermont is ugly. |
At mile 10, I was averaging an 8:15 pace, and I started to flag a bit - shook out, did my first power walk up a hill, and moved on. The middle part of the course was all rollers, but a decent amount of it was on dirt road with potholes and rocks, which was not the stuff dreams were made of. We hit pavement again at mile 12, where I ditched my throwaway shirt and downed my second gel, which was mocha gu. THIS WAS A GIANT MISTAKE. I routinely eat with the grace of Joey Chestnut, and this was no exception. Do you know what chocolate gu looks like on your hands, face and race tank? Yeah, I'll just let that image simmer. It wasn't pretty. Thankfully they had a water stop at the turnaround, so I hosed off and lost that fresh poop look which gave my fellow runners one less reason to avoid me. Phew.
Speaking of the turnaround, I hit it with a new half marathon PR, which was either really good, or really bad. The first half of the race was definitely more downhill than the return (Looking at you, Lake Placid), so I knew a negative split was not only laughable, but pretty much an impossibility on my part. As I turned around, we started to run back toward the lake and I finally got to see more of what made this race so damn awesome. Even though my calves were shot and my niggling hip twinges were getting noticeable, I was treated to the amazing sights of the Green Mountains, the foliage, wineries (no, I didn't stop), and amazing farms. At mile 15 there was a wonky turn (which I later found out many people missed and ran an extra mile), but luckily I did NOT have a repeat of The Lakeshore Marathon and chose the correct path. Post turn we travelled back onto dirt road and, as a worthy consolation prize, were treated to this:
 |
| This is what it's all about. |
 |
| Mile 21. Do it, bitch. |
Holy shit. A friggin brontosaurus. There was a whole damn forest of dinosaurs amid fairy houses right on the side of the road that I missed on the way out, which was hilarious and totally not a surprise at all, seeing as there were probably also some magical plants amidst the beasts, being Vermont and all. I didn't stick around to get the munchies, though - I had places to go. Saw my crew one more time and Greg advised me to stay strong up the final hill. I flipped him the bird, as I am totally a mature adult, and kept on going.
Mile 24 sucked donkey balls. There is no other way to put it. Somehow in the last 3 hours, the damn hill on the way out grew twice its size and resembled either Barracks Hill Rd in Geneva or Rich Clark hill in Placid, or, more accurately, a fine shitty mix of both. I alternated 100 paces walking and 100 paces running, like a woman on a mission, which I was. Mile 25. 3:43. 2016 PR, you are toast. I turned the final corner and headed it in, passing two women in the final mile, stopping for nothing, and finished strong in 3:43:42, a 5 minute PR on a course I had no business PRing on.
Post race I completely collapsed in my husband's arms, a hot, happy mess. Drank my ritual diet coke (shut up. I know.) Headed back to Noah's to shower. And then drove 6 hours home, stopping for some sad McDonald's en route. Don't let the post race lack of fanfare fool you - I am a happy happy girl. I ended up 14th woman and 27th overall, with a pace of 8:53 for 26.2 miles (I ran 26.3, which in my book, was pretty damn good). The pace floors me - if you would have ever told me I could average under 9 minute miles for a marathon, I would have laughed at you.
Boston. You are mine. Maybe not in 2020. But SOON.
All in all, I would consider the weekend a huge success. How can you complain about a brand new marathon PR on a hilly ass course, and a new (albeit by 30 seconds) half marathon PR? I'll take it. Which, if anyone's counting, brings my running PR's for 2018 to 3: 10k, half marathon, and full marathon. I am of course, trying to find a 5k to do in the next 3 weeks to up that ante to a perfect 4.
My tri PRs: big fat zero. So, of course, to celebrate my running successes in 2018, I signed up for my first race in 2019 - Barrelman triathlon, a half ironman in Niagara Falls. Nobody said I was anything resembling intelligent.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be off, learning how not to suck at swimming and riding.
Congrats on your dual PRs!
ReplyDeleteThank you!!!
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