The Race that Lived

My last post covered through Week 9 of training for the virtual Detroit Marathon. In the weeks that followed, I learned how to create a workout in Garmin Connect and use it on my Forerunner. I did some workouts that intimidated me. I took the training plan one week at a time. The moment the long-range forecast included October 18, I was checking it constantly. My friend Dan and I discussed everything from music preferences to packing lists to logistics. 

Welcome to the (belated) race summary of what turned out to be a silver lining of 2020.

I'll start about a week before the race, when a mysterious box showed up with our mail. I stalked it on the kitchen counter for a while before remembering that my friend Robin had randomly asked for my address about a week before. Robin was one of the first people I met when I moved to Cleveland. My epic injury (long form here), finally taught my stubborn runner brain that cross-training is my friend. When I wanted to start strength training, I turned to Robin. She was amazingly gracious about meeting me where I was, which was step 1. Ground level. Not only clueless about what I was doing, but also...just weak. She cheered me at every step, worked within my limitations and goals, and has been a huge part of my recovery and a damn good friend. With this gift, she cheered me on remotely in the best possible way. <3

Two and a half days pre-race, carb loading started. A very few of you might remember the saga of the day I learned about fueling the hard way. Ever since, I've used a fueling plan I found in Runner's World. You eat more calories than usual, and about 85% of it is carbs. While that sounds like fun, it's hard on digestion. This is what breakfast looks like. You better believe that is the sugary yogurt, too. 

My friend Dan, who had agreed to bike Sherpa my race, was hard at work taking account of his storage capacity for water, food, gear, etc. He asked if I wanted music and I told him I hadn't run with music in years--too many cars, too many dogs. Same for him. But, I told him, if he wanted to play music, I was good with any era of rock other than the song "Blinded by the Light," which I hate powerfully. We talked Gu (so hard to choose!) and figured out how we'd handle water stops. He knows the trail toward Akron well, where I do not. He made sure we picked a starting point that avoided construction and traffic, and that local knowledge is worth its weight in gold.

I checked the weather 583 more times. 

Had it been in person, the race would have started at 7am, so we planned to start at 7am. I had all these jokes ready for the start line, about how like downtown Detroit the Towpath Trail outside Akron is. All that relevant early 20th century commercial architecture! That radial street network! But when I arrived about 6:45am, we were focused on stowing gear and using the bathroom (A REAL BATHROOM!). 

I'm pretty sure Dan had purchased a bigger bag to store gear/supplies/etc for the race, and when I handed him my *actual* handful of stuff to carry, probably either wanted to laugh or cry a little. It consisted of: 

• 2 Gu packets (I had the other 2 in my water bottle)
• 3 baggies of folded up TP (to which he said, "no dude would ever have done this")
• A very small bottle of liquid band aid
• My driver's license, credit card, and med insurance all rubber banded together
• My phone (maybe? not even sure I took it?) and car key

He had packed water for both of us. In the 60-ish seconds he went into the restroom and I was standing alone in the pitch black parking lot, a Jeep came flying into the parking lot, and two guys jumped out of it. I was definitely gauging my distance to my car door for a second, but they took off toward the trail. Dan came back, we took our start line selfie, and headed down toward the trail too. 

It turned out the two guys were cheering for a friend doing a virtual marathon! Chicago, I think. Somewhere else along the way we met someone running the New York marathon. I'd hesitated about wearing the bib the race organizers had sent me because it felt like of cheesy, but in the end, I'm glad I did. It helped create this spirit of community, because the people who are on that path every weekend could ID and support people who were racing. 

I hesitated to start for a moment because...well, it's sort of strange to just start a marathon. No fanfare, no anthem, no gun, no corrals. Just hitting the start button on your Garmin like any Tuesday morning. And we were off! 

Our pre-race discussions about pace had made us realize that cycling and running use different vocabularies. Dan had asked if I anticipated our pace would be over 10mph. I explained that this was not the Olympics, so no, but also that I'd need to do some math to figure out what mph I run. So a lot of our conversation focused on math of where we were, what time we'd be someplace else, and how overall pacing was going. I recognized the spot where a friend had taken a picture the previous day by accident. 

But Dan and I have known each other since 1998 (when I joined the Experience Learning family), so we talked about all sorts of things, too. And that path! Oh man! I don't have any pictures from the path itself, but what a knockout! I really think we got the best possible morning for race day. The foliage was spectacular and, while 5 degrees cooler than ideal for Dan, it was pretty great for running, at about 48 degrees. The path parallels a river and train tracks for long stretches, and forest. Gorgeous. 

When you're training, it sounds INSANE that you are going to run 26.2 miles at an 8:24/mile pace. INSANE. But then, you put in the work, and while you taper, it's like winding up a Jack in the Box, and you carb load, and it fills those glycogen stores, and then, your body really can do precisely the thing you trained it to do. I ran super, super even splits. My first mile was the slowest, at 8:28, as it should be. After that, every mile was between an 8:15 and 8:23 except one a few seconds faster (after which I 100% said what Shalane Flanagan said in New York that day). And for 24 miles it was all just smooth. 

At one point we passed a herd of middle aged guys, a few of whom wore Boston jackets. I told Dan how it was called "chicking." The herd was jovial. We saw a handful of other smaller groups and single runners out. Everyone in good spirits. We passed a spot where a woman had been attacked last year while running. I was incredibly thankful for Dan's company.

At about mile 23.5, we passed the Canal Exploration Center, which was also the planned finish line. I'd invited a small group of folks, mostly runners, to a socially distanced finish line party. Many of them were there when we passed at 23.5. My husband and kids had made signs--a first--and I might have gotten a little choked up about it. 

When my Garmin hit mile 24, I was ready for it to be over. I'd warned Dan that things get dark late in a marathon. Deals are made with devils. Self talk gets desperate. I tried reeeeeeally hard not to verbalize those thoughts, but I had a decidedly grumpy, but on-pace mile. At mile 25 I asked if he would stay behind me, because the bike in my peripheral vision was going to make me motion sick. Then I told him I needed to stop talking, and just "go inside" my head. I needed to put my head down and focus on grinding out the last 1.2. It had always been inevitable--I could feel it coming around mile 17--and it was much better than it usually is, but I was tired.

Know what else isn't easy? Math when you're that tired. So I misjudged our turn-around by a few hundredths of a mile. Coming back toward the finish line, first I saw my friend Laurie standing at the bridge with her cow bell. A welcome sight for sure. I could just see my kids up ahead holding up the finisher ribbon the race organizers had sent. And...my Garmin hit 26.2. I just stopped. My brain couldn't process what to do. Laurie said, "You can't stop. They're waiting for you." I said, "Right!" and clicked it back on and kept going. Four one-hundredths on up and through the finisher tape. 

Then my knees buckled, and I stopped and put my hands on my knees for a minute and tried to calm my breathing and not sob wildly. It was over! My goal was 3:40 and I ran a 3:39:17. My boys were ready with the race medal and the wrap the organizers had sent. Sidebar here: I was crazy impressed with the Detroit Marathon throughout this whole process. They canceled my hotel, contacted me about shipping my race packet, and the social media game was strong. 

My husband was a rock star who ordered this amazing cake, brought every conceivable thing I might want post-race, and made sure we were all fed and happy. Dan's wife and son came, and they brought me flowers. Flowers! I was beyond blown away by all the love and support of my family and friends. That picture above--I am glowing! That's how it all felt. I had a dream, and my friends and family came out, on a bike, at the finish line, and remote, to cheer me on. Masks and all. 

The most bananas part of this is that, because there was no prize money, I won my Detroit Marathon age group. That's crazy. 

In a year where so many races did not happen, this was the day the Towpath turned into Detroit, Chicago, and New York. This was--to borrow from Harry Potter--the race that lived. Was I bummed not to visit Detroit? Not to experience the magic of a big race? Sure. But the race I had was incredible, and probably once in a lifetime. A real highlight, and silver living, of 2020. 

Cleveland Rite Aid Half-Marathon Race Report

On Sunday I toed the line at the Rite Aid Half-Marathon. It truly was coming full circle. In 2011 I ran the full. It was the first time I ever visited Cleveland and I had no idea I'd later move here. Seven years later and here we are, back at that same start line. This is one of those times it's hard to wrap my mind around all the places we've lived and the journey through them all. 

Sunday morning I was up at 4:45 to make sure I got all the way through the routine before leaving to catch the train to downtown at 5:20. The train was surprisingly full--I think I counted ~50 people, and I couldn't see all the way to the back of the second car. The train newbies clutch their singles as they board, because on the Rapid (our train system), you pay when you board when going east, and when you exit when going west, and this is totally unclear unless someone tells you. There is something vaguely charming about the quirkiness of it--of the assumption that people understand it.

When I exited the train at Tower City (the central hub), it was raining, harder than you'd like if you plan to wait outside at the start line. Instead, I found my way to the bathrooms, because indoor permanent restroom > port-a-potty. Then, as I was about to leave to head toward the start, my Sunday morning crew messaged me to stay put, that they were coming into Tower City and we'd just meet there. We hung around about as long as we dared before heading to the start.

As we snuck through an opening in the corral gate, moments before the start, I saw my friend Robin who was there as a volunteer, because she's awesome like that.

Moments later, Cathy, Tina and I were off and headed over the start line. The course wound through downtown and, other than going over some metal grate bridges, was a pretty flat, smooth course. The most noteworthy part of the early miles was another runner.

There was a woman running with a Cleveland Indians flag. A full flag, on a pole that was several feet long. It said Indians and had a picture of the mascot. I've seen people run with Marine Corps flags, and that I understand. But the Indians?! Curiosity got the better of me. "Did you lose a bet?" I asked her jokingly. She glared at me. "Just a big fan of the Indians? Why the flag?" She replied that they are getting rid of the Chief as the mascot and she is protesting.

I blankly stared for a moment and moved back away from her. Come again? I thought. You're running in the rain with a generic Indians flag to protest?! Cathy and I just looked at each other. I mean, if you're gonna protest maybe just make it clear what you're protesting? So Cathy and I talked about how people get too wrapped up in things sometimes.

I was trying to keep us at about a 8:57-9:00 pace throughout, with a planned slower start and to make it up in the middle somewhere. We got wrapped up in the energy of the start, but got into our groove pretty quickly. Here are the mile splits:
Mile 1: 8:36

Mile 2: 8:51

Mile 3: 9:09

Mile 4: 8:40 (we had some downhill)

Mile 5: 8:58

Mile 6: 8:52

In the middle of mile 7 we came around a corner to meet, face-to-face, the course's largest hill. I actually laughed at how unexpected it was, just so all of a suddent. According to my Garmin, even including the last few feet of elevation gain that were really past what looked like the top of the hill, this "monster" was 100 feet in elevation gain. About 70 feet of this came in about a quarter mile. I said out loud, "Can we agree not to complain about this later on Facebook?"

No, no we couldn't. I've been struggling with all the complaining lately. After the Hermes 10 Miler in April, people took to the Hermes page, the MRTT page, and their own timelines to complain about a hill. For Rite Aid, people complained about all sorts of things, including this "monster" hill. It was a quarter mile. If you spend more than 4 minutes complaining about it, you have spent longer complaining than you did running/walking it.

People also complained loudly that they thought the course measured long. I find all the casting of aspersions disrespectful to the race organizers. I think they know how to measure a course. If you think the turn-around was wrong, send them a note to double check the placement. My first sub-2 was in a race where the turn-around was misplaced. They acknowledged it and adjusted our finish times. It happens.

But all the online complaining about things that may or may not be valid, that I find difficult. Guys, MapMyRun is not super accurate! It tends to measure long. Cathy and I ran side-by-side and hers clocked the course at 13.7, while my Garmin measured it at 13.37. Also, the very urban environment is hard for GPS accuracy. I recently ran the Hermes 10 miler in vaguely the same part of town. My Garmin under-measured it by a quarter mile, just due to the hills/buildings/overpasses. All this stuff is legit. And if it isn't, and the course was actually long, they will sort it out.

We lost a few seconds at the turn-around, which was a 180* turn, but otherwise stayed reasonably close to mile-to-mile goal times through the second half, adjusting up and down for water stops and slight elevation changes. I enjoyed the on-course music and crowd, and by the second half the rain had stopped. It was just a cool, foggy morning.
Mile 7: 9:09 (the turn-around)
Mile 8: 8:56

Mile 9: 8:47

Mile 10: 8:58

Mile 11: 9:03

Mile 12: 8:49

Cathy was going for her first sub-2 half. I've seen her run sub-2 paced 10 milers almost every Sunday for months. Then she goes to races and psyches herself out! Today would be different. I told her I would make sure she crossed in under 2 hours. Over the last few miles she kept asking me, "Are we going to make it?" "Are we still under 2?" ""How much time before 2 hours?" I kept telling her we were fine, even if Garmin error was insane, we were fine! She had this.

We approached a bridge back into downtown. I reminded her how many times she'd trained over the shorter, steeper bridges on the Towpath, all for this moment. She nailed it. There was a slight incline into the block-long straight-away. We attacked it. She had this. We kicked from about half a mile out.


Mile 13: 8:39

FINISH: 1:58:27.

Katie (our very pregnant race crew/cheering section), Tina, me, and Cathy

I couldn't have been happier to see Cathy reach her goal. She was so well trained and ready for this! I loved getting to be part of it. A runner's first sub-2 is such an achievement!

After, we were all a little chilly, so Cathy and I found a merch tent. I bought a "Run the Land" t-shirt (LOVE!!) and she bought a nice race sweatshirt. They screen printed my shirt on the spot, so it was even warm when I put it on.

We tried a couple places for brunch but due to the race route, we found we couldn't get out of downtown headed in the right direction. We ended up eating on the east side, which worked out well to join up with Candice and her daughter. 

All told, what a great race experience. I'm just so full of gratitude for it all.

October-ish Recap

Back in September I started having real trouble with an injury coming out of my left hip. The strain wasn't new. I'd been struggling to contain it most of the summer. But then one day, I just couldn't any more. I couldn't keep my left knee from turning out. I couldn't take shorter steps to keep it from wanting to slip. I couldn't hold the pain at bay. So to make a long story short, I eventually downgraded my registration for the Towpath Half to the 10k. It's why I never posted a September recap. It was such a disappointment after a great training season.

Despite rest, yoga, and limited massage therapy, the problem hasn't gone away. So...October was pretty low mileage. Let's be real about this for a moment. Yes, I was bummed to miss cool mornings and fall foliage. But...after 9 straight months of training, the mornings sleeping in weren't so bad either.

At the end of this, I ran way more miles in September than in October. It sounds better if I tell you the 2-month total: 186. Let's go with that.

The highlight of my October was certainly the Towpath 10k. My friend Kelly and her older daughter came from West Virginia, and this was running gold. Kelly started running relatively recently and has gained a ton of speed in a short period of time. I see pictures of her smiling during races. We've talked at length about training. In short, it's been fun to watch her take on running, and even better to get to share a weekend.

The other reason I loved this race day: my Sunday running group. We coordinated logistics and cheered each other on. They are wonderful.

On Saturday Kelly and I went to packet pick-up, where we ran into Cathy. We picked up some goodies, our bibs, all the hoopla. There was a sweetly presented yet quite confusing promotion about pee cups. Since Kelly lives in WV, she doesn't have a local Athleta (true story: I was 20 before I saw a Gap), so we went to the mall for a bit. Ice cream was involved.

Then, because we're both 10s on the Type A scale, we were up, dressed, and out of the house ahead of schedule on Sunday. We met my friends to switch people between cars, Kelly with them to the half-marathon start and Kathy with me to the 10k start. We headed to the parking and our starting lines. Kathy and I stretched, as we were both having some issues. 

At the start line

Race day weather was outstanding. It had rained the previous day, which kept the dust down on the Towpath. It was cool and beautiful. I felt good. Somehow, magically, probably from adrenaline, my knee/hip didn't give me trouble. I used my old mantras, and reminded myself how many hours I'd trained for these minutes. That it didn't matter if I was tired. I just pushed, and enjoyed it.

I came in at 48:04, which was enough to win my age group. Go me!

With my age group award

I went through the finishing area and came back around to cheer in my friends. One by one they came in, with two setting their first sub-2 hours half times, and getting new PR's in the process! That's a big day for any runner, and I was so pleased I got to be part of it for them.

Front, left to right: Kathy, Katie, Tina, Cathy
Back: me and Kelly

Once everyone was in, Kelly and I went to the Park's general store (which is completely adorable) to buy a cup of coffee. She said she'd dropped her debit card and cash when she'd gotten her fuel out of the zippered pocket of her water bottle mid-race. As I was paying for our items, the cashier asked if it was together and I mentioned her loss. The cashier replied that someone had turned in both items. We found our way to the lost and found and--yes--there they were! The lost & found people were as happy she turned up there as we were someone had turned in her items. The running community is great.

After lunch at one of my family's favorite spots, Kelly and her daughter were headed back home.

The rest of October was low-key. I didn't run a whole lot. My last run of the month was in cold rain. Because the forecast said 5% chance of rain but it's Cleveland so.

Moving into November, I'm hoping my hip/knee will find some peace. I'm enjoying yoga in the meantime though. I've gotten onto going to a place by my work over lunch time, sometimes with another running friend. There's a nice studio near my house too, and I go there sometimes. It's taken years--literally years--but I do finally actually enjoy yoga! It's possible.

That's the recap! I'm hoping for a few more miles in November.

Race Report: Canton Hall of Fame Marathon

Last week was weird and nice. I slept in. I ate a lot of carbs. I worried. I hydrated. And then it was time to leave for Canton.

Packet pick-up went relatively smoothly. I, like everyone else, parked illegally in a fire lane. No one seemed concerned. Just like there weren't signs directing us to appropriate parking, there weren't signs telling us where to enter the large school campus to find the expo. I wandered a bit with other people until we saw someone leaving with a bag, and they directed us in. Once inside things were easy.

I saw Shannon working at a race info table for a fall event. I got my bib and my teeny tiny women's race t-shirt. I had plans to room at a nearby hotel with two other women in my running group (although I'd never met them). Just as I was ready to leave I got a message that they were also at the expo. I met them and a friend of theirs, so we all went to the hotel, got checked in, and headed to dinner.

We tried an Italian place but, sadly, it was prom, so that was a no-go. We ended up at...wait for it...Cracker Barrel. Fun fact: the Cracker Barrel does not serve pasta. We loaded up on pancakes, french toast, and a few daring souls on meat, and called it a night. (Run group fail on the photo op)

I stayed up for a while with the girls in my room, watching TV and talking. Checking the weather one last time. Earlier in the week rain had been a huge concern. It looked like we'd clear from the rain, but that it would be in the upper 70's by the end of the race.

We did our Flat Momma (picture below) and headed to bed about 9:30.

We were all awake well before 5am Sunday. Our prep worked like a highly choreographed dance, even though we'd only just met. What great girls I got to room with! We were out by 5:30 and headed to the fairgrounds to park and board the bus to the start area.

Once at the start, we all did what runners do: used the port-a-potties. Stood around nervously. Saw people we knew. Peed again. Took a group picture.

MRTT Cleveland, Akron, even a few PGH I think. And a lot of people missed the photo op. It was so much fun meeting so many people I'd only known via Facebook.

When I lined up, another runner told me the start had been delayed 15 or 20 minutes due to an accident on the Interstate. I later learned this accident snarled the parking situation for at least several hundred runners. We anxiously waited. And then, we were off. I was sort of in disbelief that after all the training, it was finally really race day.

My shins cramped for about the first two miles, but the pace felt fine. I knew the first 4.5ish were pretty flat, so I just settled in an enjoyed it. I saw Shannon and her girls around mile 3 handing out water. This was unexpected. She wasn't signed up to man an aid station. Whoever was signed up didn't show, and since Shannon's awesome like that, she enlisted her tiny terrors and they got the job done.

Mile 1: 8:54
Mile 2: 8:49
Mile 3: 8:47


We passed the big hospital, a landmark I knew to look for, and started a gentle uphill. I'd memorized the altitude trends mile by mile. By mile 9 or so we were headed up Market, the bit I knew was the hardest stretch of the whole race. I'd planned for this. I lowered my pace a few seconds.


Mile 4: 8:48
Mile 5: 8:58
Mile 6: 8:50
Mile 7: 8:54
Mile 8: 8:44
Mile 9: 9:01

We wound through some neighborhoods and made a bunch of tuns and headed toward the half-marathon finish, near the start line. 
Mile 10: 9:14 (I think I paused for a water stop)
Mile 11: 8:58
Mile 12: 8:53
Mile 13: 9:06

Where I'd hoped to be about 1:54 at the half, I was something like 1:56. I could deal with that. It might be hard to pull off my PR, but I'd easily be under 4 hours and the PR still felt possible.

And then mile 14 happened. Or, it didn't happen. I'm really not sure. My legs felt fine. My cardio felt fine. And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my fast miles were over. The forecast has said the heat would come on quickly, and it had. It was hot. It was humid. And that was it.

Mile 14: 9:15
Mile 15: 9:42

I saw Laurie at 15.5. She'd made me a sign and I LOVE HER FOR IT to get my PR. I saw it and just shook my head, and told her that had ended about a mile and a half earlier. Oh, how I wished that weren't true. 

So here's what I'll say for me in this scenario. I can't say I wasn't well-hydrated. I can't say I didn't have enough carbs, or that I wasn't prepared, or that I wasn't rested. In fact, I was really well prepared for this situation. A few faster people I knew ended up only slowing their races by 5-10 minutes, but I think they were the exceptions. For a while I kept mile times respectable by running slower and walking through water stations.

Mile 16: 9:49
Mile 17: 9:36
Mile 18: 10:33

And then I....well....let's just say it involved my asking a police officer not to arrest me. 
Mile 19: 15:54

After that, strictly owing to the amount of time I'd already been on the course and the heat, there were no points to be won. There was nothing that could be done to salvage a time I wanted. My goal became finishing without getting sick, and that meant more walking. Everyone was walking.

Mile 20: 11:04
Mile 21: 11:29
Mile 22: 11:37
Mile 23: 11:09

Somewhere around mile 24 I found Shannon again. I'd actually seen her once earlier, arguing with a man who was just determined a road wasn't open (it was) and nearly getting arrested for being belligerent about it. But anyway, mile 24, she'd been looking for me long enough that she'd set a time, and if I hadn't shown up by then she was calling the med tent to see if I'd checked in somewhere. I was fine, I was just slow. She had her girls in the double stroller and they jumped in with me. SO MANY PEOPLE asked if she'd done the whole race with the stroller. After a bit, someone would start to say something and we'd both just reply "no, she's just with me for a few miles!"

And let me say, thank God this woman had sunscreen in the stroller. The bit I put on my shoulders meant my shoulders were the only part of my upper body that didn't burn.
Mile 24: 12:23
Mile 25: 12:40
Mile 26: 11:50

Just before mile 26 we found my family. Shannon and her girls jumped out and I grabbed my older son to run me in. I always cry at the end of a marathon, but running down the straightaway holding his hand there was no keeping the emotions back.

Finish: 4:26:15.

This might be the only photo of either of my children ever to exist on this blog. I just love it so much.

Was race day what I wanted? No. It was not even my second fastest marathon. And that has to be ok. As a wise friend reminded me, the training and the race are separate events. There is no certainty in a marathon. It just means I'll chase that PR another day.

Towpath Half Race Report

Guys, I think I might be ready to start writing about running again. It's been a long hiatus, which vaguely started due to injury, then persisted because....life. I've been running pretty regularly for a few months and so, so much about life has changed in the past 8 months. It's a new world.

As to running, I crossed some milestones I thought about writing up, then didn't. First, there was the regular running. But this didn't seem noteworthy to me (note to self: it was!). Then, my first 100-mile month in who knows how long (actually, I do know: 16 months. Sixteen flipping months!). And finally, a race. And you know, races get us runners right in the feelings, and then I can't resist returning here to write about it. Welcome to the race report.

I'm gonna back up a bit from the race itself, back to about February or March when I told my friend Jodi I was moving to CLE. She immediately added me to a Facebook page for a free running group called MRTT (Moms Run This Town). I cannot begin to tell you how thankful I have been for this group. This is how I've met several of my new friends, who have graciously invited me on social outings and shown me the running paths around here. The group has over 1000 members, and we're everywhere. You go to a race, you're going to see MRTTers. A lot of us have magnets on our cars that say MRTT. Another MRTTer is going to see it eventually and flip it upside down--our way of saying hi.

The MRTT, in fact, was how I learned about the Towpath Half in the first place.

The race was last Sunday. On Saturday I headed out to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park with my family, to the Boston Mills Ski Area, where the expo was being held. Two things on this: 1) I'm really happy to have skiing so convenient. 2) it's adorable. Their website boasts a 270" vertical drop, which, Utah would eat for breakfast. But honestly it's probably grade-appropriate for my family right now, so, winning.

I chatted with my friend Shannon (MRTT) at the expo, who I planned to race with. I snapped a few pictures near the finish line, ran around with the kiddos a bit, and got some ice cream from the general store. Beautiful day.

The surface we'd be running on--a tightly packed, crushed limestone

That night I couldn't decide what to wear. It would feel like 40 degrees at the start line, and warm up to around 50 or 52 by the end of the race. My long/short sleeve cut-off is somewhere between 50 and 55, but in a race I thought I might be warmer than usual. But that start would be cold. I couldn't decide. Finally I put out my trusty old Brooks skirt and a long-sleeved top. I stashed a short-sleeved shirt in my drop bag just in case, and called it a night.

Early Sunday morning I got up and went through the motions: get dressed, eat some toast and jam, double check my bag drop situation, plug in directions on the GPS, head out. Half an hour later I pulled into Brandywine Ski Area (near Boston Mills), parked, and went to find Shannon. We sat in my warm car as long as we dared before heading to the port-a-potty line. We waited too long. The line wasn't moving fast enough to make the start gun, but the guy on the bullhorn told us not to jump out of line about it. Enough people made use of the two-ply leaves in the woods, I got through the port-a-potty line just in time.  The sun came up--glorious--while we waited. 

Sunrise over Brandywine

We crept up about as far as we could in the start area before the gun went off, trying to avoid getting caught behind walkers and slower runners. We still did some weaving in the first mile, but pretty minimal. Shannon ran right in front of me, leading us along the shoulder for a while, and only lowering a shoulder once.

We got to the Towpath itself about half a mile in, and settled in. Our plan was to start around 8:45 and drop to an 8:15 or 8:20 by the half-way point, then decide what the endgame would be. You learn a lot about people when you race with them. I learned, among other things, that Shannon goes out fast. I kept pulling her back, and together I think we made a good team.

Mile 1: 8:42
Mile 2: 8:26
Mile 3: 8:29

Somewhere around here, we're running along when another runner looks at me and says, "Are you Joanna?" She was another MRTTer, and recognized me from a Facebook post. It definitely put a big smile on my face!

Mile 4: 8:17
Mile 5: 8:29
Mile 6: 8:19

Usually when race directors tell you a course is flat, at some point you want to choke them. Not here. It is actually, for real, flat. There is the tiniest of a false-flat-down on the way out, and false-flat-up on the way back, but really truly tiny. And the course is beautiful.

At the half way point we talked strategy. She wanted to speed up. I didn't have faster, so I sent her on ahead. This is where, frankly, if I'd trained, I could have recouped some time. But I didn't really train. Yes, I ran 101 miles in September, but zero speed work, zero tempo runs, nothing. Just miles. And, that's fine. The whole point of this race was to get back out there!

I got a little down for a few miles, sort of hating life a little. Then at some point I thought, I'm supposed to be enjoying this. Look up! Look around! Take it in! Control your breathing and just run.

Mile 7: 8:26
Mile 8: 8:24
Mile 9: 8:32
Mile 10: 8:39

I had something happen at a water stop around this point that I'd never seen before. For a while, I'd been trying to pass a guy. For a while, oncoming runners prevented this. A time or two I thought maybe he just didn't see that I was trying to get around him. Then at a water stop, he took water while staying smack in the middle of the course, and audibly cussed when I squeezed my way around him. What the hell?!? Has anyone ever seen that??

Shannon was still in my sights at this point, and with just a 5k to go I was pretty head-down to get it done.

Mile 11: 8:45
Mile 12: 8:49
Mile 13: 8:29

Coming in the home stretch I got into a race with a guy. We were plainly racing each other, and we were plainly both enjoying it. I honestly think he let me win. I don't care. He pushed me to go faster than I might have otherwise as we came into the last turn.

Finish time: 1:51:34.

I'm pleased with this. It's a little faster than I ran Salt Lake in 2015, and I did it without any structured training. This race got me back to racing.

With such a gorgeous day, I decided to wander and hang out a bit. The beer tent, though very popular, just wasn't calling my name. At 10am. On a Sunday. After a race. (Seriously people, what am I missing about this? I just can't do it.) But there was live music, lots of people, and beautiful weather. I ended up running into 2 co-workers, then randomly meeting 2 MRTT ladies back at the parking lot.

Walking to the shuttle back to the parking lot

All in all, this was a spectacular race weekend. Beautiful weather, mission get-back-to-racing accomplished, and got to do it with friends.

Utah Valley Half Marathon Race Report

Friday Morning

I have had an EPIC four days, and cannot wait to share it all with you, starting with Saturday, the Utah Valley Half. Welcome to the race recap!

If you've been following along on here or on Daily Mile, you know that I have been battling a foot, then knee, then calf strain for over a month, and that this has threatened race day both by screwing up my speed work, then my threatening even my ability to run without constantly stopping. So it was with great trepidation that I entered this weekend. I didn't know where I would fall on the spectrum that runs from a PR (Personal Record) to a DNF (Did Not Finish). Walking large portions of the race seemed likely. 

On Friday my St. Louis BRF (best running friend) Rachel was scheduled to land about 10am, having taken a brutal 5:30am flight from St. Louis. About 9am I got a text message that their departure from Las Vegas (a layover) had been delayed. Then....canceled. CANCELED?! Having lived in the Midwest for 8 years, I'm no stranger to canceled flights. Think you're catching the last flight south from Chicago? Think again. Think you're getting to Michigan in December? Nope. But this? A canceled flight from Vegas in June? This was unprecedented. 

What to do? Southwest couldn't get her on a flight until 9pm, landing at 11 or something. We had to get up at 2:30 Saturday for the race. If I left right then, at 9am, to get her, it was 6 hours each way. We wouldn't get back until 9pm, best case scenario, and both of us exhausted. 

I was facing a possible DNF. She was stranded in Vegas. This Race Eve sucked. 

Being the resourceful girl that she is, she had made friends with a couple on the flight to Vegas. As she stood in line at customer service with a strange man creeping on her, she caught sight of the couple, who asked if she was game for a rental car, and she took the first chance to escape Mr. Creepy and get on the road with, and I quote, "2 gay guys and a plump middle aged woman". As the options went, this was the lowest risk strategy available. She was on her way. 

This left the small issue of a packet pickup, and, cue the superhero music for the Utah Valley race organizers. She emailed them about her situation and within minutes had a reply (by email! on race eve!) that I could pick up her packet as long as I had a copy of her race registration. She sent that to me (seriously, thank God for smart phones), and with that I was headed to Provo to the expo. 

The Expo

No surprises here. They had maybe 30 vendors, including some shoe stores, some other regional races, some nutrition and personal care product companies, including one for essential oils, at which a woman insisted to me that she had a relative in a wheel chair by 50, and she (the sales person) had completed some insane number of marathons and it was all thanks to the power of essential oils. Um....they're great and all, but, just maybe you're overselling it here?? 

I made my way to the back, to the packet pick-up, and looked up both of our numbers, and approached the desk. The girls, in their late teens or early twenties I'd guess, were incredibly nice and patient as I explained needing to pick up two packets. I told them I'd met my AWOL friend doing exactly what they were doing now--handing out pre-race swag at a half & full marathon (read about that day here). 

On my way out I thought I'd capture the moment. I was attempting a selfie when some do-gooder offered to help. I think the selfie might have been less awkward looking. He tried!

Friday Afternoon & Evening
After the expo, I ran errands around Salt Lake, including REI then the Mormon version of Goodwill to pick up some throw-away sweatshirts, remembering shivering at the start line last year. I sent a few last work emails, cleaned up the house a bit, and around 5:40 headed to the airport to pick up Rachel, finally.

We stopped at the grocery store on the way back home to pick up groceries for the morning. We got home, had a pasta dinner, and pretty much immediately started getting ready for bed. I was in bed by 9:30 and asleep soon after, my alarm set for 2:40am. Because we're crazy people.

Getting to the Start Line
Race morning more or less went smoothly, aside from having to come back to the house when we were about 3/4 mile out the first time, to leave a car seat behind. That detour ate up the entire cushion we had built in for ensuring that we would arrive square in the middle of the window in which to catch a bus up the canyon to the start line. When we arrived there were gobs of people standing in the parking lot, lined up for buses. In fact, there was at least a bus-full of people lined up behind us by the time the window ended, but, as it turned out, we did ride the last or next-to-last bus up the canyon. Here again, the race organizers were tremendous. No one got deserted if they showed up on time, and the crew herding us into the buses was both efficient and kind. Thumbs up on this.

The bus deposited us at the start line about 30-40 minutes before the gun. By this point, we'd each had a small cup of coffee, a bagel with various things on it, and were about to have some Gu, which is to say, we were more than ready for the port-a-potties at the start line, and were race-ready afterwards. We got our gear situated, cinched up our drop bags and put them on the truck. Before we split to find our respective pacers I told her I'd never felt less confident at a start line, and that if I didn't come in within 10 minutes after she did, something had gone terribly wrong for me.

I lined up just behind the 1:45 pacer, and next to a trio that appeared to be somehow related to one another. They asked if I knew the course, and when I said I did, they asked questions about different parts of it. I asked about their goals, and very politely suggested they move back in the starting area when they said "just to finish". Oy.

I discarded my throw-away sweatshirt, got back into the starting mob, and then,

FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE, GO!!!!

With absolutely no fanfare--no anthem, no announcements, no words of encouragement, no real warning--the start gun went off. Much later we speculated that there was some gap in communication between the full marathon (which starts farther up the canyon) and the half, and by the time the half start line crew realized it was go time, it was too late for the normal formalities.

At any rate, we were inching toward the start line, and then off! It's at this point that I hear one of my favorite quotes from the day, from a girl next to me: "1:45?! Isn't that some kind of qualifying time??" I laughed out loud.

Miles 1-3
Maybe 100 or 150 feet over the start line, a crazy thing happened. My subconscious exerted itself in a visceral response to people engaging in bad race day behavior, which I and 99% of other runners habitually just deal with as quickly and painlessly as possible. Before I really realized I was doing it, I'd said, out loud, to four women WALKING, four-abreast, that if they were going to walk, they could not line up with the 1:30 pacer.

Is it considered rude to bark at other participants? Yes. Yes, it is. But since I did it, let's take this moment to be crystal clear about something:
If you are planning to walk, DO NOT line up with the 1:30 pacer. Line up with the 3:00 pacer, if not the 3:30. Also, it is rude to run or walk more than two abreast during a race unless you are literally the last people on the course. If people have to veer much to get around you, your group is too wide. 

Hissy fit aside, these early miles were crucial gauges of my ability to run. Earlier in the week I'd put in all of 2.5 miles, and had had to stop 3 times to stretch. And that was the last run I'd attempted before the race. Could I get going? Could I hit the paces on my pace band?

Could I get going? Yes.
Could I hit the paces on my pace band? Sort of.
I missed my Mile 1 pace target by only a few seconds, but this immediately gave me flash backs to the Cleveland Marathon, when I missed the Mile 1 pace and never could regain footing. But I felt OK, and most importantly, my calves and Achilles felt OK, which was a huge relief.

Miles 4-6
The course's biggest hill comes after mile marker 3. This hill is a medium grade, but long. If you're not expecting it, not accustomed to hills, or have trained at sea level, this hill is a b*tch. I tackled this hill slightly slower than intended, then pressed on. Just barreling down the canyon--the gorgeous, dramatic canyon.

Miles 7-10
We came to the mouth of the canyon around mile marker 8, meaning that we had 5.1 miles to go on the valley floor. For a bit I wasn't sure if we'd hit the mouth yet or not, because I wasn't really paying attention when we turned left. I was off in runner-land somewhere, doing my thing. So it took me about half a mile to convince myself that we'd turned left and were out of the canyon. My game plan was to approach the race in early (pre-hill) miles, from the hill to the bottom of the canyon, from the mouth of the canyon to the last hill, then the 2.5 miles to the finish. So when I figured out where we were, I knew I just needed to drive hard to the last hill.

Miles 11-12.6
When I hit the last, smallish, hill at about 10.7, and felt good coming through it, I knew I was in the home stretch. It was too far out to kick, so I held my pace and kept my eye on the downtown landmarks I knew were near the finish, just chasing them down.

The Finish
At 12.6 I kicked. It was hard. I relied on my memory and muscle memory of running all those intervals, to remember that they are hard, and to remember that I ran them in training to prepare me for this point in the race. Push. It's a little hard to tell, but I held this pace around a 7:40 through the end. Coming down the final blocks to the finish line, I didn't let myself look at my Garmin. It's too hard to gauge how long it will take to cover 2 city blocks, and that can be hard to deal with when you're at the very end of a race. So I just ran, hard.

As I approached I spotted Rachel waiting for me just over the finish line. I crossed the mat, clicked my Garmin to stop, and looked at it. 1:47:01. I'd PR'ed. At a race I thought I might DNF. I yelled. Loud.

Then I rang the PR bell. Or, more accurately, I epically failed in my effort to ring the PR bell, all while a young guy stood waiting for it and trying not to laugh at me. *facepalm It's harder than it looks!

Chip time: 1:47:00.4
While my pace bands said 1:45, I'd been hoping to land somewhere in the 1:46 range. This four-tenths of a second just pissed me off. Four tenths! The time lost running around four women walking abreast at the start line. Ha! But seriously.

Overall place: 244/1658
Gender place: 76/1005
Division place: 11/152
Overall pace: 8:10/mile

I am particularly pleased with these place stats--top 15% overall, and in the top 10% for both gender and division. Hell yeah!

Immediate Post Race
We loitered around the post race as long as possible, trying to shake out the legs and recover a bit. In doing so, we ran into my super fast neighbor, who won a prize, and, wait for it......placed second to a guy running in Crocs. For all things, I wish I were making this up. Crocs. And his son won some award too, also running in Crocs. Who does this?!??

After the race, we headed back to Salt Lake to get cleaned up, nap, spend time with my boys, and pack up for our next Utah adventure. Stay tuned.

Salt Lake Half Race Report

Half Marathon #11, the Salt Lake Half 2015, is in the books! Welcome to the race recap.

The Expo
On Friday afternoon I left work early to head to the race expo. I left myself plenty of time since the last time I ran an errand downtown between work and kid pick-up, I didn't arrive to my son's daycare until the absolute last possible minute (parenting fail #872). I found parking easily at the Energy Solutions Arena, and starting circling the building looking for Gate 3, which my foggy memory told me was what the race instructions email had said. I walked a bit. And kept walking. Then re-checked the email and realized I was at the wrong location. The race expo was at the convention center. D'oh! Fortunately for me, they're right across the street from each other. No biggie.

Home of the Utah Jazz...but not the race expo

Crossing the street took several minutes, but I immediately found an entry door to the convention center and went in.

Salt Palace Convention Center

At the end of the hall you see above, I found this sign pointing to an elevator. Except the guy getting in the elevator told me it was easier to take the stairs, so I started walking. And walking, and walking.

Not helpful. 

Then when I got to a long hallway overlooking a square mile of vacant space, I really wondered if I'd made up the whole thing. Race? What race? This is the zombie apocalypse! You've entered the maze of never-ending vaguely-industrial corridors! Good thing you're a runner, since zombies don't like fast food.

So this sign was actually helpful. Otherwise I'd have assumed I was lost. 

At long last I reached the race expo. It was much larger than last year, and bustling! I wove my way through to packet pick-up and got my bag and shirt. I stopped by the Salt Lake Running Company booth on my way out to ask some questions. Remember my new shoes?  It turns out I wasn't feeling so confident about them. My heels were slipping a lot, and I needed some input. The guy told me to try to get to the store before they closed at 7. So I went home, dropped off my younger son, and headed over the store.

Race Eve
At Salt Lake Running, they were so patient with me. A sales person worked with me to figure out what wasn't working and find a solution. So the question: did I dare race on brand new, never-tried shoes? After some back and forth with friends on Facebook, I decided against it, and stuck with my very old Adrenalins. Better to let them kill me slowly than have something horrific, acute, and unexpected from the new kicks.

Race eve: sweet & sour veggies and rice for dinner, and in bed later than intended, around 10:30, with my alarm set for 4:50am. Incidentally, while I was walking through the expo, I apparently pocket dialed an AT&T software update for my phone. So that happened. This largely meant that when bedtime came, I couldn't figure out my volume settings. Mr. Joanna figured out a work-around, and by morning had found the actual setting. I love being married to a tech geek. :)

O'Dark Thirty
I slept well and rolled out of bed on schedule, 4:50am, immediately thankful for being able to sleep in my own bed on race eve. I was out of the house on schedule, too, right at 5:25, toasted bagel with cream cheese in hand. My efforts to get to the nearest TRAX station were thwarted by race-related road closures, so I quickly found a path to the next nearest station, effortlessly found parking, and caught the next Red Line train to the start line. I chatted with a nice woman who was from out of town, and in no time we'd arrived.

It was cold at the race start. I hadn't brought a bag to check or any throw-away clothes, so I was just in my race clothes, which consisted of capris and a long-sleeved but light weight top. I was there almost an hour before start time, so I hit the porta-potties, then focused on energy conservation. I sat on a curb for a while, and when my but was 100% numb from the cold I got up and stood for a while.

Finally it was time to line up, and here was my only complaint about the race organization: they'd put our starting corrals on the gear check tag. You know, the one people had either torn off of their bib at home, or torn off earlier that morning to put on their drop bag? So like one of out eight people could identify their starting corral and the rest of us guessed. I put myself between the 1:45 and 2:00 pacers, which is kinda what happens at every other race anyway, so it wasn't a huge deal.

The Race
Pre-recorded national anthem: check. Race sponsor shout outs: check. Hometown Hero gun count-down: check. A few waves, and about a minute and 40 seconds later, and I was across the start mat, right behind a woman running her very first full marathon. I love the excitement of a start line!!

Knowing the course from last year was a huge advantage. I knew that there were hills in the first mile and a half, and that it would pay to take them conservatively. I absolutely did that, easing into Mile 1 at 9:07, and mile 2 at 8:41. I think this was one of my most successful half marathon openings, actually. I warmed up, eased in, and didn't try to be a hero on those hills.

Dispensing with The Avenues, we moved into the descent through Memory Grove. Just stunning. Beautiful, beautiful in the early morning light. Easily the best part of the course! It didn't feel like work at all, but like being pulled along, down. We wound down and through the gates (see pic below), then turned east and headed into a long, gradual incline before turning south at 6.6 miles.
Mile 3: 8:10
Mile 4: 8:14
Mile 5: 8:09
Mile 6: 8:34
Mile 7: 8:24

I'm sure this thing has an actual name

Once we turned south, I was headed toward seeing my boys--yay!! I also knew I had a long, gradual decline followed by a relatively short but quite steep hill, so I settled in and enjoyed the downhill. The short/steep was rude, as was expected, and I was again thankful that I run this hill almost every day, which let me nail the pacing for it. We turned off the hill and onto level ground, and I in the home stretch for seeing my boys. At this point, I was a little tired, but very much aware of how much better I felt at this point versus last year at this point.

A few blocks down, I saw my neighbor and runner friend first, then my older son, then my younger son and my husband, all cheering. Love!! Seriously the best thing ever.

Mile 8: 8:46. I'm not sorry. That hill's a b*tch.

The stretch from here to the park is the tough stretch for me. Fewer spectators, less scenery, fairly flat and uneventful. I knew going in though that this would be harder, and I was ready for it. I felt ok, a little tired, but ok. When I got to Liberty Park, at mile 11.3, I knew it was too early to kick, so I made myself wait until I exited the park, which I knew well was in about .75 miles, and that would be fine.

Mile 9: 8:22
Mile 10: 8:32
Mile 11: 8:20
Mile 12: 8:32
I'd vaguely been targeting an 8:20 or 8:30 race pace, so I was good with this.

When I exited the park, I had about 1.25 miles to go, and I kicked it up a notch. Knowing the terrain of this course was such an advantage, because I knew what to expect and when and how easy or hard everything would feel. I knew it was a flat, straight shot from the end of the park to the finish line, so I had no fear about burning through the last mile.

Mile 13: 7:53

I could see the finish from about 0.4 miles out, straight down a major street about 4 traffic lights. I waited until the last 0.25 to add my last bit of speed, then came down the straight-away to the finish.

Last 0.28 mi: 7:28 pace

Unofficial Garmin time: 1:51:53.
(Office time: 1:51:54)
Placement: 537/3,122 overall
199/1,914 women overall
57/391 gender/age group

The Finish Area
The finish line was really well stocked and staffed! I got a Creamie (a Utah ice cream popsicle, gloriously available in chocolate, orange, or vanilla at seemingly all finish lines in Utah), a banana, and some Gatorade, had my picture taken, stretched and cooled down. And of course my medal!

I think you could actually wear this as a belt buckle. It's a bold statement. 

After I'd cooled down a bit, I walked across the street to the TRAX station to hop a Red Line train back to my car. I happened to board a train with one of my advisees, headed to the airport to go to a conference. I chatted with him until he needed to switch lines, hoping he didn't notice how bad I smelled! Once I was back to my car, getting home required a highly circuitous and slow route around the perimeter of the course--to be expected.

All told, it was a great race day. I shaved about 1:10 off my time from last year, and felt a LOT better throughout the race. I feel good heading into training for my A Game race for the year, the Utah Valley Half. I'll be taking a few days off then heading back to training. Can't wait!!

Race Report: Top of Utah Marathon

I left you a week ago with all the stats heading into race day: miles trained, race goals, mantra, everything. Over the course of the week I continued my preparations like clockwork. On Wednesday I transitioned into a carb-focused diet. On Thursday and Friday I took special care to hydrate and rest. On Friday, I left for Logan right after work. The 90 minute drive took 2 hours due to construction and traffic, getting me there just in time for dinner with a dear colleague and friend (frolleague? collend?) and her son, then they went with me to the expo to see what it was like (and, ok, yes, to keep me from getting lost). We stayed up until about 10 talking, after which I laid out everything for morning, emailed Mr. Joanna a picture of the spectator's guide I'd gotten in my packet, and went to bed.

I slept in fits, waking up at least 4 times before my alarm went off at 4:45am. I got up and went through the motions. I made my pre-race breakfast but couldn't eat it because my stomach was upset (this is normal for me when I get up super early), so I took it with me to eat on the bus, which my friend was so very nice to shuttle me to.

5:15am bagel & jelly

Arrival at the bus to take me to the start line, 5:30am

Once aboard the bus, I sat next to a woman who was doing the race as a training run in advance of her A Game marathon in a few weeks. After we talked for a few minutes, and I unsuccessfully tried to munch on my bagel some more, I closed my eyes. It's unusual for me, but I was having some motion sickness with the bus going up the canyon in the dark. Closing my eyes helped, and 14 miles later we pulled into Hardware Ranch.  Even in the pitch black, it was gorgeous. The stars were bright, a sliver of moon was out. And slowly, slowly, the sun started to lighten the horizon to the east.

I got through the port-a-potty-ing, stood in the warm tent for about 10 minutes, and saw my very fast neighbor, gave up on my bagel and gear checked my stuff, then lined up. I introduced myself to the pacers (who I knew I probably wouldn't run with), set my Garmin, and we were off.

The first 14 miles of the race headed down Blacksmith Fork Canyon were gorgeous. The leaves were changing colors, the sunrise cast these big dramatic shadows over the jagged rocks, and there was a breeze to our backs. Incidentally, we passed a road sign declaring the possible presence of cows for the next 10 miles. But despite it all, I just could not get myself to relax and just enjoy the morning. A few factors were working against me:

• It took me about 9 miles to get into the groove of pacing on the downhill course. The downhill isn't constant, but is down, then levels out, then down, then levels out, and I'm not accustomed to that. I got there, but it took some time. Partly as a result of this,
• I went out too fast. About 20 seconds faster than planned in the first mile, and 10 in the second, which was good because
• Garmin error (where my Garmin reads the course longer than do the mile markers) was exaggerated in the canyon, I imagine because the road curved so much. And all of that is completely unrelated to the fact that,
• My right eye duct was clogged, as sometimes happens when I run in cool weather, and I could not get my right eye to stop producing tears. Like, lots of tears. Finally, I pressed on the duct hard enough that it felt like my sinus passage (what? yeah, I don't know, I was bad a biology. That's what it felt like) opened, and the tears stopped. This took 8 miles. 

HOWEVER, my trusty pace bands kept me on track mile-to-mile, and I felt fine. I'd successfully Gu'ed at miles 6 and 12 and put a new Gu tablet in my water around mile 11. I'd ran with the pace group for a bit around mile 7, then passed them. When we exited the canyon at mile 14, I was only 40 seconds off of my 3:55 goal time pace band. 

Out of the canyon, I expected the rolling downhill to proceed until mile 18, but it felt like it leveled out a bit. The hills in miles 18 and 19 were pretty much exactly what I'd expected (I'd gone so far as to Google Map stalk them earlier in the week). It took the entire mile from 18 to 19 to ingest my third Gu, and I knew then that there would be no fourth Gu at mile 24. My friend came to cheer for me between mile markers 19 and 20 and snapped this action shot. At this point, I knew that my energy supply was not infinite, but I was feeling ok and was keeping pace with my per-mile target times just fine. 

I ran mile 21 in 8:55, and 22 in 9:07, right on pace. But by the time I'd hit mile marker 22, the miles seemed to be lingering forever on my Garmin. I was ready for a boost from my race crew, but I had at least a mile until I'd see them. That mile took me 9:26, and as such was the first mile where I really missed my goal time, by 13 seconds.

Mr. Joanna had told me to look out for him and our boys at mile 23, but when I got to mile marker 23 I knew there was no way they'd be there. It was in this very residential area with lots of streets closed to traffic, and it wasn't close enough to the downtown finish area for them to have walked. I knew mile 24 was more convenient, and figured that's what he'd meant.

But oh, was I tired. So, so tired. My quads were trashed. My feet hurt. My fuel was running low. I was over it all. And right there, right there, is where the mental element of training kicks in. I started reminding myself of how I'd sworn I'd dig deep when it got hard. And finally, and shockingly on pace, I got to the mile 24 marker, and there were my amazing boys, cheering their hearts out for me. I told Mr. Joanna that I was on track but without much of a cushion. He knew this already because I was a minute behind the 3:55 pacer, but I didn't know that until much later.

As much as my body, and even my brain, were putting on the brakes, I was at the ready to overcome them, begrudgingly. The distance was passing more and more slowly, and I knew that soon I would not be able to make myself go faster. This was my arsenal of mental tricks to power through:

• I'd trained over 1000 miles for this. There was no chance in hell I'm letting go of my goal with [fill in the number] miles left. 
• So what if my feet hurt? 
• Remember how bitter that day in Cleveland was, and how long I've waited to vindicate myself at this distance. 
• This, this right here, this running while exhausted, this is what I've trained for. This is why I've trained on tired legs. This is why I've trained 5 days a week. For this moment. For powering through when I'm spent. For this. Now. 
• Turn off the brain, turn on auto pilot. My body can handle this. I've trained it to handle this. 
• I have a small cushion. I can slow down if I absolutely have to. A little. A very little.  

I ran mile 25 about 20 seconds slower than my goal pace. At about 25.6 I saw my boys again. Please let me be done--keep pushing--I want to be done, I'm so tired--one foot in front of the other--less than a mile. All I could manage to say was, "I'm so close!" I finished out mile 26 about 15 seconds slower than my target pace. 

A few more turns and I found myself looking down the straightaway at the finish line, one turn sooner than I'd expected. I heard my boys before I saw them, twice actually, and I finally spotted them on the left, near the leading edge of the crowd of spectators. I high-fived Mr. Joanna and our older son--there was no way I wasn't going to share this with them--and barreled down, such as I could, to the finish. 

I crossed the line, stopped my Garmin, and yelled. I'd done it. I'd finished in under 4 hours. 

Garmin time: 3:56:16

Chip time: 3:56:13

Gender place: 65/309

Overall: 199/657

The uncontrollable rush of emotions and adrenaline came pouring over me. I recapped to my boys, tried not to cry, drank chocolate milk, and started to cool down and stretch. I was incredulous, but I'd really done it. 

Finally, we headed back to my friend's to have lunch, hang out, and pick up my things, then head home. I'm writing this on Sunday night and I'm sore as anything, but wouldn't trade it for the world. What an experience. Thank you all for following my journey!

Utah Valley Half Race Report

Ahhh, what a wonderful, whirlwind few days it's been. It's been epic, and so shall be this race report! And so it begins:

Thursday morning after the usual frenzied kid drop-offs, I headed to the airport to pick up my friend Rachel, who was flying in for from St. Louis vacation time and to run the Utah Valley half with me. After getting her stuff deposited at the house, we headed out for some ridiculously yummy lunch at Niche (elk burger's to die for y'all), then in the afternoon decided to head downtown for a tour of Temple Square (where the Mormon temple is, along with their visitors center, tabernacle, and other buildings). There are several varieties of these tours available, and I'm not sure we found the one we were really looking for, but that was fine. I learned more about the Mormon faith and history. After the tour we went through part of the Church History Museum. While the Mormon faith is not one I am looking to join, I really appreciated the time and welcome given to us by the missionaries who led our tour. I'm happy to know a bit more about their faith. Afterward, we wandered across the street to the grand City Creek Mall for a little retail relaxation.

On Friday we got up into the mountains, first for breakfast then for some exploring in Emigration Canyon. You might recall that I described the same trip taken another day here. Gorgeous day, gorgeous terrain, great company (my older son joined us too).

At Emigration Canyon

After dropping my son back off at home so he could go to his afternoon activities, we headed to Provo to hit up the expo and drive the course. The expo was typical--no surprises there, except the guy wearing his 2014 Boston jacket despite the 80+ degree day. I'll return to this detail later. 

Packets in hand, we headed up Provo Canyon to the start line for the race, then turned around and drove the course. This is something I've come to appreciate doing. Sometimes the hills that look inconsequential on an elevation profile map turn out to be a HUGE F'ING DEAL on race day. It's also great to be able to anticipate where there will and won't be shade, where the course will be on partially-open roads and where it's on residential streets, etc. An added bonus for this race: the course is jaw-droppingly beautiful, so we got to play in nature a little bit. 

We went down to the water's edge and dipped our toes in. That water was COLD!

Tunnels in races--love them or hate them?

We turned in early Friday night--I was in bed by 9:25, my race clothes laid out for morning and my gear ready to pick up and go. Predictably, I slept in fits, waking every 90 minutes or so, until the alarm went off at 2am. Race day!

Bibbed up and ready!

I was really startled to find a packet of leg cramps in my race bag. Don't they know we're trying to race?!?

You know the routine. Stumble out of bed. Fall into the clothes so carefully laid out the night before. Force yourself to eat, or bag the breakfast & force yourself to eat on the way to the race (the latter happened in my case). I have to hand it to Rachel here. She had no trouble at all downing an entire pre-race sandwich and chocolate milk. Girl's got this running nutrition thing figured out.

We arrived at the race parking lot at 3:30, just as planned. We did some last minute drop-bag adjustments, donned our throw-away clothes, and boarded a bus up the canyon to the start line. Once there, we huddled momentarily around one of the many bonfires before Rachel decided to do a little warm-up. When she came back we abandoned the fire (and its smoke) for a darker, colder spot near the port-a-potties (of which we made repeated use) and the start line. In line for our final trip through the port-a-potties, we were behind a shirtless runner. It was maybe 50 degrees out. We were wearing Goodwill zip-up hoodies and I was still chilly. We were giving each other looks like, can you believe this guy? I'll return to this, and Boston jacket man, again below.

At the start line, dancing in the pale moonlight

The start area was laid back, and I loved it. They played music, let us know when the bag drop van was coming, and didn't roll out the timing mats until maybe 20 minutes before start time. We watched the sky start to lighten behind the mountains as sunrise approached. As we got near the start time, Rachel and I split up to find our pacing groups. I waffled about starting with the group, then remembered her telling me about a race where being known by the pacers had really been what pulled her through. So I approached the 1:50 group and introduced myself. The pacer was really energetic and outgoing. He asked what my goal was, what my PR was, where I earned it and when. Then assured me that I was going to crush it. I chalked it up to pre-race enthusiasm on his part but appreciated it none the less!

In all of this excitement, it never occurred to me to turn on my Garmin. $h*t!! With less than a minute to go I started the satellite-finding process (did I mention that we were in the middle of nowhere??). With maybe 5 seconds until the gun, it found a satellite, I breathed a sigh of relief, and we were off. Since the half was only 1500 runners, we sort of casually walked to the start line before running.

The pacer's plan was to bank a little time in the first two miles, then spend it in the ~175 feet of elevation gain we would face in mile 3. It's a fine plan, but as I'd planned to negative split, I let the pace group get a bit ahead of me while I hung back. Second reason to hold back: my right shin was cramping. This had happened during our Thursday late morning run, and for a few minutes I really worried that I'd tied my right shoe too tight and would lose feeling in my foot. Thank goodness, the cramp eased up and my pacing plan worked. I headed into the big mile 3 hill feeling good. It's by far the hardest spot in the course, and I took it without incident. I didn't know it then, but Rachel was facing altitude issues through these early miles, which we'd known was a risk coming from sea level.

Splits: 8:25, 8:11, 8:42

The hill reached its apex just after mile marker 4, then a steep descent followed before the course became more gradual, easing out of the canyon around mile 7. I took the steep descent just a hair too fast and paid the price in my quads, but was having a blast. I felt strong, felt good, and when I started to get tense I repeated Coach Mike's race mantra, run easy, run free. By about mile marker 5 I'd caught the pace group again. This time I didn't let them go. The scenery was breathtaking. The sun was rising, casting shadowy light across the rocky edges of the mountains. Gorgeous.

Splits: 8:27, 8:07, 8:02, 8:17

The one and only timing mat on-course was at 9.17. Random, I know. This timing mat also housed a fun new service where people could make a sign for runners, have their picture taken with it at the expo, then that picture was displayed on a huge screen at this spot on the course. Rachel and I made signs for each other and it was fun to watch for mine to show up on the board. There she was, holding a sign that said "Joanna: you'd better negative split!" I fist pumped and yelled "Yes ma'am!!" At this point my quads were starting to whisper about being tired, and I knew it, but I was ignoring them. The rest of me was feeling great. And I was really enjoying the casual, lighthearted, fun conversation going on in the pace group.

A few miles prior, my pace group leader had told me that I was looking strong, so after the (much smaller) hill at mile 10.5, he thought I should go ahead of the group. Dutifully, right after that hill he sent me on my way. I thought 2.5 miles out was too far out to gun it, so I went ahead of the group but sped up only a little. I kept gradually pushing the pace until I hit 12.1.

Splits: 8:15, 8:13, 8:11, 8:06, 7:59

One mile left to go. Slight downhill. I could see the finish line. All of that = international sign for let it fly. I flew down the final few blocks, past the huge banner on the side of a building that read "FINISH STRONG", and toward the finish. I'd trained for this last mile. I thought about all those speed sessions. I glanced at my Garmin and wondered if I could finish under 1:48. I pushed hard. I was farther out than I thought, and couldn't quite make it in, but I came close, and I didn't care. I'd exceeded my goal for the season. I'd finished in 1:48:04. A freaking 5 minute PR.

Splits: 7:47, 1:21 (distance read 13.15)

Although Rachel and I had a plan in place just in case we couldn't find each other, she was standing almost immediately over the finish line waiting for me. Panting, I showed her my Garmin. And she'd hit her goal too, of going sub-1:40 for the first time. We were flying high on adrenalin. What an incredible feeling!! I honestly cannot describe it. Just bursting at the seams with energy and excitement and badassery!

We walked slowly through the finish area, picking up that all-hallowed Utah staple, Creamies, plus water and a few other snacks. We left the finish area, wandering to get post-race "massages" (really assisted stretching), watch the elite full marathoners come in (we met the family of the #5 overall full finisher--really nice folks), and eventually retrieve our bags, take pictures, pick up Rachel's plaque for finishing fifth in her division (again, badassery), and eventually find the buses back to the parking area.

Since Rachel was visiting the western US, we'd planned for some "passive recovery" at In & Out Burger on the way home. Being my inaugural trip, I wasn't sure what to expect. The rumors are true. It's a little bit magical. The whole menu is about 15 items, total, and it's super cheap. I practically inhaled my cheeseburger and milkshake, plus a coffee from the Starbucks next door (one cannot survive on the caffeine found in Gu alone!).

In & Out Burger

When we got home, I promptly collapsed on the couch and was so far asleep that when a phone alert woke me up 30 minutes later, it took me a few seconds to figure out where I was and who was in my house. Out cold. Slowly I pried myself up, got a shower, and moved on with the day. And what a day it was! Rachel and I took my older son to Antelope Island, this magical place at the Great Salt Lake where bison and antelope roam, migratory birds appear, and lots and lots and lots of bugs swarm the shores in the summer. Getting down to the shore, then getting back up, was by far the most disgusting hike of my life. There were so many insects on the rocks that they hummed and appeared darker from a few feet away, until you realized that it was thousands of tiny black insects hovering just above the rock surface. Then there are the brine shrimp, but we won't get into that.

Rachel & my kiddo. It was an unholy mess getting down to the shore, but we made it.

That evening we had a yummy dinner out, where Rachel and I hatched the plan to someday do a race where our sole purpose is mockery of race stereotypes--clearly inspired by the few we saw along the way. Our weekend would include:

• gratuitous appearances of elite race jackets
• showing up just in time to run to the last bus/train/car heading for the start line
• unnecessary clothing removal, including both going shirtless and wearing teeny, tiny spandex shorts that stretch credulity
• matching shirts on race day that aren't the race t-shirt
• running 4 abreast in mile 1
• sprinting past clearly newbie runners in the chute to claim a 2:30 finish time, while wearing our matching shirts, and while clutching hands and screaming

What else am I missing? Who wants in on our escapade? It's going to be fun. 

And there you have it. A wonderful, relaxing, adventuresome race weekend. Rachel and I have had an easy friendship from the moment we met volunteering at Rock & Roll St. Louis in 2011. I can't wait to see what other adventures in running lie ahead for us!

Final stats

Chip time: 1:48:04

Pace: 8:15

Overall place: 222/1503

Gender place: 88

Division place: 20/156