I dug deep.
My body wanted to quit. That little voice kept saying "you went out too fast. You can't keep this up. You're hurting too much. Just give up now and walk."
I beat that voice into submission.
And I walked away with a PR of over a minute off my half-marathon time.
Since you couldn't be there to witness the race day with me, let's backtrack a bit so I can give you the full details of the race.
4am (90 min to start): wake-up. First thing I run to the coffee maker. This may be TMI for most of you readers out there, but those of you who have raced with me know how important the pre-race poo is. I am a mess until that magical moment. Coffee helps, um, accelerate things, so I make sure it hit it up first thing. I then proceeded to have a slice of whole wheat bread with peanut butter and half a banana. Then I get all suited up, including plenty of bag balm on my chafe-prone areas. I listened to some pump-me-up music while I loosened up the legs and then jumped on my bike. I live about a mile from the start, so I decided to pedal down to the beginning. Right before I left (45 mins till start) I had a powerbar and 3 advil to numb the tendonitis.
5am (30 min to start): Grab my timing chip and make my way to the bathroom line. Dudes, here's a suggestion for you: no one wants to hear you talk about your BM schedule. While waiting in line, I overheard the following spoken by a dude (Seriously, I'm not making this up):
"Well, I don't know. I mean, I feel like I can go, so I guess I'll be able to. But I'm off my schedule. I mean, I usually go every day at 5:30, right on schedule. Since it's only 5 I don't know if it's gonna happen, but I feel like it may be time"Gross.
After that lovely encounter, I headed to the start. I assumed there would be a timing mat at the start, so I didn't worry too much about my position (I later found out I was wrong. It was a gun start). The gun went off, and I settled into a groove.
The Race: Miles 1-3: These were the miles in which I was trying to determine a good pace. As I've mentioned, I've been dealing with some tendonitis and for the past few weeks couldn't run below an 8:00 pace, so I wasn't sure what my body could handle. The Garmin beeped after the first mile: 8:02 (
okay, that's fine. It took you about 20 seconds to cross the start. Let's just pick up the pace a bit now, k?) I proceeded to start passing the people who went out too fast, and started to decide what pack I wanted to settle in to, and started deciding if my leg would let me actually race this thing. Once I made it past the first aid station at mile 3, I realized all systems were a go. Race is on.
Miles 4-8: The mental zone. Here is where self-doubt first creeps in. I started getting faster and faster splits, but started feeling worse and worse. Although my leg was still cooperating, I began to doubt my endurance. The first time I thought of quitting was at mile 4. That thought lasted about 1/4 of a mile. Once I worked through the demons I was okay. When I turned on the Kalanianaole Highway, I encountered a pretty substantial headwind. I thought I could get behind this tall guy to draft a bit, but apparently he didn't like that. He kept looking back and me and doing a lot of excessive spitting. He then began to push the pace. I let him for a bit, then dropped back. No use wasting extra energy this early. (I did end up passing him later on in the race, haha!) At the turn around I saw a friendly face from my running group, which gave me the extra boost I needed.
Miles 8-12: The dark zone. Here is where things get really ugly. Almost as soon as I hit mile 8, I was struck with a severe side stitch.
Whoa! Where did you come from? I have no idea what prompted it, but it was certainly an unwelcome addition to my race. I ended up dropping the pace about 20 seconds for that split, and luckily after a mile it was gone. While it was occurring it was time to take my gel. I debated taking it, because I wasn't sure if taking the gel would worsen the side stitch. I took it anyways, but took it with only a few sips of water as a precaution. It didn't seem to have any effect on the side stitch. At mile 9 I started to suffer. Boy did I want to slow down. Boy did I want to walk. Every half mile I was tempted by the walking devil. I tried to push the voices out of my head and move on, but I was starting to feel defeated. The worst was at mile 10, right as we started climbing Diamondhead. I'm not exaggerating when I say I was seconds away from stopping. I started feeling very cold, and very, very woozy. Right when I was about to stop, a stronger, wiser voice popped in my head. It said
"FL, if you walk right now you will not be able to forgive yourself. Think of how hard it will be to look yourself in the mirror. You want to be able to say that you gave 100% in this race. Even if you collapse. Now go. RUN." That voice snapped some logic in my head. Instead of walking, I pulled back on the pace a bit. I really wasn't feeling well, but knew walking was not the answer. I could see the top of Diamondhead---just make it to the top of the hill!--- and knew that in less than a mile I would be home free.
Mile 12-13.2: The end. Once I crested Diamondhead I knew it was just a long steady downhill followed by a flat section. Since I was still feeling horribly woozy, I used the downhill to recover instead of speeding up. Even though I just let gravity pull me, I still passed by a few people. I made the turn into the park, and had about .6 miles to go. That's when the true suffering began. I was done---the tank was running on fumes. I struggled to keep my pace, but was afraid I wasn't going to make it. Usually in the races on this course I have enough left to sprint this last half mile, but for the first time I felt like I was running out of gas. I kept my head down and focused on steps....one step at a time. Keep the pace. Breathe. When I looked up, I saw the balloon arch in the distance, but the damn thing wouldn't stay still! That's when I realized everything in my vision was moving around.
Oh geez, FL, pull yourself together. How embarrassing would it be to pass out in a half marathon? Come on! I focused on keeping the steady pace. Just make it to the arch. Make it to the arch. As I entered the chute I realized I nailed my PR by over a minute. YESSSSSSSS! The volunteer took off my timing chip, and I started walking to the aid tables, but realized I wasn't going to make it. I half collapsed on the statue of Queen Liliuokalani and stayed in a bent position for a good minute.
Don't pass out. Don't vomit. Breathe. As crappy as I felt, I was also pretty happy. So THIS is what it feels like to give 100% in a race! Cool!
End time? Well, I don't actually remember. I think it was 1:41:30ish, but official results will be posted online soon. Keep in mind that is gun time, too, and it took me a bit to cross the mat. Although I got 2nd in my AG and picked up some bling:
I first had to rush home to take care of some business. You see, I've been keeping a
BIG SECRETfrom you guys (although I'm sure some of you may have suspected it). After much deliberation, I made a big commitment today.
November 6, 2010. My first Ironman. And so a new chapter begins in the Frayed Laces saga.
