It’s Been an Interesting Week

Last Sunday, the day before Presidents’ Day, we got the never welcome call of my husband’s grandfather passing away. He was 94, so, this really is not that unexpected – he lived a long, full life. One of the drawbacks of living out here in beautiful weather, miles of beaches, and bountiful produce is that we are thousands of miles from the rest of our family (aside from my parents who followed me out here). Anytime we get those calls, it’s a last minute scramble of flight booking, asking for time off, trying to get as much work done as possible, etc, etc.

So knowing running would be tougher to do out there, I tried to squeeze in a bunch of miles before we left. Sunday: 3 miles, Monday: 12 miles, Tuesday: 3 miles, Wednesday: 8 miles.

We took the red-eye Wednesday night and the plane was a million degrees. Like Sauna Cabin. And full – no seats open. Normally, I am always cold. On this plane I was sweating. And so was everyone else. I got approximately 30 minutes of sleep. Awesome. Three more hours of driving after we land in Philly and we get out to my husband’s home town (he is from the sticks of PA). I manage to get few more hours of sleep. Surprise, surprise, Friday morning I wake up with that telltale sore throat telling me I get to be sick for the next week.

Suffice to say that even though I packed my running stuff, I did not run.

Saturday was the funeral service which was nice and familiar (he was Catholic unlike my husband’s parents who are Presbyterian and Episcopalian, so I felt kind of at home).  So many people showed up – his grandparents are very well known and loved in their town (his obituary made the front page of their local paper). I spent that entire day in tights since it was a high of 38. It made me thankful I don’t have to do that out here. Pantyhose suck.

Sunday we flew back and the last 30 minutes were miserable – with my headcold, the pressure of the descent made my ear drums feel like they were going to explode. Very unsettling/scary feeling when there is nothing you can do to relieve the pressure. Tried all the tricks but the sinus congestion prevented anything from working. I didn’t feel normal until Tuesday (two days).

I went five days without running. Monday I had an all day training at work and spent the entire day chasing calls from Wells Fargo and the title company concerning our refinance because they are finally ready to close (a month+ late). Of course when I have maximum craziness going on in my day-to-day life. I finally got a 3 miler in yesterday and while my body and breathing were fine – but my sinuses are still touch and go (my teeth hurt during the run – weird). We signed docs last night with the mobile notary and this morning I have to run to the bank to wire the remaining funds required from our end.

Oh, and lets not forget that I have to run a marathon in 5 days in New Orleans.

I am kind of worried it’s going to be a bad race.

The Next 5 Weeks and Change

Back in September or October the bad influence that is Twitter and following other runners resulted in me registering for Rock n’ Roll New Orleans Marathon because (1) running peer-pressure, and (2) I can’t say no to a ridiculously good deal. Basically, I paid just under $44 to register for the full marathon thanks to the New Orleans Saints demolishing the Indianapolis Colts – $55 off the normal price ($1 for each point they scored over the Colts).

Prior to my piriformis bull sh*t, I really had never gotten injured to the point where it was physically painful to run. So, I thought I was effing invincible! I had decided I would not only run Carlsbad full marathon, but also Palm Springs Half, the Tough Mudder in Temecula, AND RnR NOLA full. Yeaahhh, I managed to pull something out of my ass on Sunday and run better than I expected, but that won’t happen at NOLA again unless I plan out my next 6 weeks very carefully.

And by carefully, I mean this here piece of steno pad paper pinned to my cube wall:

Its looks may be deceiving but it is a well-engineered plan.

Six weeks allows for a full reverse 3-week taper all the way back up to 20 miles. I also decided there will be no half marathon racing business. No. Back away from the registration button (it’s like being an addict or something – it’s a daily thing I have to tell myself). I might allow a 5K, maaaaaybe a 10K, but anything more is dangerous (injury-wise). Nevermind I’ve already committed to that Tough Mudder business though I hope my team will accept that I won’t be killing myself in that race. Not with a marathon less than a week later. If it’s not acceptable, then I just won’t run it.

The other thing to note is the little scribble with the arrow pointing to the Wednesday column: “Informal tempo/speed work”. I am not scheduling tempos or speedwork because I don’t think, for a marathon, they are going to buy me any more than just plain old increasing my mileage. I had a tempo or speedwork every other week (not during back down weeks) for Carlsbad training. So not much speedwork. Result was  a pretty significant improvement to my half marathon race time (4+ minutes), and I exceeded my marathon expectations even had I not missed my final 22 miler. So, if I feel like my hip and legs want to run a little faster, I might throw in some quicker miles in the scheduled easy pace run, or perhaps some 1-2 minute pickups/fartleks. But mileage is what I’ll be focusing on since the next 6 weeks is for RnR NOLA. 

Carlsbad Marathon & Taming the Pain in My Ass

For lack of a better idea, I spent last week following the previously maligned RW SmartCoach’s final week while trying to figure out why all the rolling I was doing for my IT band wasn’t doing diddly squat for my butt pain. After Googling a bunch of words relating to hip, back, butt, running, pain, etc, I must have achieved the correct combination to point me to piriformis. Descriptions of the symptoms fit almost exactly what has been happening to my left leg. I started doing some weird piriformis strengthening and stretching exercises on Tuesday, and by Thursday, I was feeling 90% better. This was a good sign but I was still feeling apprehensive about Sunday.

Throughout the week I had been chatting with running ladies about my last 22-miler that didn’t happen and how I felt like I might hit The Wall in the marathon earlier than I should (like mile 16 or something). Everyone assured me it would be ok. Pam told me to “trust my taper” and that I had a good base –their reassurances helped me not dwell on my too-long taper and allowed me to not psyche myself out of the race before I even got to the start.

I picked up my bib on Saturday morning – quick and painless. Because I  had a very busy week at work I didn’t have time to hit up RRS for Clif Shot Bloks, so I figured I’d get them at the expo. While the one vendor had lots of flavors, it was 50 cents more than RRS (booo! $2 instead of $1.50) and there was a $10 minimum credit card charge (I never carry cash), so I ended up buying a Brooks hat I didn’t really need (though I’ll use it) to make up the missing $6.

Saturday night I mixed my gatorade, filled my ancient fuel belt bottles (from 2002!), packed my shot blocks, and laid out my running outfit which was all kinds of Bargain Basement: Old Navy shorts, Old Navy sports bra, Walmart/Danskin top (cotton blend – I’m a cotton fan, as long as it’s fitted, I don’t have any chaffing issues), CEP calf sleeves, Walmart/Danskin running socks, Brooks hat (expo purchase), and my Brooks Ravenna kicks.

I went to bed at 9:15pm which was completely pointless. I tossed and turned past 11:30pm. Alarm went off at 4am. I am thinking I got about 4 hours of sleep. Thankfully I had slept in Saturday morning so I figured I had some in the bank. Showered, drank a latte, had a banana and half a bagel with peanut butter, a few bathrooms stops and I was in the car at 5:02am.

At 5:12am I was parked (yay, local/hometown race!). I picked the first possible spot from the entrance/exit of the mall off El Camino Real. If you ever run this race, I highly recommend you either park like I did: super close to the exit, or park outside the mall. The traffic getting out is a nightmare – last year it took us an hour to get to the exit.

I body glided the crap out of every spot that has ever chaffed in a long run, took my throwaway bag for my throwaway gear, and made the 5 minute walk to the start (the downside to parking for an easy exit). Nicole texted me that she was at the porta potties – I found her getting blog-recognized by another reader/runner. We chatted a bit and then made one more bathroom stop before walking to the start.

Because Sarah is always dressed so damn cute, I spotted her immediately, about 5 feet in front of us in the start chute. We went over to hang out with her and Dave, pacer extraordinaire, for a few minutes. You could feel the pre-race anticipation feeling in all of us – it doesn’t escape anyone, even the speedster SR who has run 26 marathons. The National Anthem was sung (and, boy, maybe the singer was nervous, but she travelled through three different keys – all over the place), and then around 6:02am we were off! In the dark!

Nicole and I ran together the first mile and a half – she was taking it easy so I just stuck with her because the pace felt fine. But in the back of my head I knew that Nicole’s “easy” was not my “easy” pace. I couldn’t really see my Garmin in the dark, but I managed to catch it in a few street lights and could see that we were in the mid 8’s. I had planned low-to-mid 9’s for the first few miles, so even though my body was rearing to go with 8:40 pace, my head said it was a bad idea. So somewhere on Jefferson St, I let her go and took it down notch.

Mile 1: 8:43 (26 feet up, 24 feet down)

Mile 2: 8:41 (18 up, 48 down)

Mile 3: 9:07 (37 up, 0 down)

Lots of folks were passing me once I decided to slow it down a bit, but I didn’t care. I did not want to bonk at mile 16 like I did at San Diego RnR in 2003. At mile 3, I went with what has been working for me in races, and took my first shot blok. Tropical Punch flavor – wasn’t too bad, it’s palatable. I couldn’t help myself when I saw them at the expo. Blue running fuel?! Yes.

The sky was starting to get light and you could see the sunrise to the east of the 101 with the ocean on the right. I tried to say present, breathe in the ocean smell, marvel at the views as we ran down the 101 south toward Palomar Airport Road.

Mile 4: 9:01 (0 up, 37 down)

Mile 5: 9:13 (45 up, 0 down)

Mile 6 is when turned inland, east on Palomar Airport Rd starting the climb to the peak elevation of the race – 322 feet above sea level. At this point, I had somehow gotten .15 miles behind the mile markers. I think part of it was the weaving I initially did and not paying attention to tangents. I knew the hills were coming so I was going to continue my conservative pace.

Mile 6: 8:51 (19 up, 8 down)

Mile 7: 9:03 (57 up, 27 down)

Mile 8: 9:00 (89 up, 26 down)

Here we did some weird little loop off the main road; just before we turned, I managed to catch a glimpse of the lead males but because of the loop I missed the lead females. I commiserated a bit with another runner about when the stinkin’ hills were going to be over already, and as we merged back with Palomar Airport Road, a saw a blond in a fuchsia skirt on the other side – Sarah killing it down the hill. I bellowed something at her like “Go Sarah, You got it!” – I generally sound like a dude if I yell while running. Shortly thereafter as I was climbing the piece of crap hill, I saw Nicole cruising down and yell-cheered for her.

Mile 9: 9:08 (160 up, 26 down) <— biggest climbing mile

At the turn around and down the hill, I kept hearing 5:45am Nicole talking about how it was dangerous after mile 10, meaning that it is easy to just pick up the pace down the hill – too early – and crap out. So as we approached the descent, I held back. Even after the runner I chatted with at mile 8 passed me and commented about making up the time on the downhill, I told her I was taking it easy trying not to waste any energy.

Mile 10: 8:44 (57 up, 36 down)

Mile 11: 8:32 (0 up, 146 down)  <—definitely holding back

Mile 12: 8:48 (3 up, 69 down)

The course took another little off-shoot up Avenida Encinas. I finished my last tropical punch block at mile 13. I felt like I wasn’t drinking enough – I had four 7-ounce bottles and had gone through maybe 1.25 bottles. So I made myself drink at various points even when I didn’t feel like it. At mile 13, I took an ibuprofen just in case my hip started bothering me.

Mile 13: 8:49 (54 up, 81 down)

Mile 14: 8:39 (0 up, 20 down)

At this point, I felt like maybe I was going too fast because I hadn’t seen a 9:xx mile since mile 9. But I kept asking myself, honestly and objectively, if I felt like I could do this for 12 more miles. The answer was never “no”, so I kept going with the same level of effort.

Mile 15: 8:46 (7 up, 0 down)

At mile 15 we merged with the halfers which kind of tripped me out. My average pace through mile 15 was 8:52 (thanks Garmin CSV data export!), but I had merged with sub-1:45 half runners who were at mile 5! At one point I felt a herd of people coming up behind me – I literally looked behind to my left and right because I could just feel their energy behind me. It was the 1:45 pace group. They enveloped me for about 10 seconds and then pulled away – I had to tell myself to stick to my own pace,  not the herd’s pace.

Mile 16: 8:45 (31 up, 46 down)

Shortly after 16, the halfers turned around – but the signage only said “half marathon turn around.” Marathon brain had me a bit confused - I figured I had to continue south on the 101 but it was messing with my head. I looked ahead and saw maybe three runners in the distance, and one lady to my right going straight as well. She told me I was going the right way since she could tell I was all kinds of bewildered. We went from lots of runners on the course, to very few.

Mile 17: 8:37  (24 up, 0 down)

Somewhere after mile 16/17, I grabbed a GU from a volunteer because my brain I had done some incorrect math that predicted I would run out of shot blocks at mile 23 (taking every odd mile from mile 3 on). Turns out, two packs was just enough – with the last pack being the freak-nasty tasting margarita flavor that I figured I should eat for the extra salt. I saw Sarah again on the other side of the 101, she looked positive and in good spirits – but like she was working hard. This time I only had the energy to wave hello rather than say anything.

Mile 18: 8:36 (17 up, 67 down)

Mile 19: 8:56 (58 up, 31 down)

Mile 18 is uphill to the turn around at La Costa Ave – my Garmin splits show the climb in both mile 18 & 19 as I was behind .19 miles from the markers at that point. This is one of the tough spots on the course and I didn’t take it lightly. I consider myself lucky because I am so familiar with this road. I have run that hill so many times – I knew it’s severity and I knew how fast to go up it while still conserving energy. But it’s still ball-buster after 18 miles. I took the other ibuprofen I had stashed in my belt as additional hip-pain and inflammation insurance.

Mile 20:  8:39 (26 up, 0 down)

We had rejoined the halfers, but it was taped off leaving a small but adequate path for the marathoners. I started passing people. You could see the Mile 20 Wall hitting people – I kept wondering when I was going to run face first into it.

One lady good-naturedly lamented about the pain – I tried to reassure her: “Less than an hour and we’re done! Less than an hour!” As I said it I realized how absurd it sounded. An hour is a long time to be in pain. Then I passed the woman I chatted with at mile 8 on the hills, “You again!” “Yup!” was all I was all I could spit out. She then said something to the effect of “good job” and I returned the words encouragement.

Mile 21: 8:35 (40 up, 52 down)

Mile 22: 8:31 (0 up, 7 down)

Here is where I started feeling some fatigue. Yeah, I was obviously kind of tired from running 22 miles, but I wasn’t hurting. However, my legs had entered a mileage they were not accustomed to. I began to wonder if I could sustain the 8:30’s. But I was unwilling to slow down.

Mile 23: 8:30 (0 up, 42 down)

Somewhere around here, the taped off path for the marathoners ended and it was just orange cones which were pointless. We had merged with halfers running a 2:20 finish time pace. Not ideal, especially since this is the bulk of the half finishers. Up to this point, I had managed to sustain the same .17-.19 mile delta between my garmin and the markers, but from here on out, I had to throw tangents out the windows and weave and dodge.

Mile 24: 8:41 (36 up, 0 down)

There were spectators on the course, people on bikes – it was making me nuts. Seriously, the frustration was bubbling up. I was curtly calling out “on your left!” and “on your right!” I was trying to maintain 8:30 pace and the rest of the halfers were at 10:30. At the turn to Laguna Dr, I got an elbow into my left shoulder as I tried to sneak around a runner. There was one last aid station at mile 24.5 and the anger I felt here trying to get through bubbled up and I let out an angry growl. It was so hard to keep running, and at a pace the was faster than the rest of my race had been. To get blocked and have to run around people made me bonkers.

Mile 25: 8:28 (30 up, 34 down)

We had all of Jefferson street at our disposal , yet everyone was crammed to the right. I decided to ride the double yellow line to get around people but it was a pretty steep bank. I passed some dudes dressed like Police Officer Strippers (it was pretty funny – they had on tight shorts and mirror aviator sunglasses) – they were running with the group telling them that it was time to kick it in. I weaved around them. “There’s a kicker! Go get it!” They had seen me making my way through the runners. I appreciated the cheering but I was hurting.

Mile 26: 8:06 (16 up, 39 down)

Where the f*** if the finish!?! I knew my garmin was behind, I just didn’t know by how much. At 26.2 I looked down and it was 3:49:xx. I just kept pushing – my breathing was labored for the first time in the last 4 hours. Finally I saw the turn to the chute.

Just like the half marathon turn around, the herd went right, and I went left with the one marathoner I could see ahead of me. I made the ugliest face ever and pushed to the finish.

Last .47: 3:42 – 7:57 pace

Official time: 3:51:10, 8:49 pace (garmin: 3:51:11, 8:44)

I nearly cried after I crossed the finish line. I had to stop myself because I felt like that would be embarrassing. It was hard and a significant effort, but not enough to cry about it. The feeling passed after a minute or so. Maybe 60 seconds after I finished, my phone rang – the Husband had shown up at the finish! I was so grateful to see him. I was feeling emotional – relieved, happy, proud, and exhausted. He didn’t really want to hug my nasty sweaty body, but I forced him to accept that I was going to hug him.

We walked to the bag check and the line was so ridiculously long, I decided I didn’t care if I lost my throwaway pants, gloves, and home-made arm warmers. We met up with Heather and Sarah (who ran 3:14:xx!!! 9th female!) and headed off to brunch to celebrate and laugh our butts off with Nicole (who might be the funniest chick ever).

Here’s to hoping I can repeat this at RnR New Orleans in March!

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Oh, and before I forget, Aspaeris who is sponsoring our Ragnar Ultra team is offering 50% off (that is a crazy discount) compression shorts with the code cooleronline. 

Hope You Didn’t Come Here Expecting Goals

Or a “Year in Review” – I am too lazy to drudge the information up! And it’s not really my style – I have never made a New Year’s Resolution in my life.

Anyway.

Since 2002 after getting a gait analysis done at a running store in Marina Del Rey, I have always assumed I was an pronator.  Assumed I have low arches and need to be in at least stability shoes, maybe even light motion control. I had stuck myself in this classification without thinking a second thought about it after that first assessment. Until I did a RRS Shoe Dog analysis in August 2010 which revealed I actually actually have high arches and only have a semi-flexible pronation happening on the left.  Visually, my arches don’t look high - I have wide, square feet a la Fred Flintstone.

Thanks to that weird weight/heat sensing thing you stand on for analysis, I found out that I have been wrong all along. Running in heavy-ass stability and motion control shoes for no good reason.

The latest long-standing assumption to fall for me was the idea that I am a heel striker. I have no idea where I got this run – I think I figured I just must be since that seems like what most runners are. I don’t know.

I started thinking about how many steps I take per minute on my standard easy pace… and it’s generally 175-185. Considering I’m not running that fast, that high of a cadence means I have got to be working a shorter stride length which is not inline with your standard heel-striker. Over the last week I have been thinking about mid-race photos, watching how my feet land when I run, stealing glances of my legs in the reflection of parked cars along the 101…

Midfoot, midfoot, midfoot.

I have no idea why I thought I was a heel striker.

What does this change? Shoes.

If I am a neutral midfoot striker, a lower heel-to-toe drop could work well and possibly be a better fit for my gait. Knowing that my left foot has some pronation and may not work 100% in a minimal drop neutral shoe, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and cough up the dough for RRS custom insoles. I also tried on a whole slew of neutral shoes with lower heel-to-toe ratios including the Saucony Kinvara (which I hate to say because of all the hype around them, I loved).

In the end, my old standard Brooks Ravenna 2 won out. Yes, it’s stability (minimal, though) but it only has a 9mm heel-to-toe drop – one of the lowest of all the Brooks trainers aside from the newest PureConnect. All this time running in the Ravennas, I had no idea – all I knew is I liked how easy it felt to run in them. And it’s only 9 ounces. Sunday, I put in my new custom insoles and ran 15 miles right out of the box. No blisters, no chaffing, no aches. Man, I love that shoe. I hope they don’t mess with it.

But I could not forget about how good those stinkin’ Kinvaras felt! So I drank the Kool-Aid and ordered a pair online (got a sweet deal from The Running Center’s website). I used to think I could run in a minimal drop shoe, but, I’m beginning to think I just make that up in my mind along with the heel striker and the low arches.

Anyone else have these types of weird self-realization Eureka moments?

Boxing Day Grinches and Will I Survive My 22-Miler

According to the folks at the Houston Area Road Runners Association, I didn’t run a real official race on Monday but tell that to my sore ass and back! Seriously, though, if you want to read about appalling adult temper tantrums go read this rundown of the story. If you’re pissed enough tweet about it or forward it to your friends.

Since my body certainly feels like it ran a real half marathon on Monday, I have been reevaluating my marathon training schedule. It really isn’t an unreasonable schedule – it’s very similar to how I trained for LA in ‘03 (an 18, two 20’s, and a 22). And I was very prepared for that race (negative split on a 75 degree day). However, what I didn’t do back then was race my back down weeks in between 20 milers and then also throw in a mid-week tempo run to boot.

I have never had back issues in my life. Yet as I write this, my lower back, left side, is an achy mother f****r. Not too far away is a sore upper left IT band. Coincidence? I think not.

So, I’ve decided no more racing until Carlsbad. And also? No tempo run this week or next. Isn’t racing a half marathon more than enough “tempo”? I don’t know why this just occurred to me, but, duh. It’s harder than a tempo run. I am going to try to get the same mileage in this week but slower. I ran 5 miles yesterday and felt OK during, but the last mile, the back starting complaining again. I want to survive my 22 miler but the way my back is feeling, I don’t know. It would certainly be annoying to miss my key long run before the marathon. However, I don’t want to end up in a crumpled heap on the 101 calling my husband to come pick my ass up at mile 10.

2011 Operation Jack Half Marathon

Last weekend I completed my longest mileage week ever – 42 miles. Not even while training for the LA marathon in ‘03 did I run over 40 miles that I can remember. As one would expect, I am feeling it. Thursday evening I played Old Woman and tweaked my back picking up a loaded laundry basket. Yeah, who feels like they need to join AARP with her sciatica?

I managed to get through 11 easy miles on Friday and Saturday but I could always feel it there, nagging me (“Haaaayyy. It’s your baaacck, how’s it goin’? ”). So I wasn’t sure what to expect of my performance at OJ on Monday morning.

Christmas day I ate a ton of beef and buttery things (Husband used 1.5 pounds of butter in his baking escapades) and about three-quarters of a bottle of wine (that was reining myself in, by the way). Went to bed at 9pm but didn’t manage to actually fall asleep until 11:30pm. Four AM came very quickly (and apparently this is just when my bachelor brother-in-law in Hermosa Beach was going to sleep). We hit the road on-time at 5am. I had to make an emergency stop both for emergency coffee and also the other kind of emergency, if you know what I’m sayin’ (Sbucks has clean bathrooms, yo).

Meanwhile I get a tweet from Sarah and we both pull into the parking lot at 6:45am, and walked down to the start at El Porto Beach.

(I lived two blocks from here from 2001-2002. Aside from my apartment being a poorly maintained shithole, it had a small ocean view and you could not beat the location)

I got to meet Julie, a twitter pal, at the check in desk! And she also was doing the timing at the end. Volunteer extraordinaire!

Before the start, Sam and his wife, Tiffany, got up and said a few words about what we were running for – raising money and awareness of autism.

What stuck with me the whole race was one line Tiffany said – I’m paraphrasing here, “Run for the kids who have to live with autism every day.” I think we sometimes forget how they must feel trapped inside in own minds with this disease.

Then it was time to run! This race was capped at 300 entrants and it was gun-timed. So Sarah and I tried to squeeze our butts close to the start line. We took off right away - I had barely gotten my head phones on! Right from the get-go, Sarah pushed the pace ~8:05. And my legs seriously felt like lead.

You know when you’re running and you feel like the way you are landing must sound and look like a 300 pound gorilla? Just flopping your feet down in the most ungraceful manner? That’s how my legs felt the first six miles. My breathing was ok – but my legs. Man, they wanted nothing to do with this race. I did my best to hang on with Sarah, either next to her or just behind. It felt hard. Which, mentally, was tough because just two weeks ago at Santa to the Sea, 7:55 felt easy. I repeated to myself at least five times “Your legs will loosen up, just keep going. Don’t worry about the pace, you can pick it up later”

Mile 2.5 we saw Heather who cheered for us (incidentally, she was very quiet on the return at mile 11 – where was the obnoxious volunteering we saw at mile 2?!)

Mile 6 we ran into a headwind and saw a field small rocks all stacked precariously on top of each other along the side of the canal. Sarah decided Heather would think they were creepy. I agreed. Then just after mile 6, she high-fived Sam running in the opposite direction and took off. My legs were still unfreezing themselves so I just let her go.

Meanwhile, my husband found Santa Claus surfing at El Porto.

After the turn-around things started improving for me. I was landing less like Frankenstein and more like a normal runner. I had been routinely eating my clif shot bloks every odd  mile (I think this is my new strategy – it’s working) and drinking in the hopes I could salvage the race.

Hello 7:xx splits! Finally. Somewhere around mile 10 I caught up with Sarah. I wasn’t sure if I should try to drag her with me or if that would be annoying and obnoxious. Generally that shit doesn’t work with me, I have to decide to move out of my own volition, so I just said “You’ve got time banked” because she did. Even of the last miles were going to be painful, a PR was still possible.

Then my back decided that it was totally Over This Race. I hung on for another mile, and then we had a hill – nothing huge, but it was still a hill. Maybe like 20 feet or so. Killed my mile 12 split – 8:20. I just hung on for the last mile and change (the change was .23 – I apparently didn’t run good tangents or my Garmin was off).

Finish line action shots!

Final official time 1:46:38, 5th female overall (of 111).

Considering how this race felt the first six miles, I am happy with the outcome. It’s my second fastest non-Fontana half marathon time (this whole having to write “non-Fontana” s getting old). Had I not run stupid tangents, I would have been under 1:46.

Apples to apples (i.e. garmin to garmin) it’s only 8 seconds per miles slower than Santa to Sea. With two 20-milers in recent weeks and a PR half marathon, I think my body is a bit tired. This week is my highest mileage week – 44 miles. A 9 mile tempo this Thursday, and 22 miles next Monday. I am SO READY FOR CARLSBAD TAPER ALREADY.

Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! Off to make my coffee, do laundry, maybe hit a yoga class (eh, maybe), and then tile my shower (loving my company’s holiday vacation policy).

2011 Santa To The Sea Half Marathon

I didn’t have any plans to run this race – I was going to run the Holiday Classic again in Loma Linda, but then Schwaggle drew me in with a $38 entry fee. The only unfortunate part of this race for me is the fact that there is no race day pick up (without paying a $25 VIP fee). So we had to drive up the day before – it’s about a 3 hour drive without traffic which meant we had to spend the night. I managed to find a cheap hotel that wasn’t scary in Camarillo right next to the outlets (which we didn’t manage to avoid the next day but wallet damage was minimal).

Pick up was a cinch – the tech tee is cute and we got random good stuff in the goodie bag including a pack of shot bloks and gu chomps. After that we met a friend for dinner and managed to check out two local craft breweries in Ventura (beer=carbo-loading).

I woke up around 5am for an 8am start (yeah, kind of early but I don’t like rushing around). The race is point-to-point, and starts at this semi-historic 101 Landmark – a massive Santa Claus statue right off the freeway.

Thus the name “Santa to the Sea” because you literally run from the Santa to the ocean in Oxnard.

I had The Husband drop me off at the start rather than taking a shuttle. Which was good because it was FREEZING so at least I got to wait in the car for a while rather than in 40 degrees. He finally had to leave and I waited about an hour walking around aimlessly to keep from freezing – I even ran a bit as a warmup. They had the UPS bag check (awesome) so I held on to my sweatshirt until the last possible minute.

After sadly parting with my sweatshirt, I made my way to the chute. There were corral guidelines that everyone pretty much followed – no walkers in the sub 2:00 corrals that I could see. I found myself right in front of the 1:50 pacer and told him I had to stay ahead of him!

We took off and the 1:50 pacer passes me (already?!) but my watch showed 8:11 pace so, it was even a bit fast for 1:50. At some point in the first mile I passed him back. I don’t remember where.

This race is pretty much flat. According to Garmin there is 55 feet of climbing and 112 feet of downhill. There were only a couple hills I remember – one overpass and then another little guy. Most of the 57 feet of downhill comes in the second half. 

Mile 1: 7:58

Err, ok, at this point I figured it was just excitement. It would ease up.

Mile 2: 7:57

Again? I thought I was running slower.

Mile 3 & 4: 7:54, 7:53

At this point I felt great but I was really worried about these splits. These splits are fast. I don’t run 4 consecutive 7’s. Sure it was flat as a pancake, but still.  I ate my first blok here and continued to eat one shot blok every odd mile.

Mile 5 & 6: 8:03, 8:00

Finally! Seriously when I saw those “8” miles I felt a little relief that I had managed to ease up. Even though it was only 6 or 7 seconds slower. We had started running through neighborhoods and were approaching the Oxnard city center. The spectator support was awesome! I had a smile on my face most of this race. For such a small event, I was impressed.

Mile 7, 8, & 9: 7:58, 7:56, 7:57

Again, this had me concerned. Seven of the nine miles I had done were under 8:00. I have been known to start sagging at mile 10 after going out too fast. SO, yeah, I was worried. It was around this point I started noticing who I was running with and wondering if maybe I could catch some of them. Good mental distraction.

Mile 10: 7:51

Yeah, WTF. I do remember this mile feeling hard. I also remember leapfrogging with two women so maybe that made me push. We had pretty much made it to the coastal area and were making our way south to the finish at Embassy Suites Mandalay Bay. I told myself that I just had a 5K and keep the miles under 8:00!

Mile 11: 7:53

Hurting a bit here. We hit the beach path and I passed a guy I had chatted with at the start – we exchanged words of encouragement and I kept trucking. It was difficult to get out more than 3 or 4 words. I had one more female ahead that I thought I might be able to catch.

Mile 12: 7:55

At this point I knew I was going to smash my non-Fontana PR. But the question was how much energy would I have left to give in the final mile.

Mile 13: 7:49

The finish was kind of annoying – we had this narrow path to run down between orange cones and school buses. Only fit one person and I kind of got stuck behind this older guy. I decided to quickly swerve outside the cones to get around him. I could tell he wasn’t pleased but whatever. I had managed to pass the last chick earlier in this mile and this dude was not going to sabotage my effort.

Final .12: 47.7 (6:41 pace)

How I had any kick left, I don’t even know. The announcer read my name and actually pronounced my first name correctly! This resulted in a huge grin spreading across my face even though I was sprinting (dying). The little kick eeked me under the 1:44 mark with a finish of 1:43:56 - 7:56 pace.

Some bad finish line photos to laugh at:

That’s the dude that I had to swerve around. Sorry, man, these short legs were on a mission.

(Yeah,  I chopped my hair off last week – donating it to Pantene Beautiful Lengths)

This race was very well run. They had three aid stations with GU. There were plenty of water stops. Mile markers for all miles (most were accurate – except mile 12 which freaked me out – it was at 11.8 miles). Food at the finish was plentiful – coconut water, a jamba juice “apples & greens” drink I’d never seen before (but decided to drink because, hello, free?). Medal is cute and made in the USA (not China).

As for my effort – I am pleased. Sure it was an easy course but I can’t classify it as a Fontana-Easy. It is pretty much flat. 57 feet of downhill over 13.1 miles isn’t very much. So, I consider it a real PR. Yay!