Ahhh the quintessential training questions. Marathoners love to talk about their training, but there are a few questions we prefer you don’t ask. While we realize that many non-runners mean well, some questions should just be off-limits.
First, let’s talk about how I’ve now PR’d in the last two races (10k and 13.1) during one of the toughest, most chaotic years of my life. Wait; do not. Let’s save that for my 2018 end-of-year recap.
Instead, let’s discuss my most recent race: The Grin & Bear It half marathon, 10k, and 5k. Local company Miles of Smiles created, directed, and time the race. Goal: sub 2:15. Finish: 2:11:52. Crushed it!
But this was far from the easiest of races. Turns out that a flat course isn’t all that matters…
For months, I broadcasted a time goal that I knew I probably wasn’t entirely ready for: a sub two hour half marathon. Momentarily, part of me thought that I might be able to pull it off, but deep down, I didn’t think I was ready. My hope was riding on the race atmosphere, not my ability. I can run 5ks and 10ks at that pace and even faster, but the thought of running 13.1 miles at 9:00/mile made me kind of hate running. And because of that, I was discouraged through my training and didn’t feel the motivation and passion for running that I’ve always felt.
Last year at the Akron half marathon, I remember starting out in Corral C with the 11:00/mile pacer. I passed him. Then I passed 10:41. Then I passed 10:33. I finished it below 10:30/mile, and I was so shocked and surprised.
This year, I stuck myself in between the 8:58/mile pacer and the 9:10/mile pacer. I bet you can see where this is going: I started too fast, and that was the end. Then the 9:33 pacer passed me. Then the 10:41 pacer passed me. I ran so fast at the start that it was impossible for me to keep up. At one point, I ran a 12:06 mile. 12:06! Talk about discouragement. I shot myself in the foot by trying to force myself to hit a time that I wasn’t ready for, despite how many times I told myself I wasn’t going to do that.
So I settled in. I was texting a friend of mine and he finally said “Just put your phone away and go.” That was the first time I ever had my phone out on a half marathon course, but I completely fell apart and didn’t know what to do. I even told him I was dropping out, and he said I wasn’t going to do that – so I kept on going and tried to enjoy the course.
And I did. Once I took the pressure off of myself and stopped crying at hydration stops, I picked up my pace and kept on running. I high-fived the signs that kids were holding that said, “TAP FOR EXTRA POWER.” I actually ran up the hill that takes up nearly all of mile 10 (it’s criminal, isn’t it?), and I was enjoying myself and my run.
Suddenly, I felt like I loved running again. I looked ahead and thought, there it is – I was wondering where that feeling went! So I coasted along, at a slower pace than I imagined, and got my medal at the end. Although…I refused to let MarathonFoto snap my picture afterwards because I was sobbing too much! I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also disappointed that I didn’t reach my time, but it wasn’t nearly as discouraging as I thought it would be.
The finish line was about a mile away from my hotel. I started walking to my hotel, and at about .5 miles in, I realized that I casually walked away from a half marathon for the first time. When I ran Akron last year, there was no leisurely walking because I tore my hamstring. My husband and I had to walk up hill to our car, and I stood at the bottom, in tears, wondering how the hell I was going to get up there. I was out for four months and in physical therapy.
In Pittsburgh, I almost had a DNF next to my name. In mile one, I felt the lovely onset of ITBS for the first time. I limped to the end of the race and couldn’t leave the medical tent. When I did leave, I still wasn’t able to bend my left leg. Soon after, the same thing happened to my right leg.
In other words…for the first time, I walked away from a distance race and felt like if I had to keep on running, I would have been able to. I felt tired from not sleeping so great the night before, but I didn’t feel hurt or absolutely dead. I realized that even though I didn’t meet the time I planned, I am definitely getting stronger.
Something else I noticed at the end of this race is that I couldn’t wait to go running again. After the first two half marathons, I knew I’d be back out there again – but I felt pretty off. I am sure some of it was the injuries, but there were definitely some other reasons that I didn’t quite understand.
This year, I can’t wait for my 10k in October and for my next distance race. I feel like I’m forcing myself not to go out and run today! For my 10k, I’m not setting a time goal. I’m just going to train like I know how to train and go for it. Setting crazy time goals puts me in a mental place that I don’t like.
What I want you to understand, then, is that there are so many victories we forget about. There are so many more reasons to celebrate than time goals. I don’t want to discount time goals at all; meeting a time goal is a huge accomplishment that should be celebrated. But sometimes, we try our best and it doesn’t work out. In that case, don’t forget the other gems of victory. In this year’s Akron half marathon, I’m celebrating walking away from a race injury free, running almost 30 minutes faster than I did on May 1, and rekindling my love for the sport I plan to partake in as long as I can.
Happy running, and happy celebrating – no matter what!
I planned to write some motivational entry to help you make it through your taper. My plans, as you’ve seen on my Instagram account, were to talk about how my daughter has inspired me so far through the taper for my half marathon in less than a week.
That was until I went to the Liberty Mile today and stood next to a very seasoned, very wise runner and was given the chance to briefly converse with him. What he said is something that will stick with me not just through my next race, but likely forever. Read more
We often hear distance runners talk about “the wall.” You know – the proverbial bricks that keep you from your goals, usually toward the end of a marathon. Honestly, I’ve only heard people talk about “the wall” in marathon running: “We all hit ‘the wall’ in mile 20; it’s not avoidable.”
When I started training for half marathon #3 some months ago, I set a time goal: sub 2 hours. My half marathon PR is 2:15:38, and that was my very first half that took place at the end of September 2015. I’m running that same race again, the Akron half marathon, on September 24. I know the course; I know what to expect. The only difference is that I am trying to run about sixteen minutes quicker than I ran last year.
I knew my previous training regimen wouldn’t cut it this time around. I’d used Jeff Galloway’s “to finish” plans, and my goal for this race is beyond finishing it. Note: I’m not indicating that finishing a race isn’t an accomplishment; I’m indicating that I wanted to challenge myself more.
I settled on Hanson’s Half Marathon Method. In this book, the authors talk about hitting “the wall” in a half marathon. I shrugged it off because I sincerely believed that it only happened to marathon runners. I was wrong. While I strayed from following Hanson’s plan to a tee, I did create my own plan that was intense and required several more miles each week than I’ve ever run.
Last night, I had a four mile run. My husband was in Cleveland for the night for school, so I knew I’d be on the treadmill after my two year old went to bed. All day, I was rolling my eyes because I didn’t want to run on the treadmill, but I didn’t have a choice. So, I hopped on the treadmill.
Within minutes, my legs were so fatigued that I felt like I couldn’t go anymore. Moreover, I was in total mental anguish. I felt defeated. I felt panicked. I felt like I was going to have a full-blown mental meltdown, and that’s pretty much what happened.
At 1.5 miles, I pulled the treadmill key out and threw it. I sat down on the belt and cried, cried, cried. I told myself to shut the f*ck up and get back on the treadmill because it was a four mile run, not a 24 mile run. And I did, but I ended at 5k (3.1 miles). I physically and mentally couldn’t finish a lame, four mile easy run. What the hell? I thought to myself.
Most of you probably saw my Instagram post last night where I summarized how I felt. The outpouring of comments and positive vibes was amazing…you guys are awesome and I love being part of the running community on IG. What struck me, though; what made me have an “oh, so THAT’S what it is” moment, is when a few of you commented that you, too, had hit “the wall” at some point. Even though I felt like I wanted to crawl into a hole, I also felt like I’d made it through some strange running-right-of-passage.
I’m sure people debate whether or not “the wall” is mental, physical, and can happen in such a short period of time. Some say it’s all about glycogen depletion; others say it’s failure to train at an appropriate level of ability; still, others say that it’s more mental than physical. My take: This has to be one of those things that is different for everyone.
It seems like “hitting the wall” comes from exerting yourself, over and over, and reaching a breaking point. Everyone reaches a breaking point differently. For some, maybe that doesn’t happen until mile 20 of a fast-paced marathon. For others, like me, I totally believe it can happen at the end of an extremely intense training cycle (especially if you’re not used to this type of training). Whatever it takes, trust me – you’ll know when you hit your wall.
Consider it the branding of someone who continually works to be better, to be faster, to be stronger. If improving was easy, all of us would be at the Olympic trials. It isn’t easy, though – far from it. Sometimes you can push through it and sometimes you can’t, but what’s important is that you don’t let a run or two or three define you.
What is your experience with “hitting the wall?”