Race Report: Frostbite Series Race #4, Half-Marathon
January 28, 2006, Forest Park, St. Louis, Missouri
Weather-wise, this one had the potential to get ugly. Heavy rain was forecast, but a few minutes before the race the light rain stopped. With the temperature in the high 40s, these were good running conditions. The raindrop reprieve was short-lived, as it started coming down again as we set off to cover 13.1 miles.
I ran even splits for the first four miles, sticking with a small pack that had set a pace that I was up for trying to hold, although admittedly it was a little faster than my PR half-marathon pace. It's even caught on film (upper right photo, in dark blue shirt).
The cone with mile-marker #4 on it was, unfortunately, set right at a cross street, leading runners to turn before they were supposed to. The chain reaction trickled through the field and we all cut the course unknowingly, perhaps by 1/8 of a mile. Once we hit the parking lot with a cone in the distance, something seemed wrong. That's when I spotted the cone with the arrow at the following intersection. Oh well. We joked about it and as I turned to look over my shoulder, Todd yells out, "I'm following you Jan!" I yelled back "Cheater!", all in good fun. On the second loop the guilt was too much and I was sure to stick to the course, which was now better understood. Perhaps as punishment for mistakenly cutting the course, the skies opened up and a cold headwind plastered my drenched dri-fit shirt to my chest. "This might be a long day," I huffed to myself.
At about mile 7, I passed the hacker, who was groaning away as usual. I was holding a good pace and eager to get out of range. The rain had lightened up again. I was now running with three guys: "Shades" (expecting sun?), "Headband", and Todd. We stuck together until about mile 9. These guys really pushed me to hang with them. Very motivating.
At mile 9, the wheels almost fell off completely. I was having a great race up to that point, but my stomach was suddenly not in the mood to cooperate. I had no choice but to back off as the three other guys pulled away along the straightaway. The hacker's wheezing was getting louder from behind. I tried to focus, knowing there was a bathroom up ahead if I got desperate and had to bail. The unspoken truth of endurance sports is that "accidents" happen, and you have to be ready to "handle" them. When I turned the corner past the bathroom, I started to feel better and had a downhill stretch to get it together. Perfect. By mile 10, I was feeling better and Sam, who had run the 4-mile race (5th place!), jumped from across the road and got a half-step in front of my shoulder and found the pace that he thought I could hold. I took a gel and soon, with Sam's pep talk and encouragement, was gaining confidence.
I was able to catch and pass "Shades" and then "Headband" as I put the hammer down and came into the finish with a new unofficial PR.
I decided to give myself the PR, since even when I added a minute to my finish time, I still had a PR for the half-marathon. YES!
After being on the brink of quitting with a bad stomach before cruising to a PR on a soggy January Saturday, I was reminded of a poem I used to keep in my soccer locker at Duke University:
Weather-wise, this one had the potential to get ugly. Heavy rain was forecast, but a few minutes before the race the light rain stopped. With the temperature in the high 40s, these were good running conditions. The raindrop reprieve was short-lived, as it started coming down again as we set off to cover 13.1 miles.
I ran even splits for the first four miles, sticking with a small pack that had set a pace that I was up for trying to hold, although admittedly it was a little faster than my PR half-marathon pace. It's even caught on film (upper right photo, in dark blue shirt).
The cone with mile-marker #4 on it was, unfortunately, set right at a cross street, leading runners to turn before they were supposed to. The chain reaction trickled through the field and we all cut the course unknowingly, perhaps by 1/8 of a mile. Once we hit the parking lot with a cone in the distance, something seemed wrong. That's when I spotted the cone with the arrow at the following intersection. Oh well. We joked about it and as I turned to look over my shoulder, Todd yells out, "I'm following you Jan!" I yelled back "Cheater!", all in good fun. On the second loop the guilt was too much and I was sure to stick to the course, which was now better understood. Perhaps as punishment for mistakenly cutting the course, the skies opened up and a cold headwind plastered my drenched dri-fit shirt to my chest. "This might be a long day," I huffed to myself.
At about mile 7, I passed the hacker, who was groaning away as usual. I was holding a good pace and eager to get out of range. The rain had lightened up again. I was now running with three guys: "Shades" (expecting sun?), "Headband", and Todd. We stuck together until about mile 9. These guys really pushed me to hang with them. Very motivating.
At mile 9, the wheels almost fell off completely. I was having a great race up to that point, but my stomach was suddenly not in the mood to cooperate. I had no choice but to back off as the three other guys pulled away along the straightaway. The hacker's wheezing was getting louder from behind. I tried to focus, knowing there was a bathroom up ahead if I got desperate and had to bail. The unspoken truth of endurance sports is that "accidents" happen, and you have to be ready to "handle" them. When I turned the corner past the bathroom, I started to feel better and had a downhill stretch to get it together. Perfect. By mile 10, I was feeling better and Sam, who had run the 4-mile race (5th place!), jumped from across the road and got a half-step in front of my shoulder and found the pace that he thought I could hold. I took a gel and soon, with Sam's pep talk and encouragement, was gaining confidence.
I was able to catch and pass "Shades" and then "Headband" as I put the hammer down and came into the finish with a new unofficial PR.
I decided to give myself the PR, since even when I added a minute to my finish time, I still had a PR for the half-marathon. YES!
After being on the brink of quitting with a bad stomach before cruising to a PR on a soggy January Saturday, I was reminded of a poem I used to keep in my soccer locker at Duke University:
- DON'T QUIT
When things go wrong,
As they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And when you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow-
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out-
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.
Printed by Daughters of St. Paul, Boston, Ma. 02130
posted by JPD at Tuesday, January 31, 2006
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