This past summer I ran the SLC Half Marathon with my SILs in April (already posted about that one), then I continued on through the summer to train with two of my very best friends who have become very dear to me and I am so glad we have been able to spend so much time together. They are both incredible runners and I owe my newfound love of speed training all to Alisa! We have run together until we hurt so bad we (maybe just I?) wanted to cry, been injured together, shared our joys and sorrows together, and even frozen our behinds off together on 6 am runs in the middle of Jan in the pitch black freezing cold hours where we needed a headlamp to guide our way. These ladies have become my sisters.
Our first race that we finally managed to run all together! In the past we had trained together quite a bit but always managed to sign up for different races. We signed up for this 2011 Provo Freedom Festival 10K on the 4th of July as part of our training for...
The Top of Utah Half Marathon 2011! (Ok I HAVE to say that there was a little girl cooling off runners from her front lawn with her garden hose on the last mile of the race, so my wet shirt is not all sweat! I was soaked from her hose and it hadn't dried yet, promise!)
Buckle up, there's a story behind this race:
You may remember that I ran this one last year (2010) by myself and it was the first time I had ever set a time goal in a race because I was finally to the point where I felt that I could train for speed, but then I injured my knee 2 weeks before the race on my 14 mile run and ended up limping through the end of the race and getting almost my worst time ever. Well, since training with Alisa and Kerstin was going so great and it was the right time of year and my knee seemed to be fully recovered, I convinced them to sign up to do it with me and I once again set myself a goal of 2 hours for the Top of Utah Half. I was so scared of this race because it kicked me so hard last year, but instead of turning tail and running I decided to stare it in the face and try to conquer it.
Race day came and my training wasn't where I wanted it to be as far as speed, even though my knee was great. I had done my intervals every week and while my speed definitely had improved, when I ran my long runs on Saturdays I just couldn't get to where I needed to be on speed when coupled with distance. So, I just decided I would go have fun with friends and run a good race and just keep my body healthy and not worry too much about time.
The race begins and it's perfect deja vu: gentle rolling downhill out of the beautiful canyon, perfect (even heavenly) weather, well run race and aid stations, etc. I even remember one moment while whisking down the canyon road, flanked by fellow runners, when Katy Perry's "Firework" song came on and I lost it. I mean full on tears of pure, blissful adrenaline. I know that sounds absolutely insane given it's KATY PERRY, but google the lyrics. Go on, do it. You'll understand. Or maybe you won't...
There's something about a race that makes your emotions so raw. Maybe it's because it's one of those rare moments in life where you have worked so hard for something for so long and put so much of your precious time and effort into it and you actually have one tangible moment in time where it's almost as if time freezes and you think to yourself, "This is it. This is everything I have been working so hard for. Within the next few moments of my life I will know, for better or worse, the fruits of all of my labors over the past few months...of everything that I have sweated and cried for and wanted so badly." It all sounds so dramatic on the screen but that is how it plays out in my mind every time I run a race. Every time. And I have heard and read plenty of people's words making fun of people like me for describing scenarios like I just have and saying how melodramatic it can all be, but I think you say that until you experience it and then you really believe it, but then again maybe it's just me :)
So we get out of the canyon and I am feeling good. Knee=great. Pace=respectable. I'm not really paying much attention cause I am truly just ENJOYING this race and so happy. I get to about mile 8 and start to add up in my mind how fast I would need to run to finish in 2 hours and I think, "Hey, if I can pick it up a little I could actually do this thing." But I am very aware that this is exactly where I started struggling and my knee started paining last year, besides the fact that 8 miles and 13.1 miles are very different, so I kind of put it out of my mind. Along comes 9 miles and I check my watch again and think wow, I can still do this thing. Again, put out of mind and keep trudging along. Mile 10 comes and this is where it starts to get hard. But still, I can't get over the nagging feeling that if I can keep up this pace and then some I could really hit this goal. I am really bookin' it at this point and it's hard but I just think I'm doing ok and if there was ever a time that I was going to hit this goal it was going to be now, and after all, I haven't hit this goal ever before for a reason: it's not easy and it's going to be hard no matter when I do it! So I set it in my mind that I am going to do this, figure out the pace I need, and start to push. Then comes the last 2 miles.
Again the imagery of everything turning to slow motion comes to mind. Those last 2 miles felt like the world was stuck in the mud, spinning ever so slowly around me. Then I get to the very last mile, my friend, Mister 12.1 and I think, "I have to stop and walk. This is it. I have pushed too hard. I can't do this." The last mile of this race, which I feel like I know so personally from walking it while flooded with pain last year, is on one very long and straight street that seems to not be an incline, but it's definitely not a decline, but it doesn't seem very flat either. It just is in a league all it's own. I have run this street when I was in so much pain I cried like a child and wanted my mom to come hold me. Yet today I am on a whole new plane. Painful still, but in such a different and interesting way. Over the period of that last mile, which I think I needed to run in something like 7-8 min but can't remember for sure, my mind jostled back and forth continuously between thoughts of, "I can't do this! It's over! I'm stopping and walking now cause it hurts too bad!" to, "You are less than a mile away from a goal you have wanted for over a year now! Push! Only 8 more minutes! You can do ANYTHING for 8 minutes!" It's funny the conversations you have with yourself sometimes. It makes me think there's something to those cartoons with the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.
I can't begin to describe how badly I was hurting when I came into view of that "Finish" banner up ahead, but I knew I had to run hard to do it. I kid you not, about every 5 seconds of that last minute before I crossed that finish line, the devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear to stop and walk, and I almost did. Every time. But then the angel came back and I pushed hard. Then I almost walked, then I pushed harder. It was this sort of back and forth tennis match of thoughts. I don't ever remember feeling when I have run before the sort of physical exhaustion that I felt during that last minute. I do remember looking down at my watch and seeing 30 seconds left before the 2 hour mark and looking up and deciding I will make this goal or break my leg trying, but either way I am going all out. I set off in the hardest sprint and caught the time in the corner of my eye...20 seconds left...15 seconds...10 seconds...the finish banner was SO close. I didn't look down again at my watch for those last 10 seconds as I gave it all I had left in me. My foot hit that finish pad, my finger hit the STOP on my Garmin, and this is what I saw...
Two hours.
Two hours and two seconds.
(I didn't know whether to cry or laugh hysterically over those 2 measly seconds!)
But still, two hours!
Now, I had envisioned this moment many times in the year that I had had this goal for myself, and there were many different scenarios of what I would do and feel when I finally accomplished it, but most of them involved a whole lot of crying. Blissful crying. If you know anything about me, you know that I'm a crybaby. I have cried, mostly for joy, after every race I have ever run. So you can imagine my genuine shock when I realized I wasn't crying. I wasn't laughing either. I was past any of those reactions. I simply was too exhausted to have emotion. For the MOST emotional girl in the world, this is utterly hilarious to me! Oh, how it makes me laugh now! In any case, I did it. I mean, tack on a couple silly seconds, but I did it :)
And tears or not, all I can say is it felt really good. It always does after it feels really bad, right?
And now I'm doing a marathon in June. What's wrong with me??
We celebrated that night by taking Will to an Orem Owlz baseball game, after Ryan let me come home and take an ice bath and sleep all day of course! What a fabulous husband and a wonderful day! I took Will over, towards the end of the game, to roll around on the grassy knoll with all the other kids and watched him laugh hysterically in the cool summer evening. Then we went back and sat by Ry and I enjoyed such a fun and relaxing night with my family. Seriously I remember driving home from the game with Will asleep in the backseat and grabbing Ryan's hand and saying, "This has seriously been one of the best days ever."
Last 8 minutes included.
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