Pig Simulation Run

First of all CONGRATS to MEB!!!!! And to Rita Jeptoo... course record! Amazing! And congrats to everyone else running today. I've been glued to my computer all morning! So proud and happy to have one of the Bitches out there running Boston for the first time (which means, I'm the only bitch who hasn't made it to Boston).

On Friday, I decided to do a Pig Simulation run. A couple of months ago, I was looking at the course elevation map and trying to figure out what I could to do to try and mimic the epic hill in the beginning of the race.

Id

Fun times.

For shits and giggles I decided to try and compare that hill to a hill at Percy Warner Park. So, I looked at the Monkey Marathon.

Ridonkulous.

But, if you'll notice... the hill at mile 18ish at the Monkey is fairly similiar in elevation and distance. And, I know that hill. It's the backside of 9 mile hill in PWP. I decided that it would be about perfect to go to the Park... run the boulevard first (about 6 miles) and then start to chug up the hill. I figured it would be a good workout  and simulation for race day. I would practice my form and maybe more importantly... practice not checking out mentally as soon as I get to that monster.

Friday morning was the perfect day. I was skipping work that day (I worked on April 16th even though our office was closed, so I decided to take Friday off instead. Boom). But, when the morning came... I was trying to chicken out. Luckily, I was somehow motivated to drive myself to the park, so once I was there... I was like.. okay, let's get this shit done. 

I hadn't really thought too much about my strategy, except that I wanted to try and keep around an 8:30 pace. That was a mistake. I hopped out of the car, started my watch and I was off. OFF LIKE A BAT OUT OF HELL.

 Or ya know... like a squirrel in a plane.

By the time I finished the boulevard and started up the hill.... it occurred to me... HEY DUMB ASS. MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE EASED INTO THE PACE, so you'd still have some gas left in the tank.

It's amazing to me, that after years of running

and years of being coached I can still

be such a fucking idiot sometimes.

Needless to say the hill felt like DEATH. There is no telling what pace I slowed down to while chugging up the damn thing, but I tried to capitalize like hell on the downhill.

Reenactment.

At the end, I collapsed in a heap and of course.. I also forgot to bring water with me. Amateur. I ended up with about an 8:40 pace for the entire thing and I think it's a great exercise/workout for the Pig, but I think it would probably be better to run it around 9:00 pace the whole way, instead of trying to kill myself. 

This is how it mapped out.

I'm hoping to do this run one more time before the race at a much easier pace. I also think it would have been VERY beneficial to do this run as the first part of a long run. (For instance, do this and then run out to Radnor Lake and back, which is about 9 miles). If ever do the Pig again... I will definitely incorporate that route into my training.

Week Two... in progress.

Well, I'm half-way through week two of marathon training and I've already pulled a diva move of telling my coach that I was happy with one approach to my training and then 12 hours later freaking out and telling her that I wanted something else.

I blame my initial acquiescence to a plan of more quality over quantity on a holy basil high. It's a good idea to change things up... to try something else... but, I'm a mileage whore at my core and knowing that I have to hike/run/crawl the Grand Canyon 2 weeks after my marathon... well, let's just say I'm using that as an excuse to run ALL THE MILES. Hooray.

In other ways that I'm a shitty person to coach... I did my workouts back-to-back this week. Well. Kind of. I mean, ON PAPER, they were back to back. I ran a tempo run on Tuesday and I did my hill workout on Wednesday. But, it wasn't 24 hours between the two.... it was 36. So... that's better, right?

 

I offer the following explanation: I had The KoB to run the workouts with me. Who can say no to that???

The tempo run I did Tuesday morning just as the fucking polar vortex part deux was rolling into town and I managed to nail a 4 mile tempo. Half of each mile was way slow because I was running into the wind, but the second half felt like I was flying. So, at least I recognized the tail wind for once. 

Surprisingly, in my 6 weeks of slothdom since Baton Rouge, I don't feel like I've lost that much fitness. I just jinxed the shit out of myself, didn't I? I mean, sure, 4 miles was the max I wanted to run for a tempo, but I'd say it was the best I've felt starting out on a training cycle. So, yay! I guess?

I did hills on Wednesday night. The KoB and I did our regular 6 mile loop (which is hillier than I like already) and pushed the pace on most of the run and then after about 4-5 miles we added 5 hill repeats in. My goal was not to start out like a bat out of hell and have some effort left for the last repeat and I think I accomplished that. After the first one, on the jog back down, the KoB asked: "where did it hurt?" And I dumbly said... "oh, about there." pointing at a driveway we crossed near the top of the hill. NO DUMBASS, he meant, where in my body did it hurt? I told him it hurt in my legs. And he said good. When sensai asks you a question and he responds "good" to your answer. YOU ARE ON THE RIGHT PATH, my friend. Anyway, they felt hard, but a good hard. Ya know what I mean?

And finally, in other ways I've effed up this week: In an effort to save money and not spend $128 on a pair of pants that I am DYING for:

WHO SPENDS THAT MUCH MONEY ON PANTS?????

But damn. They are totally perfect, right? 

Anyway, see that seam like 5 inches ABOVE the model's knee. 

That's the whole point of the pants. They are moto pants.

I found an alternative at Zara for $30 bucks. SCORE! (I can't find a picture, they must be sold out online). Except, I got them home and tried them on and the part that MAKES them motorcycle pants (the seam details around the knees) was practically at my ankles. Short legs for the Fail, again.

Le sigh.

I did learn something else besides the fact that I was indeed a pygmy in a former life from this fashion fail:
Why so many bloggers/instagrammers/etc take photos of their feet while standing:

Because, OMG your legs look skinny and

OMG THIGH GAP!

Gag.

(Little photobomb nose in the right hand bottom corner.

the REAL reason I included this photo).

Race Report: Team Nashville 10 Miler

The KoB: I wonder how many alpacas would fit in that field?

Me: Is this fucking race over yet?

The Team Nashville 10 Miler is one of my favorite races. The race course is on country roads that wind around houses that I visited as a kid for sleepovers and birthday parties. It's nostalgic and it's beautiful. It's also pretty tough.

Hello hills.

Last year I ran the race and my goal was to run a sub 1:25. And I did that. Barely. 1:24:37.

This year my goal was to run it sub 1:20. Should I be able to run a sub 1:20 10 mile race a month out from my marathon? Um. YES. I definitely should be able to. But, as you can see... the course is a bit of a grind, so I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to do it. Plus, training through, blah blah blah. 

I did have a secret weapon as you see above. The KoB offered to pace me for the race. 

The first few miles felt TOUGH. I wasn't comfortable and I kept kinda thinking about the big hill in the middle and the hill right before the finish. I hadn't really noticed that the first 5 miles are a gradual uphill until around mile 4 and The KoB mentioned it.

Miles 1-4: 8:14, 7:52, 8:03, 8:02, 8:04

Last year I ran the hill at mile 5 in 9:16. 9:16!!!!!! How ridiculous is that??? This year I ran it in 8:09!

The miles after that hill, I felt really good. I started clicking along and the downhills boosted my confidence.

Miles 7-9: 7:38, 7:41, 7:45

 I always look like death in these photos.

Meanwhile other bitches just seconds behind me 

look like they should be in an Adidas ad or something.

Look at that focus and those legs! Ugh. Cute bitch.

It was around mile 8-10 that The KoB and I were kind of neck-and-neck with a couple of other girls. He kept urging me to pass them. I kept trying. But, I wasn't hiding a pack of jet fuel in my back pocket. I was operating at full capacity and as much as I REALLY wanted to pass those bitches, I just couldn't. (My desire to pass one of them was really ignited when she told me that I was doing well as she zoomed past me BARELY BREATHING HARD. Ugh).

Hills, dying, etc.

I felt like I was running that last hill at 13 minute pace. It was terrible. But as soon as we crested the hill and I knew I had less than a mile to go, I tried to pick it up. My legs were burning, but I ran that last mile with the hill in 7:56.

I crossed the finish line in 1:19:27! I met my goal and PRed by 5 minutes!

It was a good day. I felt really good for the last half of the race and I was thrilled with my time. Just the confidence booster I need going into these last few weeks of marathon training!

Week 10

Without ambition one starts nothing. Without work one finishes nothing. The prize will not be sent to you. You have to win it.                        Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Last week, after I spent about 45 minutes regaling every detail of my 10 mile race success to The KoB, he offered up one piece of advice (and when The KoB offers up unsolicited advice, my friends... YOU TAKE IT): Careful not to run your easy runs too hard/fast this week.

And yeah, totally makes sense. It happens to us all the time. We have a good race and we get a little too big for our britches and we bust it out on our easy runs. But, DUH. Easy runs are supposed to be easy. EASY. (And by us/we, I mean I/me). It was great advice and after my first two runs in the week, I realized... FUCK. I'm doing exactly what The KoB told me not to do. And then I was tsked tsked by Coach who warned me that my workout later in the week was going to feel REALLY bad if I didn't take it easier.

She was right. Oops.

Recap:
Workout: 5x2:00 Hill Repeats
Long: 15 miles.
Total: 55-60 miles total.

I was happy to see hills on the schedule, because, I am totally sucking it on hills lately. I mean, it's a workout that I REALLY hate. But, it's something that I REALLY need. I just have no fitness or confidence on the hills. So, while these repeats SUCKED and they were super, duper slow. It's good to get them done and I know that in a few weeks/months I'll start seeing some progress. Do y'all do hill repeats?

My long run was a Saturday morning tour of Nashville:

How that was only 15.63 miles, I'll never understand.

I slept in a bit, had some breakfast (still experimenting), and headed out. It was one of those runs that just WAS. It wasn't great, it wasn't terrible. It just was. I don't know why, but I was really nervous about getting this run done. I was afraid that I'd talk myself out of doing the full 15, or that I'd be bored as fuck and get lazy and start walking. But, none of that happened. 

On Sunday, I had to run a few easy miles to get my mileage for the week and so I headed over to Percy Warner Park for the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon. I ended up running 5ish miles, a few of those with my friends Liz and Melanie and then spent the rest of the time spectating friends and The KoB. That deserves it's own post, so that's all I'll say about that for now.

Another week down.

Week 8 Review

There are times when a feeling of expectancy comes to me, as if something is there, beneath the surface of my understanding, waiting for me to grasp it.
                                                                                      Sylvia Plath

Holy moly. I've been training for 2 months? It does not feel like that at all.

Another good week for me and another boring recap for you. Woo!

The meat of the week:
The fast: 5 miles at 8:40ish pace
Bonus workout: Hill repeats, 4x2:00 minutes.
Total: 50-55.

For my tempo run, The KoB met me and it was a good thing, because I was not feeling it, at all.

Exactly, Ron.

I kept thinking that if we warmed up a little more, that I'd start to feel better. But, after 2.5 miles or so, The KoB  had to kick my ass into gear nudge me to get started. And you know what... the tempo miles didn't really feel much worse than the warm up miles. I mean, they were hard, of course, but sometimes running sucks no matter what the pace and that day was one of those days. Once we got rolling, I completed the miles pretty easily. But was super happy to have the KoB there. Otherwise, I would have totally bailed on the workout FOR NO GOOD REASON.

The hill repeats. Okay, so apparently to everyone else this sounds like a pansy workout. But, y'all... I haven't done hill repeats consistently... in like.. YEARS. I was struggling my ass off. Blarg. They were hard, but I got them done. And am looking forward (kinda) to gauging my progress on the same death hill in the future.

I don't really feel like I had a long run this week. I ran 11 miles on Sunday, and that was my longest run of the week, but I dunno... it doesn't seem all that long. Anyway. Against all odds the run was AMAZING. I had planned on getting up early on Sunday morning and getting them done, but I couldn't drag myself out of bed. I was exhausted, so I slept in and then dragged my ass out of bed for a big breakfast (priorities). 2 hours later I went out for my long run at 12:30. I assumed that it was going to be awful, that my heavy breakfast was going to jostle about and make me sluggish. But, uhhhh... you know what? It was actually AWESOME. I couldn't slow myself down. It was like the perfect mix of coffee and homefries or something. I dunno. I ended up with like 54 miles for the week. (Full disclosure: that's with running everyday, so... pretty lame).

Another good week in the books. I feel like I'm over the hump and coasting a bit now. I have a feeling that shit's about to get real, though. It's about time to stock up at the liquor store, methinks.

Part 4: "I'm not a runner, I'm a pacer! Don't clap for me!"

I took off and tried to run as fast as I possibly could to the finish-line (which turned out to be around 10:00 miles. haha). And... it was kinda uncomfortable. Because as I passed a couple of racers, I had to be like... "don't mind me... I'm a pacer. But you're doing a great job! You're almost there!!" And they would let out a sigh of relief that they didn't just get schooled by some chick at the end of a 50 mile race.

After running for what seemed like 10 miles, I finally got close to the finish. And... there was one problem... I didn't really know exactly where the finish was. I mean, there were lots of people around and people cheering, but I couldn't really figure out how to get OFF the course. As I got closer and closer, the crowd started cheering for me and at first I tried to yell out... "I'm just a pacer, I'm just a pacer!!" and then finally I just gave up trying to clarify and took the applause. Eventually I realized I was REALLY close to the finish line so I hopped off the course and then everyone was like.. NO NO NO, the finish line is over there. And I had to yell and explain. I'm just an effing pacer!

I walked over to the finish line and got the camera out and ready. It took me a minute to figure out how to turn it on, but thank god I figured it out just in time, cause Vandy Montana was RIGHT BEHIND ME.

I recorded him finishing, attempted a little post-race interview with him and got him a coke and went to his car to get our flip flops, etc. He made a phone call while I was gone and basked in the glory of finishing a 50 mile race.

He was so mellow and cool, that I tried to be, too. But it was hard for me to contain my excitement for him. He had just ran a 50 mile race and not just any race, but a freaking HARD one. With the way he was reacting you'd think he just finished an 18 mile training run or something. I mean, it was ridiculous. I wanted to jump up and down and scream and shout and he was just totally chill. No tears, no nothing.

I was really proud of him and really freaking glad that I didn't have to run the whole thing. I would have died. Seriously. It was clear to me, after seeing him for those last 17 miles that this is his forte. He has the mental stamina and the physical ability to power through pain. Whether he likes it or not... he was made to be an ultra runner.

Looking back now, it was an awesome experience for me. Sure, I didn't get to be Awesome Savior-Pacer, and I had to climb up a freaking mountain, and I'm pretty sure I'll have melanoma in about 10 years from the severe sunburn I got, but, I did really enjoy working at the aid station and most importantly, I loved that I got to share the awesome and inspiring experience of being a small part of one of your best friend's biggest accomplishments.

Congrats Vandy Montana!!!!!!

Part 3: I almost threw him off the mountain in a fit of ridiculous bitchiness.

As we rolled into the Aid Station #9, Vandy Montana immediately ordered me to "get him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." And he immediately went over and sat down in a chair. I looked around and the first table we came to had bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Ummm... you have to make your own? I looked around the table and saw no pre-made sandwiches. Hmph. I thought to myself, at my aid station we had them all already made and covered up so they wouldnt get stale. I shrugged it off and proceeded to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As I was just pressing the two pieces of bread together, an aid station worker came over to me and said, "the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are on that other table." I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw that just ahead to the right, there was indeed a table that had a stack of pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I glared at her, thinking.. why the hell would they put THAT table ahead of this table???? Told her thanks and took the sandwich over to Vandy Montana.

Simultaneously, the guy from the previous aid station that was impressed by Vandy Montana's personal attention was just rolling in and had a seat next to Vandy Montana. "Ahhh..." he said... "still taking care of him, I see." And then Vandy Montana immediately responded... "Yeah, put your order in to the waitress."

WHATTHEHELL??? At that moment, my first reaction was to take that peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I had just MADE for him after I had just climbed a friggin' mountain for him and shove it into his mouth and try to suffocate him with it. I mean, are you kidding me? Don't mess with a tired, thirsty bitch. There's a long way down that mountain, hoss.

I was just opening my mouth to let him have it, when I stopped myself and turned away. I looked at the mountains and tried to Zen it out. He's delirious or he knows that he's in a position where I'm there for him and not complain about anything and he's taking total advantage of that fact by throwing in cheap shots whenever he can. He's been out here for 40 miles and he's just climbed that friggin mountain, too. And I let it go. (But obviously, I didn't forget it. haha).

In hindsight, I realize he was joking. And under normal circumstances I wouldn't have cared, and would have had the oxygen to come up some kinda zinger about a tip or something. But under the present circumstances, it touched a nerve.

After filling up his water bottle and getting him some chips that I didn't realize were salt and vinegar till he cried out at how nasty they were once he ate them, I started comtemplating my own existence. My water bottles were bone dry. All of them. And it was another 4-5 miles to the next aid station. But, the location of this aid station made it difficult to get supplies and water to. They were actually getting the water for the aid station from a freaking creek. So, instead of taking care of myself and filling at least one of my bottles up with water, I decided to leave the water for the runners and continue on with empty bottles.

It was a decision I would regret.

Just as I was getting ready to start nicely nudging Vandy Montana out of his comfy seat and back on the trail (which I had been trying to do for the last couple of minutes and kept getting shot down), a gentleman to our far right start puking and just like that.. Vandy Montana was ready to get out of the aid station.

Chilling at the aid station.

A broader view of the aid station happenings.

The next mile was all downhill. Which was awesome, but it was also all downhill in snow. And not Tennessee snow that is like 1/2 inch deep. No people, we're talking SNOW that people ski on. Snow that isn't completely compacted and so with every step you're  one, unsure if your foot will slide forward and out from under from you making you fall on your butt in slow motion.  Two, if your foot will slide off and down the side of the trail making you lose your balance and topple off the side of the mountain. Or three, if your foot will crunch right down into a foot deep hole which makes you fall forward from your other foot.

Good times.

Once we finally got out of the snow we were able to cruise down the mountain pretty rapidly. I was super impressed and proud of Vandy Montana and his mental stamina at this point. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, we RARELY walked (only if the footing was precarious) and only took a little break for his feet every 20 minutes or so. We rocked down the hill and for the most part, I felt good, too. But, I felt like I could have spit fire from my mouth. I was DYING of thirst. All I could think about was getting to that last aid station where I was going to drink a gallon of water even if I had to kneel down at the edge of a creek to drink.

After being told by multiple hikers along the way that were "just about there" when we were actually 20-30 minutes away usually (FU hikers) we finally started hearing people and knew we were coming up on the last aid station.

Aid station Number 10. HALLELUJAH. And best of all, it was in a public park with PLENTY of water. I took care of Vandy Montana's multiple cups of coke and then got myself a huge cup of water. Ahhhhhhh. Relief. I filled my water bottle up this time, too, even though we only had about 4 miles left to run.

Once we left the aid station, I was ready to get this mofo race DONE with and I'm sure I unfairly pushed the pace a little on my fresh legs...

It was at this point that I felt like Vandy Montana needed me, but I didn't know what the hell to do. I didn't know if he wanted me to talk the entire time to try and take his mind off it. I didn't know if he wanted me to stay quiet. I didn't know if he wanted to take his handheld water bottle and beat me to a pulp and leave me for dead. And, I suspect, that he didn't know what he needed (if anything) except to see the finish line. I was beginning to feel like I hadn't really done anything to help him. I mean, sure at aid stations I took care of him, but other aid station workers would have done that for him, if he had asked. I felt like this was my time... the time that I was supposed to be doing something and that I was supposed to intuitively know what that something was. But, I didn't. Vandy Montana is one of my best friends and I know him really well, but for once... I didn't know what the hell to do. So... I ran.

And apparently, I annoyed him by looking at my watch too much (which, would have annoyed the shit out of me if I were in his position, too). As soon as he told me to stop looking at my watch, I felt his pain. I knew at that moment, that he was in that stage... that raw stage where you'll obsess and drive youself crazy over any little random thing. Like.. your running partner looking at their garmin every 2 seconds.

Finally, it was time for us to break off. We had already discussed that he wanted me to "sprint" (muahahahaha) ahead of him so that I could be at the finish to video tape him (with his flipcam) crossing the finish line. I took the camera from him, and told him I'd see him at the finish line...

Part 2: Running err... Climbing.

So here I was finally "pacing" (or as I liked to call it.. keeping Vandy Montana company and annoying the shit out of him for 17 miles). It had been a long day of waiting around anxiously, and it was finally time to get down to business.

Going into this pacing gig, I had all kinds of preconceived notions: I was going to be the best damn pacer there was. Vandy Montana was going to attempt to throw in the towel and everytime I was going to go all Herb Brooks on him and inspire him to the finish line. He was going to attempt to throw himself off the side of a mountain instead of finishing and I was going to talk him off the ledge. Literally.  I was going to be the pacer that drived him and urged him across the finish line and all the other runners were going to be jealous that I wasn't their pacer.

In reality though, that didn't happen, at all. 

Once we left the aid station, we kind of took it easy. The next 7+ miles to the next aid station were the toughest of the course. And we had no idea what to expect. We knew we would be topping out around 9000 ft, and we were at about 6500 feet at the aid station. I wore my garmin and Vandy Montana asked me to put the elevation setting on the display, so that we could monitor it as we went along.

Eventually we started climbing a bit and I thought... oh shit. Here we go. We got up to about we were hovering around 8,000 feet for awhile and I was looking forward to getting the hard part over with.

And then... we started going down.

And I started to get pissed. In my head I was cussing the race director. What the hell? When are we going to get this freaking mountain over with? You have us go up part of the way, to tease us, only to make us climb BACK down and then BACK up another mountain????? Ass-hole. I kept it cool with Vandy Montana though. That was my strategy for the day, when he asked me how I was doing (which, he did a lot) my response was going to always be upbeat, but not annoyingly so. My usual response was, I'm good. Or I'm okay. Even if I was suffering from acute mountain sickness I wasn't going to led on that I was in any pain or discomfort. I wasn't going to be a problem for Vandy Montana. He had enough problems. 50 of them.

Eventually we got to a clearing and Vandy Montana took a break, laying down. I looked ahead and saw this

Ummm... Okay. And then in the white stuff up there, I saw tiny little dots moving. Must by my imagination, I thought. A guy passed by us and I asked him... ummm... that's not the mountain, right? He told us that indeed it was. And that white stuff?? Yeah, that's snow. And those tiny dots are racers. F@*K.

The next mile or so, we would be climbing that mountain. Straight-UP. No switchbacks, no trails around the mountain, but straight up.

We got back on the trail and started our ascent. I've done some hiking that is straight up and I've ran at 8000-9000 feet of elevation before (at the Madison Marathon in Montana last year), but I've never CLIMBED AT ELEVATION like this before. I was out of breath literally after about 5 steps. We were climbing about 100 feet of elevation every 10 minutes or so. And we stopped to take breaks about every 125 feet.

The breaks were awesome. As soon as I caught my breath, I felt fine and the next few steps up felt wonderful, and then the elevation would zap my breath again and I'd huff and puff until our next break. And once we took a break, it took me a good 2-3 minutes to actually catch my breath.

If I could have cussed and breathed at the same time, trust me, I would have been throwing expletives off that mountain like you wouldn't believe. And then we hit the snow and it was slippery and annoying. I mean, it's bad enough to be struggling with your breath, but now we were struggling with our footing. Luckily, going up the mountain, there wasn't too much of the path that was covered in snow. But enough to be shitty.

Finally, we started approaching the top. We stopped for a minute to take a last little break and I could tell that Vandy Montana was not doing so hot. I had been offering him food everytime we took a break, but he never took it. Finally, he agreed to take a mini cliff bar that I had. I chowed down on some shot blox and before we got ready to tackle the last little bit, we chatted up someone going past us.

Turns out, because of the snow, the top of this mountain, wasn't actually our summit. Oh no, we actually had to climb up another mountain next to it for another 300 feet of elevation. Just a little bonus, ya know. I mean is this a damn race or a freaking mountaineering expedition? Jeez.

At this point, Vandy Montana and I were both pissed. We started to make our way, slowly up to the top of the mountain. We took another break and Vandy Montana ate another cliff bar (a full size one) and admitted to me that he had started feeling light-headed awhile back.

D-U-D-E. You gotta tell me this stuff! I'm your pacer, you gotta let me save you and be awesome! Ugh.

Finally, we got to the flippin top of that piece of shit bonus mountain.

9500 ft. The highest I've ever been

And I was thrilled. Thrilled with the view, thrilled with the fact that the aid station was close by and thrilled with the fact that the hardest part (course-wise) of the race was behind us. 

Vandy Montana taking a break with other runners on the summit.

Self Portrait (duh)

Views.

We started making our way down the mountain and towards the aid station... Only 10ish more miles to go...

I might just die.

Last Friday I flew out of Nashville at 5:25am and arrived in Salt Lake City around 11:30am local time. The plan was to drive down to Provo, grab some lunch and then scope out the start/finish lines of the race and maybe try to drive through some of the mountains that the race course went through.

After a LONG mexican lunch. (Seriously, I LOVED Utah, but the service in the restaurants that we chose was shit-tay. Who goes to a mexican place for lunch and spends an hour and a half there??? Wait, let me rephrase that. Who goes to a mexican place for lunch and DOESNT order margaritas and spends an hour and a half there???).

Now it was time to head down to the park where the start/finish line was. Along the way I couldn't stop staring out the window. Utah is gorgeous, y'all. I mean. SERIOUSLY. Mountains everywhere. I was in complete and utter awe. I had no preconceived ideas of what Utah would look like, but it definitely blew me away.

When we got to the park I cracked up when I saw this...

Yes, folks that is Vandy Montana standing in front of a Root Beer Float Mug. WTF? How awesome is that??

The park was pretty. It had a little creek running through it and Mountains everywhere.

After the park, we decided that we could drive over to the 2nd Aid Station that was going to be at a campground.

It was during this drive that I thanked Vandy-Montana profusely for his 3am drunk dial last November. That phone call, I was beginning to realize, was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. This course was going to be NUTS y'all. And this part was the easy part!!!!!

The type of scenery you want to drive through or hike for 3-4 days through and enjoy? YES. The type of scenery you want to run 50 miles in for a race? Hells NO.

It was at this point in the day that I started thinking about what I was going to say at Vandy Montana's Memorial. I can crush a toast at a wedding or special event, but somehow, I don't think I'd fare so well with a eulogy. I tried to play it cool... casually asking him if his parent's and girlfriend's phone numbers were easily identifiable in his phone. I tried to make him think I was kidding about it. But... I wasn't. I also confirmed with him that he was bequeathing me all his wine. I considered getting it in writing, but thought that that might freak him out a little.

And then, I realized... HOLY SHIT. This isn't even the hardest part. No... the hardest part of the course is yet to be seen and that's the part that I'm pacing for. Why the hell am I worried about him?? He's a beast in the hills and lives in a higher elevation that me. I should be worried about myself, for chrissakes! I made sure to let Vandy Montana know that my parents phone numbers were in my phone listed under their actual names instead of "Mom and Dad." (that's not weird, right?). And tried to forget about my 17 mile death march tomorrow. Afterall... at least it wasn't 50 miles.

We drove to the hotel to settle in. I immediately got all my shit out of my bag and got it ready for the morning.  I wanted to make sure that I hadn't forgotten to pack anything like socks, my handheld water bottle, my sanity. We chilled in the room until it was time to head downstairs to the pasta dinner and the pre-race briefing.

This was the first time either of us had gone to a pre-race pasta dinner. And, it was honestly, a little weird. For one... no one sat at our table with us until every other table was completely full. It was like we had the word "NEWBIE" stamped on our foreheads. One guy sat down, scarfed his food down in 2 minutes and then got up to go stand at the table next to us. Like... we were that awful to sit with, apparently.

The pre-race briefing was just that... brief and the race director didn't answer the one question that we had... how the hell was I going to get to Aid Station #8 to hop in the race with Vandy Montana? The race instructions strongly discouraged driving to it yourself and even if you did, you had to have a 4wheel drive vehicle AND you had to somehow get back there at the end of the day to pick your vehicle up. Logistically... it was a problem.

At the end of the briefing, Vandy Montana raised his hand and asked the question... The race director then said.. "Oh, right! I almost forgot... so, there will be a suburban driving up to Aid Station #8 in the morning, any pacers that want a ride, they'll have 3-4 seats. You can volunteer at the aid station in exchange for a ride."

Perfect! I was excited to volunteer and get a feel for a 50 mile race.

We headed out to find a bar to grab a couple of beers and a grocery store for supplies for the next morning. We didn't stay out too late... The 5am race start was going to be there before we knew it.

Race Report: Big Sur International Marathon

Finally. The day had arrived.

Vandy Montana and I got up at 2:45 and immediately started getting things ready for the race. We packed a huge ass bag of random crap*: bananas, yogurts, gatorade, zingers (obviously for Vandy Montana, not me), etc. We had planned to eat our breakfast on the long shuttle ride to the start of the race.

Which brings me to this point about Big Sur... If you're not a morning person... you probably wouldn't like this race, logistically. You have to be shuttled to the start. Which is... 26.2 miles away (actually a little further than that, because the shuttle pick-up isn't at the finish line...). The first shuttle picks up at 3:45 and the last shuttle leaves at like 5:00 or something. Being the always anal about being early people that we are (probably one reason Vandy Montana and I are such good friends) we were standing outside waiting to be picked up by the shuttle at 3:40.

We got on the school bus. And we got the HUMP seat. You remember the hump seat, right? It's the seat with a wheel under it. Ugh. so, yeah, I had to ride bitch-style for an hour before a marathon. Meanwhile, we sat there eating our yogurts (without spoons), bananas, Vandy Montana ate his zingers. And we chit-chatted and talked loudly the entire ride, obnoxiously keeping anyone in the back of the bus awake. Totally my style, of course.

Once we got to the start it was still dark and about 5am. We still had almost 2 hours to kill. We decided to hit up the porta potties first and on the way, I attempted to throw away the yogurt cups and got chastised by a recycling nazi. Hey, it's not my fault it's 5am in the morning, and so dark that I can't read the various instructions on each can you've got there. I mean... you're standing there... isn't that your job to tell me where it's supposed to go instead of watch me throw it away and THEN make me feel guilty??

I told him I was from Mississippi, shrugged and ran away. And then avoided him like the plague on the walk back from the porta potties, afraid that his eco-conscience eyes would burn holes in my soul if he laid eyes on me again.

We chit chatted with some various folks until it was time to start lining up.

The sun was coming up... the weather was warm-ish and the was little wind and no fog to speak of. A RARE race start for Big Sur's 25th running.

Contrary to what most of you are probably thinking right now.. I actually had a plan for this marathon. And more than just a plan to PR... I had a plan to start the first few miles slow and then to accelerate after Hurricane Point (a hill of about 4% grade and about 2 miles long). When it finished at mile 10, I was going to smoke it on that downhill and bust my ass the rest of the way and PR like a rockstar.

So, I started out with the 4:30 group.

Like most races these days, the beginning of the race was CROWDED.

My first mile was 10:00. It was at this point, after listening to the 4:30 pacer yell at the group about "saving it on the downhills till later" and other really annoying bits of advice constantly I decided to ditch those guys.

I took off and eventually caught up to the 4:15 group.

All was good. The first few miles were kinda boring... but as we got out of the forest and started seeing the coast line, I started to get exhiliarated.

People were stopping along the way, to take photos... I was starting to tell that this was going to be a FUN race. Not just a beautiful one.

By the time you got to mile 7, you came around a corner and down a hill and you could see Hurricane Point looming ahead and as soon as I caught a glimpse of it, I laughed out loud. The thing looks massive. And at it's base was a group of women playing some huge ass drums..

It was awesome... the deep, bass-tones of the drums were so foreboding... and it gave you a simultaneously great and creepy feeling as you started up the hill. It was my understanding that this was really the only major hill on the course and that after it, it was pretty much flat or downhill. (I REALLY need to learn how to read those elevation maps, apparently). So, I just slowed down a little and chugged up the hill.

To be honest? I didn't really think anything of it. I never cracked a 10:00/mile pace while climbing... and I do that all the time in Percy Warner Park. So... once we got to the downhill, I was feeling awesome. Like I could really PR that day.

I stopped at a porta potty at top of the hill and then took off again... I was feeling good and loving the views... (I totally wish I took my camera with me.. but who has time to snap pictures when you're trying to PR? All these pics were stolen from their site and are from 2009's race. My race was REALLY sunny).

I was really enjoying the race at this point and by the time I hit the half-way point at Bixby Bridge, I clocked an 8:57 mile for the downhill.

As I rounded the corner and could see the bridge I immediately heard the sounds of the Rocky theme song wafting through the air...

It was awesome. This was the race I was hoping for.

For the next couple of miles I knew that it was time to start picking it up, but everytime I tried, there would be another hill or a windy part of the course. I didn't panic yet though.. there was still time and my legs were feeling fresh.

Now, let me tell you about someone that was running around the same pace as me... from about mile 5 through the finish there was this one guy running the same pace as me.. I would pass him on the uphills and he'd pass me at the water stations... it was a constant ying and yang. Back and forth. And this guy was your typical annoying race guy.

You know the type... Mister I've Ran 100 Marathons and I'm Going to Flirt with Every Girl and Crack a Joke with every Guy and be a General A-Hole for the Entire 26.2 miles.

Yeah. That guy. Ever girl he encountered (including me the first time) he sidled up to them and tried to chit chat his way into their running shorts and when he'd finally get the hint that the girl was Soooo not interested, because A. it was a freaking RACE and B. Clearly the dude's a total D-bag, he'd go annoy some dude who had stopped to walk..."Are you okay???" Dude. Get a Grip. People take walk-breaks in marathons. Not everyone needs your immediate attention.

Every Race Official that we ran past he'd make some joke like.. "I thought this was supposed to be a flat course." Or... "Where are the hills everyone keeps talking about.?."

Ugh. This guy was the bane of my existance for 21 miles. I heard all his cheesy pick-up lines and jokes about 30 times. It was awful. And everytime I thought I'd lost him for good, he'd sneak up and pass me at a water station. I mean, what the hell? Doesn't all that talking make you thirsty? I mean, you've got to be kidding.. not only is he an asshole, but he's a camel, too?? Jeez. Just my luck he runs my freaking pace.

Digressing...

Around mile 17 I was starting to get worried. There was a hill after a hill after a hill. I mean... it was constant and I still wasn't able to consistenly pick up my pace and then the side stitch from hell showed up. I've gotten this particular side stitch a few times before and I think it's usually from a weird combination and water, gatorade, and shot blox. It's not a side stitch really.. it's more of a full stomach stitch. The pain goes directly across my belly and while I can still run with it, it's impossible to accelerate any on the downhills.

Uh-oh.

I had a couple of 11 minute miles because of that pesky side stitch and eventually the side stitch turned into a stomach cramp and I had to duck into a porta potty for a few minutes at mile 22.

I realized that PRing wasn't going to happen. But, I knew that I could still come in under 4:30 and that became my new goal.

The last 5 miles are so aren't nearly as scenic as the middle of the race, so I started to struggle a little. But, was still trying to pick it up a little.. hoping that maybe I could even come in under 4:25. It wasn't happening though...

Until... I heard a familiar voice coming up behind me...

"Just remember..." she yelled...

"Lance Armstrong...who's battled cancer and won the tour de france multiple times... ran the new york city marathon..."

Ohhhhhhhh shit. I thought to myself.

"... and when he finished" she continued "he said that running a marathon was the hardest thing he's ever done."

Yes, folks. It was that annoying 4:30 pacer again.

I immediately heard the people around me groan and grumble... "Are you kidding me?" one guy asked me. I just shrugged my shoulders and said... "well, at least we've got motivation to get the hell away from her." and thats when I picked it up. I pushed it the last 2 miles... I didn't want to hear her bits of wisdom (for the record, I understand.. some people running their first marathons need that. they like the motivation, etc... but for me, thats the most annoying thing I could ever hear. I couldn't imagine putting up with that for 26.2 miles).

The last two miles were awesome and they were a blur. I ran my heart out... I was sweating (it was hot now) and as the busses of volunteers drove past us, they were hanging out of the windows cheering us on. It was awesome. I flew through mile 26 with a 9:27 mile.

As I approached the finish line I pushed it even harder and I heard Vandy-Montana yelling my name and I kicked it up like I was running to the finish line in a 5k.

I crossed the finish line in 4:26 for my second best marathon time. It wasn't a PR, but I was damn happy about it anyway.

I felt like I was going to puke at the finish line, but meandered my way through the food and caught up to Vandy Montana. I was anxious to hear his finish time. When I realized how hilly the race was, I knew instinctively that he was going to kill it that day. And kill it he did. 3:26. A huge PR for him and  I was thrilled for him. (More thrilled than he was, I think. Haha).

Apparently... this is the pre-race fuel of champions:

Who knew?

We found the shuttles and after feeling still puke-like we boarded the shuttles and made our way back to the car.

Big Sur was over and we both nailed it, if I do say so myself.

All in all. I would definitely recommend this race. The course is challenging (although the 20 minute handicap is a bit of a stretch, I'd say 10 minutes is probably a better number), but it's gorgeous and it's fun! I mean, I dont think I'll ever run a race where so many people are smiling and happy and stopping and taking pictures. It was incredible. The race is also incredibly well managed. Great asics short sleeve tech tees (women and men sized) and awesome medals. The only thing that sucked was the after race grub. I mean. REALLY sucked. You were only allowed ONE cookie and then had like bananas and bagels and CUPS of water. (they're trying to get green certifed so they didn't give out bottled water. Arg!).

The course had entertainment along the way... bands, singers, piano, harpist, etc and the volunteers were great and enthusiastic. A classy race.

And now it was time to head back to San Francisco and celebrate!!!!

My splits:

Mile 1- 10:00

Mile 2- 9:34

Mile 3- 8:42

Mile 4- 9:36

Mile 5- 9:20

Mile 6- 9:25

Mile 7- 9:14

Mile 8- 9:39

Mile 9- 9:52

Mile 10- 9:38

Mile 11- 12:38 (Porta potty)

Mile 12- 10:41 (long water stop, shot blox, etc)

Mile 13- 8:57

Mile 14- 9:35

Mile 15- 9:36

Mile 16- 10:14

Mile 17- 9:15

Mile 18- 10:00

Mile 19- 10:04

Mile 20- 11:02

Mile 21- 11:14

Mile 22- 13:33 (potty sto)

Mile 23- 12:00 (no idea)

Mile 24- 11:22

Mile 25- 9:50

Mile 26- 9:27

.2- 1:45

* So, my mom told me to try to scale back on the cussing on the blog... That "crap" was for you, mom. Otherwise I would have said, shit. :)