'Till I Collapse: Modesto Half Marathon 3/19/17

                My Boston Marathon training has been a bit derailed over the past five weeks. Looking at my training log, I felt like crud on my early morning run 2/14/17. Hours later I came down with chills and a fever, feeling sick, sleeping excessively for a few days. Briefly feeling better by that Friday, I jumped back on the trails with friends before a weekend out of town. My hypothermia run in the mud, rain, and wind in Cool turned into an asthma attack and three mile walk back to the car. I pulled out one of the more sluggish 20 milers in some time in Orange County two days later. The next week, my log is plagued by comments about asthma and challenges with breathing. My paces were sluggish and I was struggling, fumbling to catch my breath on any hills and with speedwork. The coughing was getting worse, keeping me from finding solace in sleep, and, thus, being unable to rest. I finally figured it might be more than my asthma and a cold and went to the doctor’s office 2/28/17. The chest x-ray came back as right upper lobe pneumonia. I rested, slept, didn’t run for nearly a week.

                I did take a start at Way Too Cool 50K 3/4/17, had a conservative race, being careful not to push, with an unbelievably successful outcome. I figured I was back. But, running conservatively on trails is not the same as trying to push the pace in a road race. In the past 2 weeks, post Way Too Cool, I was optimistic. The lungs would run out of fuel only after repeated sets of speedwork and more so when I tried to replicate 10K- half marathon pace. Yes, I was still having a mildly productive cough, but I could finally sleep at night. And yes, my voice was doing a perfect Kathleen Turner impersonation, but even that was improving.  After my speedwork session last week, I recognized the Modesto Half could go any number of ways. I might be able to maintain an 8 flat pace or something faster if the lungs could clear out further in 4 days. I was partly running Modesto to have a better sense of what Boston might hold and what might be realistic.

Lorena and I pre-race.

                In the pre-dawn hours of Sunday, I woke, dressed, and picked up my friend Lorena to drive down to Modesto. Lorena was running her 7^th marathon, but more or less as a training run with Canyons 100K remaining her target spring race (I’ll join her there 12 days after Boston! Yes, I know… scheduling, Rhino – try it!). The drive passed quickly – too much chatter about liver and onions and odd foods (it seems Lorena might revert to meat for the right liver…. Ewwww!).  We parked a few blocks from the race start, grabbed our bibs, settled in the car for a brief respite before going to the Start. I warmed up for a mile, wished Lorena well, and went to find the 3:22 pacer. On the way, I spot Karyn (pacing the 1:45 group) and Scott who will run with her; always fun to catch up with some stud tri friends! Anne, who I met with my Boston training group last year, eventually arrived – she was going for marathon #3, had worked her tail feathers off this training cycle, and was going for some pretty big goals (which she had every reason to aim for). I would see how long I could hang with her and Mr. 3:22, as that would be a 7:45 pace to start. I was pretty excited for Annie – 26.2 miles just days after turning 26! The half and full courses split after mile 7. I was dubious about my ability to maintain that pace through then, but figured I had little to lose.

                And when you’re not running at peak form, reminding yourself of what you used to be able to do may not be the best idea. I had pulled out my log and stats from when I ran Modesto (the full) in 2014: a sea of 7:40s until a heat fall apart in the final miles, though still a solid 3:32 finish (and 1:41:30 first half). This had come just 3 weeks after my (still) PR at Napa, with a 31 mile and 22 mile long runs in the intervening weekends. I was decidedly in Beast mode that spring! For the Modesto Half, I was just hoping to be in mode enough to finish respectably. I can’t quite trust my body yet; she is hit or miss and  my lungs fight me with speed attempts.

                The race is off on time at 7 am and I’m ready to give it what I have. My body may have her own thoughts, but my heart and my mind remain all in. The first mile, I stick behind the 3:22 pacer and Annie. I am working, but that speed (7:42) feels okay. It’s actually a rather fun pace! I have delusions that the excitement I feel about the pace might maintain. In the 2^nd mile, Mr. 3:22 gets a bit peppier. I hang on for most of the mile, but eventually let him and Annie go. It feels too rich for my blood, so I pull back. I still drop a 7:37, but it’s more effort than my body wants. Over the next few miles, I will settle back into a pace right around 8. That feels tangible and briefly sustainable. In the 4^th mile, we climb Mount Modesto – the hill is the only reprieve from the flattest of flat courses that is Modesto. I actually like the climb, push it, enjoy the downhill that follows. I eat, ready for the water at the next aid station.

                In the 4^th mile, as we stretch out on the country roads, a voice behind me yells, “Runner on your left!” I move to the right as I think what an asshole statement that is. What is this – a triathlon?!? I’m not on a bike! It’s Scott – just teasing me! I promptly advise him of my internal dialogue. We both comment about how long it might take Karyn to catch us (she has to stay with her pace group!). I briefly run with Scott, then let his Folsom Bike shirt drift down the road of farmland in front of me. I’m feeling okay – not fantastic, but maintaining. I clock out the next couple of miles without much worry or fanfare. The pace is drifting ever so slightly slower, though I am near an 8 flat pace at the 10K point.  There are clusters of spectators along the roads, something I did appreciate with the race a few years back. It nearly helps make up for the flatness that I don’t really care for. The day is humid and I am drenched in sweat. My Project Purple tank is soaked and has been since mile 3. At least the skies are overcast and there is a slight breeze through these miles to provide a mild cooling effect.

Mile 1-7: 7:42, 7:37, 8:03, 8:07, 8:06, 8:13, 8:20.   Mile 7 mat 56:14 (8:02 pace).

The sunrise on the horizon.

 

                The course takes a left after mile 7. This is where Karyn catches me with her 1:45 group. She is always the encourager, but also wanting to be sure I don’t take it too hard. She warns me she’ll have to let Charlie (my Boston training group coach) know if I push too much. I know Karyn! Save it for Boston- save it for Boston. I run with her for a brief bit to where the half and marathon fork off from each other and then keep her in my sights for another 2 miles. I eat again. I work to stay in the center of the road, noting there is slightly less camber to the road there. Again, my pace is fading slightly. The course is heading East and there is the faintest of pink on the horizon. It’s small, but beautiful. I want to capture it with something other my memory. I take out my phone for a photo at mile 9. I also grab a few selfies; I think my skills at taking selfies while running is improving! A friend will later comment on one of these photos about the joy I have. And yes, even on the rough days when any non-goal I have has slipped away, I remain grateful for the process, for the ability to race, for the blessing of being able to run. You can’t buy that. You can’t manufacture that.

The joy of running and racing.

 

                The running is getting harder for me, I am fading. I have not gone full agonal breathing or anything, but I am struggling. My heart is in this, my body stubbornly has no interest in following. It is what it is. I continue on. At mile 10, my pace starts to dip further, threatening a 9 minute mile. ‘Till I Collapse by Eminem comes on my playlist. It’s a new song for me, added by my friend Dani, as part of a fundraiser for Project Purple for Boston ($10 donation for a song choice). Yes, added by my friend Dani, who is kind of spirit and generous of heart, and who should have been running her 2^nd marathon at LA today, had her training not been derailed by health issues. The timing of the song is just what I need as I attend to the lyrics. “ You gotta search within you,  And gotta find that inner strength….”  Basically, I will run “Till my legs give out…. till my bone collapse.” The song has also been preceded by text from my husband “Finish Strong” and is followed by “Stronger” from Kanye.  Needless to say, I am back on track and I feel the love and support. I am not necessarily very much faster, but I am maintaining. Emotionally, I am coming to grips with the implications for Boston as I push on.

Miles 8-13.17: 8:17, 8:27, 8:44, 8:38, 8:34, 8:47, 7:50.

                I eat one final time and push back up Mount Modesto, passing someone on the uphill, though I won’t quite catch the stroller that just breezed past me.  I descend and am counting down the remains of the course. A sub 1:50 should be safe. That puts me at my fitness pre-Chicago, when my foot was fighting me. 3:50 perhaps, but heart might get me to an optimistic 3:45. And I do still have 4 weeks, not one left. It may be still too early to make that decision. I give what I have remaining in the final couple of miles. I turn the final corner of the course. The clock still reads 1:48:xx. I’ll take what I can get.

Official time: 1:48:52 (8:19); 7^th AG F 40-44/156, #34 F/903, #128 OA/1446.

Garmin: 13.17 miles in 1:48:56 (8:16), +59 ft.

                I collect my medal, finisher’s jacket, and some food. I catch up with Karyn and Scott. She had a perfect pacing gig (and is 3^rd in her AG!) and just barely passed Scott at the end. We walk back to our cars; they grab warmer clothes, I grab a jacket and water bottle, dump my medal, so I can add miles. I feel better as Karyn debates dropping Canyons: too much with pacing gigs and Oceanside. Balancing is hard and I struggle to accept that. I struggle to accept my limitations. And yet, they’re knocking at my door. I say my goodbyes to Karyn and Scott so I can run some miles; need to get in the 20 for the day.

With Scott and Karyn post race.

 

                It’s getting warmer and it remains humid. I run the course backwards, find a cute canal running path, circle back to the finish. Annie is showing strong on the online tracker- metronome for the available checkpoints. I anticipate her around 10:20 am. Lorena is also solid through mile 14. I wait at mile 26. There is a man who is staggering, but tries to get going as he sees marathoners behind him. This distracts me. So, I nearly miss Annie coming through on the other side of a volunteer on bike with boombox (he did entertain me around mile 8 with Lady Gaga). The flash of orange catches my eye though and I call out, cheer, grab some photos. Then I sprint across the course and dart around the sidewalk at the corner to catch the glimpse as Annie finishes in an amazing 3:18! (This is beyond her A++ goal!) I meet her parents as we walk through/around the finishers’ chute. Soon we are able to confirm she is the 2^nd overall female in the marathon! I am filled with joy for her – and pride at how all her hard work in training has paid off on a beautifully executed (negative split) race! Can’t wait to see her again in Boston in 2018!

Mile 26 joy for Annie!

 

                I take my leave after a bit to run my final miles and find Lorena. I run out to around mile 24.8 and wait. I finally spot my girl in her bright corral shirt. I have the pleasure of running her in to the finish of her 7^th marathon. We enjoy lunch in town then drive home. Our conversation centers around motivators for running and reasons for racing, personality types, and discomfort. We have come to running from opposite motivators, but we come together in friendship. I find myself fortunate to call her my dear friend. I also see the racing potential she doesn’t quite yet glimpse in herself. It’s a balance thing: running trails, running on the road- finding yourself, pushing yourself.

Lorena approaching mile 25.

                Once home, I get cleaned up. I struggle with that balance. I struggle with a mixed bag of emotions. I did pretty good, considering. But, it’s so far off of my potential. I was diagnosed with pneumonia 2.5 weeks ago; to complete a 1:49 half isn’t too bad. It’s just hard when your body fails you. I pulled back to have a safe race. And I feel I should be racing fine; there is no “injury” present in my mind. I look okay; I’m not visibly injured. So, I feel as though I should be in my usual form. My lungs obviously tell me otherwise. I have 4 weeks until Boston. It’s Boston! You want to show up at Boston and be able to race to your potential. You want to be in peak form after a solid training cycle. You want to go out there and give it your absolute best. Each of the past four years, I have arrived at Boston fit and fast. Even the 2014 celebration year for me, I opted to take my time and savor the race, but was in BQ shape, should I have made an alternate choice. I shed a few tears as I come to terms that I won’t have my best to give this year. My body is not there yet and it is unrealistic to expect it to get there in four short weeks. I will give Boston all I have in me on April 17^th. It may be more in terms of heart this year than speed. But, I still have a lot of heart to give.