Experienced runners say you should savor running your first marathon/half marathon (or whatever distance). There will be other races but you only have one
first, so take the time to enjoy yourself and make it an experience you'll remember. So true.
Yesterday, May 2, 2010, I ran my first half marathon. 21.1 kilometers or 13.1 miles. It's just a half marathon, not a full one. I ran it in 2:32:30. In other words, slow. Turtle pace, if you ask most runners. I'm what they call a back-of-the-pack runner. But, it was a Personal Best time for me and since I'm only in competition with myself, this first is going to be well-remembered.
The entire exercise (pun intended) of getting to that first half marathon was, for me, about being stretched. From beginning to end, it was about stepping out of my comfort zone - an uncomfortable yet completely rewarding journey.
I didn't even start to entertain the thought of running a half marathon until late October last year. Having only run short distances, a half marathon seemed completely daunting. And CRAZY. The only way it was going to work was if I wasn't doing it alone. The decision to do it with Team in Training was a way to be part of a team that kept me accountable and committed to a cause outside of myself.
My training, I thought, was the going to be the easy part of the whole thing. I am quite disciplined and can put in the hard work. I knew that if I was able to get from zero to 5k, then 8k and 10k in 10 months, I could eventually get to 21k. But early in the training, I fell victim to overuse injuries - a common occurrence when a beginner takes on "too much too soon". I was training for this half marathon and a sprint triathlon simultaneously. As the mileage began to climb, I developed Posterior Tibialis, an inflammation of the tendon on the inside of the ankle. With the help of my excellent online coach, I slowly recovered from the injuries and made my way back. He really focused on keeping me healthy until race day.
The "team"aspect of Team in Training is great. But even that didn't come easy to someone who is quiet and shy like me. I showed up at the Sunday Group Training Sessions (GTS), ran my distances and went home. I wasn't one of the gregarious ones, but I did manage to make a few friends and enjoyed the Sunday long runs.
And then...there was the fundraising. This was probably the most difficult part. I have a heart for causes and have often considered joining charity endurance races, but always reconsidered when there is a fundraising component involved. In my mind, raising money would come so easy to someone who is outgoing. In other words, not me. It took ALL OF ME to get out there and ask for my friends' help. I knew it was something I had to do, but I had knots in my stomach all through the fundraising. I had to constantly remind myself that this part was not for me, but for all the kids, families, and patients affected by blood cancers. I wish I could have done more, because the cause is huge and worthy. I want to extend a heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone who supported me. Also big thanks to the staff at Team in Training, particularly Veronica Ma, who held my hand and offered SO MUCH support to get me through the fundraising - thank you for your dedication. I reached, and exceeded, my fundraising goal!
GETTING TO THE START LINE: THE TAPER
The most interesting aspect of my training was going through the taper period. Putting together the bits and pieces I hear from my running friends, I envisioned "The Taper" to be this wonderful period where your training load is significantly decreased, and you top up your body's carbohydrate stores to prepare for race day. Everyone seems to love The Taper. After more than 4 months of training, I was really looking forward to experiencing it myself. I was tired and thought, "FInally, some downtime". I was wrong.
First of all, because of the injuries I had to get through, my taper was delayed. Typically, you gradually decrease workload 4 weeks from race day. With only 2 weeks to go, I was still making up for lost time and had just ran my maximum mileage then at 10 miles (16km), running for 2 hours. There was no more time and I would have to wing it for the last 3 .1 miles (5km) on race day. But I felt good and my coach was confident I would have no problem getting through it. I had 2 weeks to taper.
When I got my schedule for the first week of the taper, I thought, "Hmmm...this is no easier than last week's schedule." The runs were maybe 10% shorter, but instead of long steady runs, I had speedwork to do 3 times a week. Whereas my Team in Training teammates (who had been tapering ahead of me) only had a 5k "long" run that Sunday that would take a maximum of 30 minutes, I had to do 1:30 - with speed intervals. Where was the magical taper? I had to ask my coach, who patiently explained that intensity, in the form of tempo runs and speed intervals, were a necessary part of the taper, as your body uses the built up lactic acid in the muscles from the decreased workload to give you "fresh legs" on race day. It's all so scientific, and even though I did not fully understand it at the time, I had to trust the experience and knowledge of my coach.
Week 2 of taper (the week before the race), was significantly different. I had 3 rest days, which I had never ever seen on my schedule before. Typically I get 1 rest day, sometimes none. Hurray for rest days! And, I only had 3 short runs to do, although they still involved speed intervals. However, my excitement over finally getting to race week slowly dwindled as the week wore on. I probably felt the worst on this week, even counting the days I was out with injuries. Tapering does strange things to your body. I was VERY sore. My knees hurt, my shins hurt, my ankles hurt. I was bloated, and I felt fat. I had anxiety issues, worrying that my body would not hold up on race day. I was irritable and cranky. Taper = not good, I thought. Although I knew that in theory it was good for me, because I had not experienced it before and did not understand what my body was going through, it was NOT FUN. I probably made a bunch of newbie mistakes, too, in areas like my nutrition. I sat in bed on the eve of the race, with very sore legs, questioning whether I had what it takes to finish 21.1 kilometers the next day. In retrospect, it wasn't that bad, except that it wasn't what I expected and I did not know any better. I'll know for next time.
RACE DAY
This was it. It was here. There was nothing left to do but run the 21.1 kilometers. I had to trust the training. It didn't matter at this point how I felt - I just had to get it done. And that, for some reason, made me calm as I woke up and went through all the pre-race preparations. Team in Training had arranged for all of us to stay overnight at the Fairmont Pacific Rim, a brand-new hotel downtown close to the race start. That was a VERY nice treat. After having our team pictures taken, we got on the bus to the race start.
A bunch of us went to use the washrooms at the hotel to avoid the porta-potty line-ups at the race. As a result, we missed the first 2 buses and had to get on the last bus leaving the hotel at 6:30am. The half marathon start was at 7:00am. We got to the race site with 20 minutes to spare but there were a few things to do - I had to drop off my backpack at Gear Check, find Alex and hand off my sweatshirt, wallet, keys and cellphone. The race start was a mess! I got to Gear Check, but I couldn't find Alex anywhere. And, I had to use the washrooms again. Darn race day nerves! With 14,000 people racing, the line-ups for the porta-potties were insane but I had no choice - there is nothing more uncomfortable than racing with a full bladder, and I did not want to stop halfway through for a potty break. I heard the announcer count down the start of the half marathon. I was still in the line-up and Alex was still nowhere in sight. A kind lady gave up her spot so I could go first. Thank goodness for chip timing.
The Start
I basically ran from the porta-potties to the start line, carrying the pouch with my wallet and cellphone under my arm and still wearing my sweatshirt. It made for a harried and uncomfortable start, but I stayed calm and quickly settled into a comfortable rhythm. I was feeling good, but I tried to hold back and just concentrate on keeping an even pace. I knew I would catch Alex in the next few kilometers, and did my best juggling my pouch and sweatshirt until I was able to hand them off at Km 4.
Km 5
It was raining quite hard at this point, but it didn't bother me at all. I just enjoyed the race. I thanked and smiled at the volunteers, took in the scenery, the people cheering. Mentally, I kept telling myself that this wasn't a big deal. It was just another long training run - except with spectators and water stations. I had to do that to keep from focusing on the fact that I had about 15 kilometers to go. I looked around and found some of my purple-clad Team in Training teammates, and it felt comforting to run amongst them.
Km 8
Before I realized it we were rounding the corner to head into Stanley Park, almost 8 kilometers in. I had been slightly ahead of my normal pace right from the start. Other than some stiffness in my right knee, I was feeling great. It's as if all the soreness magically vanished. I stopped to stretch out my knee for a bit, and a volunteer quickly came and asked if I was ok. I gave her the thumbs up. I really was ok; I just needed to stretch a bit. As we approached an hour, I was still ahead of pace. This was good. I wanted to be ahead so I had time to tackle the giant hill looming up ahead.
Km 12-14: Prospect Point Hill
I kept expecting the hill from about Km 10, and it seemed to take forever to get here. I had only heard about this hill. I never had a chance to tackle it as I was off with injuries when the team did their practice run here. I was only slightly worried. Even though I incorporated little hill training in my workouts, over the months I had noticed an increase in my ability to tackle hills. I knew that on race day, I would have no choice but to run up Prospect Point and I had to "just deal" at that point. Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad. Yes, I had to walk a couple of stretches to get my breath back but I pretty much ran up most of the way. I was very grateful for the spectators who were shouting encouragement as we rounded up the corners. One lady, obviously an athlete who has done this before, gave pointers to "swing the elbows back and lean into it!" God bless her; she was awesome. As we got up to the crest of the hill and approached 14km, I was delighted to note that I was still ahead of pace. It was all downhill from here!
Km 15
The downhill stretch was most fun. I had mentally calculated to start picking up my pace after Km 14 and prepare for the push in the last 5 kilometers. Going downhill made this easy. At this point my legs were doing their own thing, and I was feeling no pain. So THIS was what the taper had accomplished! It was so amazing to me how the body just took over. I was passing some people and going at a pretty good clip. I wanted to hit 17 kilometers at the 2 hour mark so I could cruise through the last 4 kilometers and make it to the finish line in under 2:30. My Garmin GPS watch was marking the kilometers ahead of the course by about 200 meters, but I had to go with the course markers. The course leveled off and I pushed but only managed to get to 16.8 kilometers at 2 hours. This was still faster than I had ever run before, but I had to really push through the last 4.3 kilometers to make it under 2:30.
Finish
The last 3 kilometers were the hardest. Mentally, you know that the finish line is looming, yet you have work to do before you get there. And somehow, those last few kilometers seemed to take forever. This has always been my challenge. No matter how long the run is, when I know that the end is near, I have to mentally push through that last part. It's silly how on a 2:00 run I can run strong for 1:30 and struggle through the last half hour, and on a short 40-minute run I am fine for 30 minutes and struggle through the last 10.
The last mile was brutal. I could feel the chafing in my feet and the tiredness in my legs; my lungs were pushing, but I didn't want to stop. I rounded the corner and saw the finish line from about 500 meters out. It seemed to take forever to get to it. The crowd was loud. "You're almost there! Don't stop!" Yeah, I know. Tell that to my legs and my lungs. It was sheer determination and a little bit of pride that got me to the finish without walking.
The hardware I earned
POSTSCRIPT
Finally stepping on the finish mat, the medal (my first medaled event - I guess they figure if you're still alive after 21km you deserve one?), the congratulations, the hugs, the pats on the back, the satisfaction of running at a personal best time...ALL GOOD.
But it was the getting here that was most rewarding. The days spent training when you'd rather be sleeping. The Sundays given up to run with teammates dedicated to the same purpose. The evenings cross-training at the gym and the pool. The time sacrificed by loved ones. The many, many hours spent logging workouts and nutrition and learning from them. The after-work workouts when your body is spent. Working to get the money raised.
I learned so much in the process. About myself. About pushing past obstacles, and conquering fears. I have grown. I have come to realize how awesome my friends are. (Ok, I always knew my friends are awesome.) I realized how far I can stretch myself, not only physically but in other aspects as well. That is it's own reward. Oh, and there are also "less profound" lessons learned, like, how to apply KT Tape to almost every aching part of my body. I learned that chafing is real and NOT fun, and that chocolate GU is the best thing ever.
Would I do it again? The honest answer is, if I didn't have to fundraise I would do it again next week. I think a half marathon is very...doable. Now a full marathon - that's crazy. Don't quote me, though. Who knows, right?
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