Race Report: New Year's Day Predict Run

It was a quite a Christmas in my household. I'll spare you the details, but here's the outline:

1. Thursday, Dec. 20: Cancelled flight to Missouri; we end up driving two days instead

2. Saturday, Dec. 22: Dan diagnosed with bronchitis and put on antibiotics.

3. Wednesday, Dec. 26: Will tested and found positive for Influenza A, then put on Tamiflu. Soon after, his sister got sick too. Oh, and so did I, my second nasty one since the California International Marathon. Cough, snot, low appetite, low energy.....

4. Friday, Dec. 28: This was the day we were supposed to drive back to Colorado. We had to delay because Ruth was still feverish. And I wasn't so great myself.

5. Sunday, Dec. 30: We finally pulled into our own driveway back in Colorado. Everyone's on the mend now...just in time for work and school to resume.

I'd really like a Christmas do-over. It was still nice to see my mom and sister and lots of friends and family, but there wasn't a lot of relaxed holiday cheer. I also missed two runs....and we all know what that does for mood and morale, sick or not.

Sometime amid all this, however, I had asked Darren if I could run a 5K on New Year's Day. I am signed up for the 5 by the 5th Virtual Run Series hosted by Laura at See Mommy Run Fast, as well as the related Resolution Run, and wanted to do the latter as part of a real race.

My resolution is to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Boring, aren't I?

 
Instead of a 5K, Darren suggested I do an informal and fun little run in Boulder called the New Year's Day Predict Run. It started at Flatiron Athletic Club, where I had a memorable treadmill run two years ago on the same holiday, and I admit that given the location I felt twinges of that old fear of coming in last. But the run appealed to me. For one thing, Darren and Colleen were both running it. And it's an old-school event co-hosted by the venerable Boulder Road Runners. The idea is 1) you predict the time in which you'll finish the course, 2) you run "naked" (no watch, no GPS) and 3) the winners are those who came closest to their predicted time.

So off to Boulder I went. It's a bright and beautiful day here. The frigid fog of earlier burned off, and by the time we started at 10 a.m. it was chilly but perfect (not like the butt freezer I had early in the morning yesterday from home; that was a frozen hair frozen eyelashes outing). Today's course went right through my old neighborhood, a lucky thing for me since there were no mile markers or volunteers out there to direct us. I shuffled along, avoiding patches of snow and frost and ice-skate-jogging on a few portions where the streets hadn't been plowed after last week's snow dump.

I had no expectations for this run, another reason it was good I didn't do a 5K. This was never going to be a personal record day, and I'd really like to smash my 5K PR the next time I do one. I predicted 37:59 for the 4.5-mile-ish course and came in at 40:06. Despite the inaccuracy of my guess, it wasn't a dreadful time given that I'm still coughing and congested (as well as tired from the road trip), and I was happy that I passed two people and got passed by no one (there were only about 75 people total). The winners of the prediction piece each came within 15 seconds of their actual time, pretty impressive considering the watch-free requirement. The person who crossed the line first? Yep, you guessed it....Colleen!

Afterwards I hung out and chatted with a couple of people (including a nice guy from the Road Runners who invited me to their Saturday group run, which it turns out happens not too far from where I live; I may take him up on it!). I also found out from Darren that he himself had been down eight days with the flu over Christmas and hadn't been able to exercise the whole time--which somehow made me feel like less of a wimp. After collecting a new stocking cap and a gift card to a local restaurant, I took a hot shower in the club's amazing locker room and spent some time in the hot tub.

Not a bad way to ring in the New Year! I hope all the rest of you are having a good day, too, racing well if you're racing--and may none of us be sick again for a while.

Now I'm off to tackle another marathon....the one in which we deal with the disaster areas our kids' rooms became over the break from school.....

Race Report: California International Marathon

Somewhere near the Mile 17 marker, I sat inside a port-a-john, listening to the tireless rain tap-swishing on the roof. I had not ducked in there seeking shelter--unfortunately for the first time in six marathons I was in there because I had to be--but getting out of the rain was a nice side effect.

There were numerous "lakes" and "rivers" to run through on this course. Photo via hmgiraffy.

However, even on a bad weather day, a potty is not a place to linger. Plus, there were other runners waiting in line. So I pulled my soaked shorts up, adjusted them in a fruitless effort to get them to stick to me a little less and opened the door, holding it for the next person. The guy who followed me in there? One of the 4-hour pace group leaders. He looked in good spirits, but the sight of him doused what was left of mine. His presence meant I wasn't going to meet my secondary goal of finishing under 4 hours.

But damnit, I thought grimly, I am going to finish.

The race had been a crazy adventure since Tricia and I climbed off of our warm yellow school bus that morning at 6:30 a.m. It was dark, and the rain cascaded down on us in horizontal sheets. Despite her parka, my garbage bags and our hodgepodge of throwaway clothing, we were both soaked in seconds, including our Vaseline-coated feet inside our shoes. We easily found potties and used them, but in my case (ominously) I couldn't "go". Usually I'm good for at least two pre-race trips. Something about that cold and wind had caused my entire digestive mechanism to halt, I think, and that's what I paid for at Mile 17.

We sought shelter inside an open convenience store that was packed with soggy runners in various stages of undress, but soon it was time to say good-bye to each other and venture out again for good. I found the 3:55 pacer as planned, and my spirits lifted a little. I didn't hear the gun go off. As always in a marathon, it was a relief to start running.

The fast guys line up in the rain.

After the gun (photos borrowed from the Sacramento Bee; hopefully my blog is small enough I won't get in trouble for using them)

Once moving, I warmed up quickly and didn't mind being wet any more. In fact, I felt good. The headwind wasn't pleasant, but the first few miles felt like nothing, the rolling hills felt like nothing and I was hanging easily behind the pacer and felt plenty distracted by the conversation of a large group of Canadians who were also sticking with him. They'd shout enthusiastically when their Garmins beeped a kilometer mark. My own Garmin was staying nicely close to the actual mile markers, a testament to the wise moves of the pacer and the few sharp turns on this course. It's true, my pace was off...it was slow by just a bit less than what I'd been warned the day before (they said 30-40 seconds per mile; I was off by about 20-30 at that point). But I had been expecting that.

Even by the halfway mark, I still felt good. I'd managed to take my Shot Bloks every three miles. That's more often than usual, but the pacers had also warned us the day before that running in a headwind requires more fuel and water. I had carried my bottle through 10 miles and ditched it at an aid stop when it was empty, but since then had had no problems grabbing water from volunteers. I was pleased at how my legs felt and how little the hills had bothered me. I wasn't happy or chatty, but I also wasn't grouchy. The rain kept sheeting down, and the wind kept blowing...but it had just become the way it was.

Mile 1--	9:19
Mile 2--	8:57
Mile 3--	8:39
Mile 4--	8:51
Mile 5--	8:56
Mile 6--	9:00
Mile 7--	9:07
Mile 8--	9:01
Mile 9--	9:00
Mile 10--	8:47
Mile 11	--8:45
Mile 12--	8:59
Mile 13--	8:51

 Mile 14-- 8:53

It was my stomach that did me in. It started speaking at Mile 15 and by the time I rolled up to the port-a-john line at Mile 17 it was urgent. I think Darren was right when he said I need to work on using sport drink of some kind instead of gels and Bloks. But it was too late for this race.

Mile 15-- 9:00
Mile 16-- 9:06
Mile 17-- 11:36 (there's the stop!)

When I started running again, despite wanting to get as much time between me and the 4-hour pacer as I could before he finished in the bathroom, I never got the early paces back. There may have been a bonk involved as well, right on schedule after Mile 18.

Mile 18-- 9:04
Mile 19-- 9:14
Mile 20-- 9:17

The 4-hour pacer caught me in Mile 20. With him was a woman about my height and weight, but much fresher and happier. I followed behind them as best as I could, listening to them talk. She told him how she was feeling great, had started with the 4:10 pace group and now "just knew" that a sub-4 was possible. Her original goal had been 3:50, but she was really happy with how she'd done. He told her she had been smart to start where she had. And I thought, "That's what I should have done, too. I wasn't conservative enough. I went out too fast."

Mile 21-- 9:05

Sometime between Mile 20 and 21, the rain stopped. I first saw blue sky peeking out when we crossed the bridge over the American River and headed toward downtown Sacramento and the finish line. But instead of feeling heartened by this, I kept thinking how the wind was still there, and I started slowing down again.

Mile 22-- 9:12
Mile 23-- 9:18

With three miles to go, I stopped to walk. My legs felt as though they were done, and I was so so sick of that wind in my face. I watched the smart happy girl and the 4-hour pacer with his red sign recede in the distance ahead of me.

Mile 24--11:40

Mid-way through Mile 25, though, with the crowds thick, I started to shuffle-jog again. I just wanted to be finished.

Mile 25-- 11:08

The park around the California state capitol building, where I knew the finish line stood, appeared on my left.

Mile 26-- 9:57

We rounded one corner, then another to the women's finish line.

Final .2--9:02 pace

I crossed the line, barely raising my eyes to the beautiful state building and the towering Christmas tree in front of it. The sun shone brightly, and soggy but mostly happy runners were everywhere. I drank some chocolate milk, but otherwise all I could think of was getting my drop bag and getting into dry clothes. I did wonder how Tricia had weathered the storm (very well, it turns out), but I also knew she'd understand my impulse to change and then get back to the hotel for my shower. When she got back, and after she got her well-deserved shower, we made our way down to the hotel bar. It was only then that I started to feel better. We had just finished a really hard, really wet and windy marathon. She had a beer, burger and fries, and I had a mimosa, a huge plate of nachos and some sweet potato fries. Man, did that ever taste good!

The final result: 4:06:32, a 9:24 average pace. I was 163rd out of 534 in my 35-39 female age group (top 31%) and 2544 out of 6496 total male and female finishers (top 39%). I was 817th among all women, but I don't have the total number of women in the race yet. It was a "personal worst" among the most recent three of my six marathons, but it was still better than my one-time "personal best" of 4:14 set in New York City in 2005. I guess there's something to be said that my standards have changed.

You've now heard all the things that went wrong. Here are some good things I did:

1. I lowered my expectations for a bad-weather day. Turns out I didn't lower them enough, but at least I knew not to expect to qualify for the Boston Marathon in that wind. I listened to the smart veterans around me. This led to much less disappointment than I might have felt (disappointed though I was anyway).

2. I learned the power of Vaseline. The only spot I chafed in all the wetness was on my neck where my headphones hung out until Mile 18. That's the only spot I didn't lube LIBERALLY with good old petroleum jelly. My feet didn't bug me at all during this race, whereas usually they are blistered in some way. Going foward, Vaseline will be part of all my long runs and long races.

3. I recognized the overall goodness of the CIM course. I'd love to go back and do it again next year because even amid the bad weather I can see why people like it.

4. The strength training I did with Colleen....a godsend. My legs are the least sore they've ever been after a marathon. To the extent that they are sore, my quads and hamstrings are feeling it equally, and it's the "good sore." I've had no trouble with going down stairs or going for short walks. I'm eying other runners I see out and about with envy. I'm going to continue to hit the weights hard going forward. It seems I've not done enough of that ever, for any prior race.

I've traded a few messages back and forth with Darren about a spring marathon. It's uncertain whether that will be the plan, or whether we'll tackle some more half-marathons in the spring and go for another big one in the fall. I'm hoping to try again sooner rather than later, but I will leave the ultimate decision up to Darren. He's smarter than I am with this stuff!

Thanks again for all of your buoying comments after the race and all of your encouragement before. Will 2013 be my lucky year? Will marathon number seven (wherever it is) be the One? I don't know, but I'm going to keep trying until some year and some race prove to be the Golden Ticket.

Race Report: Detroit International Half-Marathon

The Ambassador Bridge into Canada! This was my first international race! (Thanks to Exposure.Detroit's Flickr site for the image.)

I am officially in love with the City of Detroit. Scrappy underdogs always provoke my sympathy, and this city has been and is still going through so much that it was actually sweet (not a word I often use) to witness the legions of volunteers, police officers, charities, and cheering spectators who came out to help thousands of us run.

My feeling for the city is probably also influenced by the fact that I ran a half-marathon personal record in the Detroit International Half-Marathon. Perfect weather (temperatures in the 40s and 50s, clean rain-washed air) and a course that was mostly flat but not so flat as to be boring or hard on one group of muscles helped me do this.

After the race. I was a pretty happy camper.

My results: 1:46:48, which amounts to an 8:09 average pace and was good for 30^th in the 35-39 year age group. That put me in the top 3% of the 1,001 women in that group. Among all women, I was 151st out of  5981 total, also the top 3%, and overall I placed 615^th of 9556 male and female runners, the top 6.4%. These were my best percentages for any race in recent memory (and maybe ever).

I could not have done this race, coming as I was off of a spring and summer of injury and cross-training, without three people. One is my husband, Dan. He’s the one who helps me make time for my training on a daily basis (especially Saturday morning long runs). And I was so lucky that in the case of this race he was out there watching. We can’t usually afford for him to come with me when I travel to race. When I rounded the cobble-stoned corner where the half-marathoners split off from the marathoners just before the Mile 13 mark, I heard him yelling and calling my name, and then saw him running down the sidewalk parallel to me. I was running as hard as I could, and I knew from the happy look on his face that I looked good. It was a huge lift.

The second person I couldn’t have done without is my coach, Darren De Reuck of Boulder Coaching. The training I’ve done under Darren has been so smart, so focused and so fun. I haven’t once felt tired, except when I was sick (and Darren is the one who made me take four days off running to get over that, something he was right about as he has been about everything else). Darren told me three days before this race that I could run a 1:45. I didn’t run quite that fast, but when I look back at my heart-rate splits, I see that he was right. My average heart rate in this race didn’t get over 160 until I was into the second half—which tells me either that I should’ve warmed up better (the one thing that was hard about this big-city, big-crowd race was getting properly warmed up and still into my corral on time) or that I was holding back and could have run harder from the gun. Lesson learned either way!

The pace did feel hard, especially at the end. Which brings me to the third person who helped me. This person was a total stranger to me before he and I started chatting near the bottom of the tunnel that led us under the Detroit River back from Canada between miles 7 and 8 (the famous "underwater mile"). It’s humid and hot and close in that tunnel, and I said so to the tall lean runner in the Marathon Maniacs jersey who I’d been going back and forth with since near the beginning. He asked me what my goal was and I told him. And after that not only did I run with him the rest of my race, he became my de facto pacer.

You never know who is going to be your friend in a race (much less in life). There was no reason for this guy (“Kurt—rhymes with Hurt” he told me in response to my “Terzah—rhymes with Persia”) to help me run four sub-8-minute miles leading into the finish of my race. He was running the full marathon, and was there to pace a friend of his (the friend, he told me, had been overcome by race-day adrenaline and was way ahead of us). He was hoping to run a 3:45, which meant to help me he was exceeding his goal pace by at least 20 seconds per mile, something that can be deadly that early in a marathon.

But help me he did.

Somewhere around mile 8.5, free of the tunnel and back in the bracing morning air, I was feeling good and I said to him, “Kurt, I am going to do it” (referring to my time goal). He said, “I know you are. You look really strong.” From then on, he was there for me, letting me run on his shoulder, pointing to indicate potholes and slippery mud in the road and which direction our next turn would be. Each mile he led me on was faster than the last, even with a few small bridge inclines thrown in. As we neared the split where the marathoners leave the half runners, he said, “When you leave me, you have to give it all you’ve got.”

I wasn’t talking much at that point, but I think I managed to grin and nod once. The fork in the road came, marathoners went left and halvers right, and I was on my own, going as fast as I could, mostly focused on that last half-mile but already feeling a swell of gratitude toward him underneath my determination. Soon I saw Dan, as I’ve already mentioned. For that last push, I cranked out a 6:34 pace.

I was with it enough to get Kurt’s last name. He’s pushing to get his 50 marathons in 50 states, and I’m hoping that when he does his Colorado race he’ll let me help him run those last six miles, fast or slow, however he wants to do them, whichever race he chooses.

When the race was over, I got a massage and a giant medal with the U.S. and Canadian flags on the ribbon and went back to the hotel for my shower. I had plenty of time to get back out with Dan and Kathy’s husband, Eric, to watch Kathy finish the marathon (her running club buddies, Kelly, Melissa, and Tina, had finished already—Kelly in a spectacular 3:32 that was her first Boston Qualifier! That has to be a good omen, right?). And that night we went out for a barbeque feast. Kathy, Eric and Eric's parents were superb hosts, her running friends were fun and funny and her kids were as clever as ever (and I've known them since they were babies). We couldn't have asked for a more fun weekend.

Pre-race in the lobby--Tina, Kelly, Melissa, me and Kathy. No jitters here. Nope. None.

I’ve been running long enough to know that perfect days don’t come along very often. I don’t know if I could have run that fast without Kurt’s pacing, without the energy of Kathy’s group, without Dan’s presence and steadiness, without Darren’s coaching.

But it doesn’t matter because I had those things in Detroit—an underdog city for an underdog runner’s damn-close-to-perfect return to racing.

(Spectator's) Race Report: Dash n' Dine 5K

Those who can, do.

Those who can't....watch their husbands do!

Last night the kids and I turned out to support my husband, Dan, in his first real race since 2008 (I'm not counting the hilarious but deliberately-not-speedy Muddy Buddy run and ride that he and I did as a team in 2010). In the summer of 2009, he injured his Achilles tendon playing ultimate frisbee, which he loved almost as much as I love running, and it's taken a very long time for him to feel comfortable on it.

But things have been better for his ankle lately. Last year he did some physical therapy for it, and recently he's been regularly running the steep trails behind the laboratory in Boulder where he works, mostly without pain. And when one of his co-workers asked about an easygoing race, preferably on trails, for all of them to do I jumped at the chance to live vicariously through them and did a little research.

What I came up with for them: the spring Dash n' Dine 5K series. It's a great little set of races. Every Tuesday starting in mid-April and going through May, the organizers have a laid-back out-and-back 5K that starts at 6:30 p.m. on a course next to the Boulder Reservoir. After the race is done, a local restaurant provides a dinner that's included in the race fee. Spectators also can buy dinner for $5 each. Last night's fare was tacos and burritos from Wahoo Fish Tacos, one of my family's favorite places to eat.

There's no chip timing or finishers' medals. It's just old-school racing. Because it's Boulder, there can be some fast winning times. (Top man last night: 16:28--pretty fast; the top woman was 20:57, fast to me but not as fast as it could have been). But there are also slower runners and walkers who turn out, and all ages from 7 to 70 were out there. The prizes for placing and for age-group placing (at least last night) were candles.

Another fun aspect is that the more of the series you show up for, the more likely you are to win "series points," especially if you place well. Last night's race was the second one of the season. Dan's friend Hannes, who ran 20:23 for 15th place in the race and 7th in the 30-39 male age group, got 10 points and is now ranked 15th overall in the series. With four more races to go, he could move up in the rankings depending on how many others he does and how well he does (which of course depends on who shows up on a given night and how fast THEY are).

Moreover, they have a prize at the end of the series for the runner who improves his or her time the most over the weeks.

I loved the laid-back vibe. The start/finish area is grassy and (last night anyway) nice and cool. The kids and I watched the start, then sipped some Max Muscle recovery drink samples and bought our dinner tickets while we waited for the runners to come back. We cheered in the winners, and then Hannes...and less than four minutes later Dan ran by! I had to restrain my son from chasing him. Then we waited for Dan and Hannes' other friend, Jim, and cheered him in, too.

Dan was really happy with his time given that he runs at most every other day and hasn't been specifically training. His 24:02 was good for 10th in the 40-49 male age group, and actually beat his second-to-last 5K, the 2007 Colder Bolder, which he ran in 24:07 (it was way off his 2008 Colder Bolder time of 22:42).

How was the course? The guys agreed it was mostly flat and had some nice dirt stretches, though the parts at the beginning and end featured a slight hill and were on pavement. The line for food was long, but there was plenty for both runners and spectators. Dan said later that he and Hannes will almost certainly want to do at least one more race in this series.

I, of course, think they should show up every week, but they are much more mellow than I am (and also not running-staved by injury). I'm also hoping Dan will consider doing the Bolder Boulder this year. Right now, he's saying he might. I think he'd forgotten how good the buzz after a good race feels!

Race Report: Snowman Stampede 5 Mile

Well, they say you can't win 'em all. They also say improving at distance running requires patience. And this mysterious relentless paternal "they" also say that you get what you need--which in my case was another notch or two down in my ego.

It's not that the Snowman Stampede 5 mile race today felt hard the whole way. It just felt blah. And every time I looked at my pace on the Garmin it looked blah from that vantage point, too. This was despite perfect chilly temperatures that warmed up to the 40s as the morning wore on, despite warm cheerful sunshine, despite hanging out with Kathy and her friend Melissa (they were doing the 10-mile race that followed the five-miler, too, for 15 miles total as part of their ramp-up for the Big Sur Marathon in April) and despite a flat fast course that I'd had a great time on a year ago in my own showing in the 10-miler.

Part of the problem is that I have a cold. It's not the worst cold ever, and it's not like I can complain, having gone through my entire 16-week training program for the Houston Marathon last month with nary a sniffle. Way better to get a cold now than then, or than four weeks from now when I'm ramping up for a half-marathon. But the cold was there, and it's given me stinky sleep for two nights in a row.

The other part of the problem (as is almost always true) were overly high expectations. I hear all the time about people "using their marathon endurance" to go out and set a personal record in a shorter distance a few weeks after the big one. I wanted that to be me, despite my back, the cold and the poor sleep. I should have known better. On one level, I did know better. But I ignored that little voice of practicality and hoped for the big PR anyway.

All of that, though, just sounds like a bunch of lame excuses. Here's how the race went:

Mile One: My plan was to go out at 8:24 (right around my pace in the Bolder Boulder 10K last year) and then gradually speed up as each mile went on. I executed part one of this plan perfectly--the first mile was done in 8:23. After that, not such a good job.

Mile Two: My legs just didn't speed up. Every time I looked at the watch it was 8:30-plus. I had looked at the elevation profile and this was the part of the course that was supposed to be on a modest downhill. I started to get worried. The Garmin says I did this mile in 8:30, but it must have been slower given my final time.

Mile Three: I felt a little better after the turnaround and some water. I wondered if maybe I hadn't hydrated well enough. Oh well. Too late now. Garmin says I did 8:17, but again I think that was clocking too fast.

Mile Four: In this mile, I actually felt kind of good. I started to pass a few people. Garmin says 8:18. But it was too late for doing really well in this race and I already knew it.

Mile Five: I found a kick and passed a few more people, my nose running like the Platte River the course followed. My back was hurting, I was already disappointed in my time and I just wanted to be finished. The Garmin says I ran this mile in 8:03. I don't believe it was that fast.

The official race results? 42:10 net time, a pace of 8:26/mile--WORSE than my Bolder Boulder pace from last May. I was seventh of 50 in my age group. I know I should be happy to be in the top 10 but........

.......Blah.

Since I know it's important find the good in these kinds of disappointments, here's what I can muster:

1) Except for mile one to mile two, my pace got faster as the race went on. It's a good thing when your last mile is the fastest.

2) I don't have another race until mid-April. Plenty of time to improve....and I will be well into physical therapy by then (yay dry needling! it starts on March 6), which hopefully will help my back and my ability to run fast.

3) I think I'll finally get some decent sleep tonight, cold or no.

4) I have four more races in the Spring of Speed. That's four more chances to do better than I did today.

Onward I go. I get knocked down but I get up again.

Race Report: Houston Marathon

I slept well the night before the Houston Marathon, images of the Olympic Trials races still spooling around in my head like a movie reel. Kathy and I set the alarm for 4:30 a.m. and 5 a.m. (just in case we had a hard time shaking off sleep—turns out we didn’t need the second alarm).

I took my accustomed pre-race shower and shaved my legs like I always do, being careful not to nick my ankles with the cheap disposable plastic razor I had brought (two days earlier I had skinned both ankles with that thing). We hung out in our hotel room until about 5:20. It was really nice to be staying so close to the convention center and starting line because we were able to take care of private business in our own clean flushing toilet.

We arrived at the convention center just in time for Mass. Mass was crowded—lots of Catholic runners in Houston, I guess. The priest, pointing skyward, called his homily “a brief word from our sponsor,” eliciting laughs from the nervous crowd. I couldn’t hear much of the rest of it because there was loud music echoing from somewhere else in the giant concrete space. They somehow managed to distribute communion to the crowd, and the service was over in a half-hour. We both realized we had to go to the bathroom again, so we went back to our hotel room (like I said, convenient!).

On the way back to the start area, I heard someone call my name—and there was my friend Jenne, who I know from library school!! It was so nice to see another friendly face! She had driven all the way down from Huntsville, where she is now a professor, to see me run. She was supposed to be in the 5K that morning, but hadn’t realized there was no race-day packet pick-up. But she came anyway just to cheer for me. The three of us worked our way into the steady river of runners exiting to the streets where the marathon and half-marathon starts were.

Jenne got a shot of Kathy and me pre-race. Yes, Jill, I used my Rock Canyon Half shirt as my throw-away!

I said good-bye to Jenne inside the convention center, and outside said good-bye to Kathy. My corral assignment was “A” (this was the case for everyone who predicted a sub-4 time). I was still clutching the bib in memory of Sherry Arnold that Caroline had sent me to wear on my back during the race. Jenne had located some safety pins, but there hadn’t been time to pin it inside. I saw Amanda, the other Boulderite with a press pass whom I’d met the prior day at the Trials finish line. She and her friend were headed to the half-marathon A corral. We chatted a bit about the Trials and then all wished each other luck. (I late found out Amanda ran her half in something like 1:26. Ah, Boulder!)

The scene at the entry to the A corral was a mob. I stood in the group for a while and chatted with two nice women, who pinned the bib on my back and asked me questions about Sherry. One of them turned out to be a reader of Beth’s. I think we all had a catch in our throats. But I left them because I really wanted to get into the A corral and find the 3:50 pacers. I wended my way through the crowd. Once I was actually inside the corral, things opened up. I found the pacers easily and hit the port-a-can one last time before the start (port-a-cans in the corral! Great idea!). Bill Rodgers and Frank Shorter both spoke over the PA system. Shorter called it “no excuses weather.” It was cool but not cold, maybe in the low 50s, with some cloud cover. Perfect indeed!

Through all of this, I felt stomach-clenchingly nervous. And when that gun went off, I cried a little, just to myself, thinking of the past year and of Sherry and of the Trials runners (especially Dathan Ritzenhein and his little girl) and of Jenne driving all that way and of everyone who sent me good wishes and of how I want to qualify for Boston. I knew today would be a good day, but I wasn't sure it would be Boston good and I was worried I would disappoint many people. It was such a relief to start running. It felt familiar and safe.

I had found the 3:50 pacers, but by using the bathroom that last time I had lost them again. I was OK with that because I wanted my first mile to be slower than they were planning to go. It turns out that in the first couple of miles I was behind the 4-hour pacers, too, because I passed both of them in miles three and four. I’m starting to be skeptical of pace groups. I had a great experience in New York 2005 with my pacer, but the groups in the Top of Utah Marathon started too fast, as did the groups in this race (I ended up passing the two 3:50 pacers in miles 22 and 25, too, even though my finishing time was three minutes slower than they were supposed to be posting). I know pacers are human, too, and anyone can have a bad day in a marathon, but still…..

The first few miles went quickly. The crowd support throughout the course was amazing, and there were lots of bands as well. My favorite, in the early miles in the Heights neighborhood, was playing some kind of bluegrassy gospel stuff that I would have stopped to listen to longer if it had been a different kind of day. My legs were feeling good—I noticed no talking from the ankle cuts, my left glute and hamstring or my calves as we ran past Rice University (my alma mater, where the Marching Owl Band, or MOB, was playing). The only physical issue I experienced the whole race was sore feet. I had been expecting that as it had happened on long runs too. It’s time to switch back to my prior shoe brand, Asics—I think they just work best for me.

Not sure where this was....

Soon after Rice, we entered the West University neighborhood where my aunt and my friends Colin and Mimi live. Colin and Mimi and their two daughters, it turns out, were the first friends I saw on the course. They were handing out oranges and bananas just after the half-marathon mark. Mimi called my name and I was rocketed out of my trance. I got a glimpse of her face and saw their two girls, then saw Colin a little way down. I’m sure I ran 10 seconds per mile faster for a long time after seeing them. It was a great boost (even though I didn’t take an orange, as their daughter Alexa pointed out to me later).

I was still feeling good along the stretch by Highway 59 and into the Galleria shopping area, but by mile 18 it was getting a little harder to hold my pace. I thought about the Top of Utah marathon, where I bonked hard at mile 18, and realized I felt nothing like that bad this time. I kept my legs churning and the doubts passed. It happened again around mile 20, and I told myself that moods and sensations change in the marathon. How you feel now isn’t necessarily how you’ll feel later in the race, even in the last crazy miles. It worked, and I kept on trucking.

Heading into Memorial Park, where many Houston-based runners train, I saw my friend Amy from Denver. She was in town visiting her brother and had made a sign for Kathy and me. I didn’t see her or it until she called my name (which I’m glad she did loudly because I’d put my headphones on as planned at mile 18). When I saw her, I inadvertently called out Kathy’s name, because I was reading the sign and because, well, I was in my trance again, but then I corrected myself and called out “Amy!” She snapped a photo of me, and I moved on, again having gotten a huge lift. No one’s ever made a sign with my name on it for a race before! Thanks, Amy!

Amy's wonderful sign! Just what you need around Mile 20!

Here's the pic Amy got.

Jenne was the next friend on the course. She had walked all the way from downtown to her spot at the entry to Allen Parkway, and she was working a shiny hula hoop. Again, a lift right when I needed one, and I felt ready to tackle the Allen Parkway hills. They aren’t really hills, just spots where the road dips under overpasses, but as many of you know, any incline in the last miles of a marathon feels like a mountain. So I prepared to bear down for them.

And you know what? They were over before I knew it, and….they weren’t that bad. I knew then that I could finish this race strong.

But I had one more happy surprise: my friend John! He and Rosann, his wife and also an old friend of mine, live near the early miles of the course, but didn’t put two and two together in time to see me go by at that point. So he had driven up to catch me at about mile 24. He told me later I looked much better than I did in my prior showing in this race in 1997, when he’d helped change my shoes in the freezing rain. It's always nice to hear, on the doorstep of your 39th birthday, that you're looking better at any moment than you did at almost 24! Seeing him gave me one more giant boost, and that along with the sight of downtown Houston’s buildings getting taller and taller and a slight cool breeze sent me sailing toward the finish.

The finish line was the same as the one for the Trials the day before. Its bleachers were lined with cheering spectators, and as I rounded the turn for the last tenth of a mile, I thought of Shalane Flanagan finishing her race the day before in that same spot with that grin on her face, and I broke out into my own huge smile. My Garmin put my finishing pace for that last bit at 7:50. I got my medal and had a finish photo taken before I headed into the convention center for a needed massage, some Honey Milk and an ice cream sandwich.

The final result? 3:53:28, a six-minute personal record good for 2,150th place overall out of 7,649 finishers (only 28% were ahead of me), 509^th woman (only 18% were ahead of me) and 95^th in my age group of 35-39 year-old women (again, only 18% ahead of me). Data from the race say that I finished ahead of 66% of male runners, and that in the last 4.5 miles I was passed by 29 people but passed 183.

Here are what my splits looked like:

In the end, I’m most proud of my relatively even pace throughout the whole race and that I never seriously considered walking or slowing appreciably (though I did slow after the 25K mark--will have to work on that!). This was true even when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to qualify for Boston. Because when I DO qualify for Boston, that steadiness will be a key skill set that will get me there. And I am glad I didn't give in to negative thoughts.

Race Report: Rock Canyon Half Marathon

Before the race--the snow was still coming down, the sky was gray, the road was icy! But we were there!

The night before the Rock Canyon Half Marathon (in Pueblo), I (in Boulder) called my friend Kathy at 6:30 p.m. and suggested maybe we should bag the race.

You see, Pueblo is a 2.5-hour journey from Boulder. A storm, complete with snow and 40-mph winds, followed by frigid temperatures, was the forecast for race morning. I'd had a long day with my kids, whose birthday party was scheduled in Boulder on Saturday 3.5 hours after the time I would probably finish this race. I knew if I missed my kids' party because I'd driven to Pueblo for a race in bad weather that I'd feel like a terrible parent.

I hadn't run that day. You know what that means: cranky pessimism triumphing briefly over my accustomed sunny outlook.

Since I put the picture up there, you know that ultimately I changed my mind and drove to Kathy's place. In her cozy Tahoe we made the rest of the drive down to Pueblo before the storm hit. By 10:30 we were fast asleep in our hotel room as planned. It was a risk. We decided if we awoke to weather that looked so horrible it would require hours to get home, we'd skip the race after all and set out first thing so I wouldn't miss the party.

The risk was still there in the morning. We both woke up well-rested between 6 and 6:15 and checked the weather. Kathy belongs to a tight running group, and her phone was full of texts from her buddies who had been turned back by the storm in the wee hours. But where we were, though the snow was falling, the wind wasn't horrible and the roads looked passable. We decided to race. Kathy agreed to pick up her running buddies' sweatshirts for them (this race offered comfy old-school sweatshirts instead of the now-ubiquitous tech tee--I love mine despite the men's size small). I called Jill, who was actually on her way with her son!

I took my requisite pre-race shower (and afterwards used the hair dryer, which I almost never do in bone-dry Colorado). We bundled up in our best cold-weather gear (not counting my hat, which is a hand-knit one not meant for racing at all; I couldn't find any of my running beanies on Friday) and set out to get our numbers and sweatshirts. That errand was accomplished quickly (after we found the park where the start and finish line were, passing a frightening looking accident on the slick streets on the way). We fueled up at Starbucks, then returned to wait for the 9 a.m. start in the Tahoe. One more bathroom trip, a quick meet-up with Jill (she and her son made it with about ten minutes to spare, so we didn't get a picture) and we were off!

Do you always hope for PRs? I do! Despite the conditions we observed driving over there, I was still fantasizing about a big half-marathon PR (I do like cold weather)....until we actually started running. The first two and a half miles were on park roads. They were flat but slick, basically ice on pavement. The wind, on the portion of the loop when it blew in our faces, was bitter and relentless. Kathy and I stuck together for most of this part. With the footing what it was, we didn't talk much. I watched my feet, which at least had warmed up quickly once we started.

Eventually we left the park and veered down to a paved trail that runs along the Arkansas River. I lost Kathy on a steep little downhill (I found out later she was developing a wind-induced headache that really slowed her down). The wind was fickle. Sometimes it seemed full-on in our faces, sometimes it seemed to be shoving us from behind. The whole thing was relatively flat, and the trail (which ultimately changed to gravel under snow) no longer slick, but I still couldn't muster much speed with that wind.

Not bad for Colorado! Too bad about the wind.

Jill had told me some serious Colorado trail runners needing an organized training run would come out for this one. And I figured some hard-core road runners might venture down from nearby Colorado Springs (very much like Boulder in its daunting running scene). Sure enough, with about three miles to go to the turnaround for me, the frontrunners met us coming the other way. A guy behind me counted out their placement so they could hear him: "Twelfth.....thirteenth....fourteenth...."

I caught up with Jill on a weird little bridge on the loop by Pueblo Dam that finally turned us around near mile 8 (thank you for wearing the bright pink jacket, Jill!). She asked me how I was feeling and I said I wasn't sure. (What I meant was, I wasn't as miserable as I know I could have been, but I also wasn't running as fast as I'd hoped. Hence, the uncertainty.) I was about to ask her the same question when suddenly we felt the bridge bouncing underneath us. It's a disorienting feeling when you've got a rhythm going. We came upon an aid station right after that, and I moved ahead of her. I wondered how Kathy was doing.

The wind was less intense at this point. I had turned on my iPod at mile 6.5. An old favorite ("Goody Two Shoes") and two new-to-me songs came on (both by Pitbull: "Shake Senora" and "Give Me Everything"). This put something that passed for a spring in my step. I managed to pick up the pace just a little. At that point, I hoped to finish this beast under 2 hours, but even that wasn't to be. My final time was 2:01:16, average pace 9:05 miles, good for 19th out of 56 in my age group and 254th out of 558 runners (750 had registered, selling the race out, which gives you an idea of the number of no-shows in that weather).

At the finish line, I tried to wait for Jill and Kathy to cheer them in, but I was too cold. I headed for the Tahoe, sponged off with some antibacterial wipes I had in my purse, changed into my party clothes (yoga pants and the race sweatshirt) and was about to go looking for them again when Kathy arrived. She'd finished slower than she wanted to as well, but was feeling good again. Very quickly we were on the road, Christmas tunes pumping, and in the end I made it to the party in Boulder with 10 minutes to spare. I traded some texts with Jill, who was hilarious about the race and how miserable it was (what she didn't mention was that she finished 8th in her age group--may I please have her base in ten years?! the woman's an animal).

I am really grateful to the brave volunteers and race organizers who turned out for this icy race. I definitely plan to send them a big thank-you email. My biggest thanks go to Kathy!! She's always up for an adventure, she's a great driver (not too fast or slow in whatever conditions) and she didn't mind skipping the post-race festivities to get me back north in time for the party. She earned her baking and her time by the fire that night, in more ways than one. I'm so glad that she'll be my roommate in Houston too.....in just six weeks!

Race Report: Longmont Turkey Trot 10K

I woke up this morning wanting to see a 10K time that starts with a 4, but when I heard the wind (one of those autumn gales rushing down the mountains from the west) I knew it probably wasn't to be. In racing, you take what you get as far as weather goes. In the end, I set a slight PR for both my pre- and post-kids self (50:55, down from 51:42 set at sea level in 2004). Plus I really enjoyed the course, wind and all. So it wasn't a bad day at all!

Finishing with a smile! It was great to have my husband and kids with me at this race.

Here are the details.

Pre-Race: The race wasn't until 9, so I didn't set an alarm and woke from a great sleep at 6:45. My kids got up soon after, I got them breakfast and then ate my own--dry Cheerios, about six ounces of OJ and a banana. I also had several glasses of water and one glass of Ultima, an electrolyte drink I can tolerate because it's sweetened with stevia rather than sorbitol or tons of sugar.

I also took a shower. I've mentioned before that I'm not much of a girly-girl, but I do like shaved legs under my capris and clean hair when I race. Then I put on my race outfit: capris and a short-sleeved neon-green race shirt from last summer's Heart and Sole Half that my daughter Ruthie picked out (Ruthie, by the way, is MUCH better; she even went to the dentist yesterday and did great during her cleaning; the mouth sores are still there, but healing; thanks to everyone who wished her well).

I wasn't sure about this shirt. I don't like to stick out in races in any way. But what do you say to your almost-five-year-old who is coming out to watch you run six miles in the wind when she wants you to wear a certain shirt? You don't say no! And it turns out it was a good shirt. My husband and kids were able to spot me coming in to the finish wayyyyy before I got there--I could hear Dan yelling from a half-mile away! Also, another runner complimented me on it as we ran together briefly in Mile 5. We agreed there was no way I would be hit by a car. When I saw her later after the finish she said she had used me as her rabbit, watching my shirt ahead of her like a flag.

Dan saw the shirt from a long way off.

The Race: We got there too late for me to warm up. I hit the bathroom and went straight to the start with only about two minutes to spare. While waiting in line, I ate a pack of Black Cherry Shot Bloks. I figured a little more sugar and some caffeine wouldn't hurt. I was a little chilly at first, but despite the wind the sun was warm and there's no shade on this course, so I figured I'd be OK.

The first three miles were the windy ones. Miles 1 and 3 were straight into the north/northwest wind. Mile 2 featured the only hill of the pancake-flat course. These things are reflected in my times for these miles. I was trying to hold back a bit, knowing the weather wasn't favorable and that I would still have half the course to go when we finally got out of the wind. I paid a lot of attention to my breathing: four steps for every inhale/exhale cycle. It was nice and controlled.

Mile 1--8:17
Mile 2--8:14
Mile 3--8:19

Then we turned east. Boy, turning out of the wind helps!

Mile 4--7:56
Mile 5--7:54
Mile 6--7:54

We had to go west again for most of Mile 6, but you know how it is when you're almost done. You can hammer a bit and be OK. I'm proud that Mile 6 was as fast as Mile 5. And I'm proud that I found a kick for the last quarter mile, though I'm sure having Dan and the kids cheering for me had as much to do with that as any ability of mine.

Last .2--7:00 pace

Finding a finish kick--I couldn't quite catch the girl in red, but she and I passed two other women just ahead of the mat!

The times may be off because the Garmin never matches the actual time. But I was much closer on the watch and the official time than I usually am, so I must have done better with the tangents than in the past.

My only real disappointment was that the finish line clock said 49:04 when I crossed the mat. I thought I had done sub-50, only to find out that was the clock for the concurrent two-mile race. Fortunately I found this out quickly, had about a 30-second sulk and then cheered up again. You can't argue with a PR of any kind in the wind. Dan also helped (as always): he said he thought a 10K PR seven years and two kids after my prior one was really awesome.

The Lessons:

Good Things (besides the new PR):
1. I paced myself almost perfectly. Now I know I can handle the tempo and race pace runs I have coming.
2. I didn't let adverse weather get me down. You get what you get with weather. No whining.
3. I felt good the whole way. I was definitely done at the end, but I am not sore and know I can hit the ground running with training again this week.
4. This was an awesome field, especially for us double-X chromosome types. The women's winner, Nuta Olaru, finished a mere three seconds behind the 18-year-old top male (he ran 35:11, she ran 35:14!). Dan said it was an amazing finish, that she *almost* caught him. Olaru and five others among the top ten finishers were in their 40s (Colleen DeReuck, one of my favorite local Olympians, was sixth and top female master); the man who finished 8th was 50 years old. (Running) life does NOT end at forty. I was honored to be 11th out of 58 women in the 35-39 age group (my group's winner ran 39:17), 50th out of 298 women and 173rd out of 555 overall.
5. I can run without music! Turns out I probably didn't need to (lots of folks were running with music), but the official rules for this race said no headphones and I'm a rule-follower. This was a good confidence-builder for sure. While I have no plans to ditch my iPod, it's great to know I can run well without it.

Bad Things
I can think of really only one negative thing about this race (besides the sub-50 continuing to be elusive): This time doesn't indicate a readiness to run my BQ time in a marathon. My McMillan running calculator paces for my Houston training will stay about the same after this race. I was hoping to be able to run my training efforts a little faster.

Like I said, though....no whining. Just gotta keep on doing the work.

Race Report: Top of Utah Marathon

When the hail started, all I could do was laugh. Right there at mile nine or ten of the Top of Utah Marathon, the walls of Blacksmith Fork Canyon rearing up on both sides of me like castle ramparts, the smell of the early fall trees in the air, the sound of my fellow runners' feet smack-sloshing the road around me. I laughed. My nose was running faster than I was, and I was running too fast. Next to me was a guy from New Mexico.

I told him, "This is what I wanted to happen during some of those hot summer training runs, but it never did."

He said he had done some long ones in 100 degree weather and dreamed of rain.

We both laughed again. And down came those pea-sized ice chunks and chilly needles of water.

It wasn't the end of the nutty weather, or the beginning. The first dousing rain had fallen on us at the start. We stood in the inky-black pre-dawn porta-john line, wearing the ill-fitting sweats we'd eventually toss away. At one point, after I had said goodbye to Erin and Alana, I stood with a bunch of other runners under the inflatable starting line gate. After my sweats got thoroughly sodden, I cast them off. They weren't doing me any good.

At other times during the race, thunder and lightning creased the sky, seeming right over our heads. After I emerged from the canyon and into town, about mile 14 or 15, I saw a horse in a meadow, an Appaloosa-looking fellow. He cantered nervously, beautiful in his contained energy. I think the thunder had spooked him. In that euphoric moment, I imagined myself drawing on his animal power. I thought I might actually do it. I thought I might qualify for Boston.

But I should have known it wasn't to be. The night before, at the expo, I had talked to the pace group leaders for the 3:40 and the 3:50 marathoners. They agreed that runners in this race, unlike most marathons, needed to bank time in the first half. Once the downhill ends (somewhere around mile 18), a lot of people slow way down, they said. The 3:40 guy said he planned to set 8 minute flat miles in the first part.

Thinking I was being conservative, I lined up with the 8:50 group. When I found myself keeping up with them for the first three miles despite a pace in the 8-teens and 8:20s, I went with it instead of being sensible.

I hurtled down that canyon.

Mile 1--8:29
Mile 2--8:11 (at one point in this mile, my Garmin said 7:36--ack!)
Mile 3--8:15
Mile 4--8:28 (the pace group got way ahead of me)
Mile 5--8:28
Mile 6--8:44
Mile 7--8:38
Mile 8--8:27
Mile 9--8:35
Mile 10--8:53 (this is probably where I should have been the whole time)
Mile 11--8:30
Mile 12--8:28
Mile 13--8:31

I ran a half-marathon PR of 1:51:50 in this race. Great. Except this wasn't a half-marathon.

Mile 14--8:34
Mile 15--8:21
Mile 16--8:40
Mile 17--8:31
Mile 18--8:54

And somewhere in that mile 18, the bonk came. They say it comes at Mile 20. For me, it was two miles early. There was a little hill there, but it was gradual, nothing really as hills go. Nonetheless, to me it was like someone had turned me around and asked me to run back up that canyon.

Mile 19--9:30
Mile 20--10:03

Somewhere in the 21st mile, my buddy from New Mexico, whom I'd lost at a water station somewhere, caught me. "I've been trying to get you for five miles!" he said. He looked great, his stride steady. I tried to stay with him.

Mile 21--9:14

But it didn't last. My lungs and heart still felt great, but my legs--quads and hamstrings--were as achy as I ever remember them being. It was then that I walked. A lot. I watched the window for BQ'ing recede and pass.

Mile 22--10:36
Mile 23--11:10
Mile 24--10:36

When I realized I had only two miles to go, I decided that if I couldn't get the BQ, I needed the sub-4. I knew it would be tough on those legs. But I wanted to salvage this race and be happy at the end. So I pushed (or what counts for pushing at that point!).

Mile 25--9:41

In this mile, a jubilant man in green passed me. "I've just gotta stay ahead of those damn balloons," he was saying to the woman next to him. "Don't they stress you out???" she replied. I knew they were talking about the 4-hour pacers' balloons.

Mile 26--9:40

The 4-hour pacers with their balloons passed me. One of the balloons had popped and hung, deflated, from the stick as its porter bobbed along. I felt like that balloon.

But I kept my eye on the Garmin. It said I was still OK. I rounded a corner and there was the finish line, a tenth of a mile down. I bore down. The 4-hour guys were dancing just ahead of the line, waiting to cross it when it turned 4 hours on the dot. I sprinted (or what counts for sprinting at that point!). I got there ahead of them.

Last Point-2--8:35 pace (ironically, this is my bare minimum BQ pace)

Final result: 3:59:11

I had done it. Despite not sticking to a reasonable race plan, despite bonking, despite rain and hail and lightning, despite walking, I beat four hours. My previous best time, in New York City 2005 at age 32, was 4:13:58. My first marathon, in Houston 1997 at age 24, was 5:00:26.

Best of all, I was happy. I had redeemed a race that could have left me miserable and discouraged. Redemption is what running is all about for me.

Good things about this race:

1. NO POTTY STOPS!! My "fueling" pre-race was perfect. I stuck to my guns and avoided fiber, dairy and heavy baked goods (and most other sweets) in the three days ahead of the race. The day before I had hard-boiled eggs, bananas, salty pretzels (thanks for this tip, Jill!), a turkey-tomato-mustard sandwich on a white salt bagel, Gatorade and the pre-race pasta meal of pasta with vegetarian red sauce, a white roll and salad. Race morning, I ate a hard-boiled egg and some dry Frosted Flakes and drank a cup of coffee. I had Cliff Shot Blocks every four miles during the race until the last six miles when I didn't bother. I had water and Gatorade at every aid station. It worked. I'll do it again just that way for Houston.

2. I was able to set a personal record even with a bonk. I'm now only 15 minutes shy of my BQ time. I think I can do it in Houston with good training and the willpower to stick to a race plan even when the talk around me suggests I do something else.

3. The weather! I love cold weather. I don't mind rain. Even hail is OK if it's short (and it did help that we had patches of sun during the race's second half and at the finish line). I'm hoping it will be nice and cool in Houston in January. I really do believe that heat takes a lot off your time. Expectations will need to be revised downward if heat is an issue.

4. Hanging out with Erin and Alana before and after the race. Especially after! Who doesn't love a celebratory lunch involving Mexican food and three women who got PRs?

Bad things about this race for me (the ones that were mostly out of my control):

1. I had to drive to get there and didn't study Interstate 80 in southern Wyoming well enough. I ended up driving way longer on Thursday night than I meant to because there was nowhere to stay between Laramie and Rawlins. Then, when I got to Rawlins at 11:30 p.m., the nicer hotels were completely full with itinerant refinery workers. I stayed in dumpy place, the kind with a musty cigarette smell, bare bulbs, peeling plaster and a curtain safety-pinned over a rickety wall-unit A/C. I slept terribly, worried the whole time about bedbugs and fleas (fortunately not an issue).

2. My cold didn't clear up before the race. Fortunately, it's just a little cold and it never entered my chest--I don't think it was a factor (at least not a major one) in my Fail. But it added a layer of stress and uncertainty to my entire taper week and interfered with my sleep.

3. I had to walk a lot in those last miles. I wouldn't care if walking had been part of my plan. But it wasn't.

This race reminds me a lot of my Boulder Spring Half last March (though for that race I had a cold that was much worse than this one). I ran too fast and bonked, but still set a PR (albeit not as much of a PR as I wanted at the time). After that, I overcame those mistakes in my next half marathon (the ZOOMA Women's Half), finishing strong and beating my PR again despite heat. That's what I will seek to do in Houston (minus the heat part, I hope).

My goals for Houston, therefore, are simple:

1. Stick to my race plan.
2. Finish strong--no going too fast.
3. BQ (the end for which all these other things are the means)

Oh--and because as usual I was CRAP at taking pictures and Fast Cory was AWESOME at taking them (and really you should see this gorgeous place), here's a link to his race report (PR for him too-Yay Cory!).