So, there tends to be a mix of pride and arrogance-tinged embarrassment when I tell people I'm running a marathon as a training run. On the one hand, running a marathon as a training run implies a great deal of hard work and a goal beyond the mythical twenty-six-point-two. On the other hand, it just smacks of arrogance and, for that, I feel self-conscious and embarrassed. However reality shakes out on how the comment is perceived, this was the case for my second stab at the Austin Marathon this year.
Treating a long distance race as a training run has distinct advantages. You can test week-prior, day-prior, and mid-race fueling to an incredible degree. You can evaluate strategies on a macro-scale, rather than micro. And, if you've run the training race before, you can learn from prior lessons. I took advantage of each of these with the Austin Marathon, and it paid off well.
As for the week-prior and day-prior fueling and nutrition, I focused on variety in carbs, protein, and fresh fruits and vegetables. I dialed down some of the easier carbs (e.g., fresh fruit) later in the week and focused on some more complex carbs in vegetables and less-commonly thought of sources. However, Saturday was nothing but carbs: oatmeal, English muffin, Subway sandwich, chia seed bread sandwich, melon, apples, pears, and cookies. It was a "topping off" of the more subtle carb loading the week prior. I won't lie: I was dizzy with the sugar rush during the day, especially in the final meal with the fruit and cookies. It was interesting. Thankfully, despite the sugar, I was able to sleep well, save for the typical multiple trips to the bathroom to account for the hydration. Four thirty in the morning came and I woke up well-rested, sufficiently energized from sleep and food, and ready to race. It was interesting: I felt evenly fueled rather than jittery. I briefly thought about caffeine, but decided against it.
As for the lessons from last year, I knew I needed to pay more attention to my body and my perceived effort. Austin can be a fast race, but you have to play it conservative for nearly twenty miles.
Ben insisted on running with me, which made me nervous for a few reasons. First, longer runs with me are difficult for him because my pace is that much slower than his. This wreaks havoc on his knees and endurance because his body is trained to handle the distance at a different pace, drawing fuel from his blood and stores at different rates. Second, knowing he runs faster than me often leads me to run faster so I'm not boring him with my turtle pace. He knows of both of these, so it wasn't surprising when I told him I'd be running my race; if he really did want to run with me, he would have to be comfortable slowing down when I felt like I need to do so. He seemed fine with it, which I was grateful for. I was looking forward to running with him, but didn't want it to be a miserable race for him either.
So, with that food and pace background, off we went to the start line. We decided to seed somewhere between 3:45 and 4:00. I hadn't put much thought into my finish time, but decided I wanted a sub-4:00 finish.
Off goes the gun and so begins our shuffle to the start line. We kept up with a good clip to start the race with some good excitement. I kept an eye on my pace and perceived effort, knowing a great race can be lost in the first mile or two if pace isn't respected. However, when I glanced at my watch at the first mile and saw a solid 10:00, I was nervous. I felt like I was running too fast, but ten minute mile?! It wasn't possible. I decided to put it out of my mind and just run.
We soon turned on to Guadalupe, which has a quick downhill. I played it conservative, not wanting to blow whatever pace it was that I was holding and burn through too much energy and enthusiasm; I knew the later miles of the race would reward me if I was patient in getting to them. We whipped on to Cesar and hooked it on to South Congress for the trek to Highway 71. The crowd of runners was overwhelming and we focused on getting to the full-half split without smacking someone. Then I cooled my jets because I realized, in all actuality, there was someone behind me who wanted to smack me, too. Oops. Sorry friends.
We hooked around on 71 to head back toward downtown on South First. South First can be another trap for the unweary with some fast downhills closer to downtown. This course is so incredible and hits so many wonderful parts of Austin, it's difficult not to get carried away and let the excitement lead to faster paces. This was around the fourth or fifth time I turned to Ben, "Let's pull back just a bit. Okay, this is good." I had no idea what my pace was.
Thankfully, Ben knows not to let me know how fast--or slow--we actually are running. I have a very simple running watch: start, stop, reset. I don't like to know my pace, because then I start doing math in my head. Things go awry. It isn't pretty.
As we rounded mile nine, I was more curious to see how Freescale would handle the infamous LIVESTRONG Yellow Mile (Freescale just recently took over the Austin Marathon from the LIVESTRONG Foundation). They were handing out Gatorade chews or something, but it wasn't as enthusiastic as the Yellow Mile. Regardless, spectators always are incredible human beings, so it was more appreciated than ever!
With that, we made the quiet climb up, over, and under Mopac toward the half-full split. I was looking forward to some more space on the road, some quiet miles, and the halfway mark. It thins out remarkably after the split, naturally, and allows the runners manage their race more easily. This was the case today, thankfully.
However, the split also brings it with it the rolling hills of Tarrytown. "Run by perceived effort," I remindedBen myself. There was no need to blast up and down these hills without having run half the race yet. We rolled through the hills and soon were crossing back over Mopac for "the back nine" (Okay, back six-ish), as I like to call them. These middle miles of any marathon tend to be the least populated with spectators and bowls of orange slices. They are quiet. They are dark. They are at the far edges of town. And they are where the WALL resides.
Well, I decided I didn't have much time for the Wall this year. I was having a decent race, keeping a good pace, and managed to get my paws on some orange slices. So, around mile 21 or 22, I shouted out to the rest of my comrades: "Come on Runners! This isn't the Wall, it's a GATE!" I got a few chuckles, but the real benefit was to myself. I realized I was getting so much strength from humor, smiling, and responding to spectator signs and comments. Keeping a sense of humor is incredible and so uplifting at later stages, it appears!
I began reminiscing about this part of the course last year. Last year, my knees were aching, my heart was pounding, I was beyond dehydrated, and I was disoriented. I pulled over at one point and nearly folded over to the ground from it all. I didn't have a great race that year, despite getting a finish. It wasn't pretty. I'm sure I'd been doing math, too. Just awful.
This year, I wasn't running on a cloud, but I was pounding out the miles with resolve and, quite frankly, gumption. I chose against more water or oranges, as my stomach was sloshing and quite acidic, but I had a LARA bar in my back pocket should things get hairy.
They didn't.
Somehow, the final 10K of the marathon flew by with little comment. We looped through Allandale, down North Loop, and finally right on Duval. Duval: that final stretch of the typical Austin race. Down, down, down Duval. Ticking off the numbered blocks: 45th…38th…35th…32nd…30th…DEAN KEETON. On down past DKR and the Alumnae Center, with an extended throwing of the Horns as we passed the Texas Wranglers (*swoon*), loop't around to deposit one onto San Jacinto. Good ole SanJac, you jerk of a clever character, you! That's where you see the final turn to the final down hill to the final timing mat: the finish line. Before you get to the final turn to the final down hill to the final timing mat, however, you see two bumps. These are hills. Twenty five miles ago, they would've been laughable. Now, however, they are gut wrenching.
This is the point in any run when Ben and I stop talking to one another and we connect on this really strange level about who steps where and who sidesteps what and who jumps off the curb for a moment and how close we take that turn or are we skipping over the railroad tracks? Or shuffling? Gotcha, let's get it done: head down, shoulders back, get it done, honey. Oh, and what's for breakfast?
That was us today. We caught a (fifth?!) glimpse of Misha and Kelsey at about 800 meters to go. Their sign offered extra power if I hit a specified spot on the sign, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Turns out I didn't have quite enough energy to do that, but I suppose it turned out alright.
Those hills, though, they were staring us down, chuckling to one another: "Look at these fools!," they guffawed! One foot in front of the other; that much less enthusiasm in my fist pump at the mention of "Go Team Kate!" But closer we were getting and, finally, we were at the top of the final hill and making the second to final turn.
At that point, we heard our names called out by Haleigh & Co., a dear running friend of mine. This was just the final kick we needed. We saw two or three runners in front of us making the final turn. This was it.
I turned to Ben, nodded toward the outside, and we made the pass. Our elbows took a 90-degree angle; our hands became flat and aerodynamic; our cadence doubled. There it was: the finish line of our first marathon run together. As I got closer, I saw that we were just under 4:00, which gave me a smile. I was exhausted and my hips were sore from the effort, but I was still proud of the finish.
We turned to one another, kissed a sweaty and salty kiss, hugged, and got the heck out of the way. Ben casually says: "We're just shy of my PR." Come again, I say? I realize I hadn't even looked at my watch time and, of course, clock time is fairly inaccurate for official time. My watch: 3:45:27. I couldn't believe it! I couldn't have expected that time on the best of days, and that certainly didn't feel like today. It was a hard fought run and well run, but it didn't feel like a 3:45!
I'm still reeling from the finish and now understanding why everything hurts so very much. We're both in awe of the day and know this will be a great start ago our 2014 race season.
Lessons for Me to Remember: Keep it conservative and run by effort; taking a peak at the course and elevation profile at least the night before isn't a terrible idea either. Listen to your body and what you actually need, not what your plan or that magazine tells you. Eat a variety of carbs and proteins early in the week prior and eat carbs the day of; this remains the extended carb-loading that is suggested, with a "top off" twist that seemed to work very well for me. Run with your husband.
Great race, great day, and great people. We can't wait for next year!
Austin Marathon
3:49:06
Age Group: 38th (of 291)
Overall: 620th (of 3,593)
Gender: 128 (of 1,407)
Treating a long distance race as a training run has distinct advantages. You can test week-prior, day-prior, and mid-race fueling to an incredible degree. You can evaluate strategies on a macro-scale, rather than micro. And, if you've run the training race before, you can learn from prior lessons. I took advantage of each of these with the Austin Marathon, and it paid off well.
As for the week-prior and day-prior fueling and nutrition, I focused on variety in carbs, protein, and fresh fruits and vegetables. I dialed down some of the easier carbs (e.g., fresh fruit) later in the week and focused on some more complex carbs in vegetables and less-commonly thought of sources. However, Saturday was nothing but carbs: oatmeal, English muffin, Subway sandwich, chia seed bread sandwich, melon, apples, pears, and cookies. It was a "topping off" of the more subtle carb loading the week prior. I won't lie: I was dizzy with the sugar rush during the day, especially in the final meal with the fruit and cookies. It was interesting. Thankfully, despite the sugar, I was able to sleep well, save for the typical multiple trips to the bathroom to account for the hydration. Four thirty in the morning came and I woke up well-rested, sufficiently energized from sleep and food, and ready to race. It was interesting: I felt evenly fueled rather than jittery. I briefly thought about caffeine, but decided against it.
As for the lessons from last year, I knew I needed to pay more attention to my body and my perceived effort. Austin can be a fast race, but you have to play it conservative for nearly twenty miles.
Ben insisted on running with me, which made me nervous for a few reasons. First, longer runs with me are difficult for him because my pace is that much slower than his. This wreaks havoc on his knees and endurance because his body is trained to handle the distance at a different pace, drawing fuel from his blood and stores at different rates. Second, knowing he runs faster than me often leads me to run faster so I'm not boring him with my turtle pace. He knows of both of these, so it wasn't surprising when I told him I'd be running my race; if he really did want to run with me, he would have to be comfortable slowing down when I felt like I need to do so. He seemed fine with it, which I was grateful for. I was looking forward to running with him, but didn't want it to be a miserable race for him either.
So, with that food and pace background, off we went to the start line. We decided to seed somewhere between 3:45 and 4:00. I hadn't put much thought into my finish time, but decided I wanted a sub-4:00 finish.
Off goes the gun and so begins our shuffle to the start line. We kept up with a good clip to start the race with some good excitement. I kept an eye on my pace and perceived effort, knowing a great race can be lost in the first mile or two if pace isn't respected. However, when I glanced at my watch at the first mile and saw a solid 10:00, I was nervous. I felt like I was running too fast, but ten minute mile?! It wasn't possible. I decided to put it out of my mind and just run.
We soon turned on to Guadalupe, which has a quick downhill. I played it conservative, not wanting to blow whatever pace it was that I was holding and burn through too much energy and enthusiasm; I knew the later miles of the race would reward me if I was patient in getting to them. We whipped on to Cesar and hooked it on to South Congress for the trek to Highway 71. The crowd of runners was overwhelming and we focused on getting to the full-half split without smacking someone. Then I cooled my jets because I realized, in all actuality, there was someone behind me who wanted to smack me, too. Oops. Sorry friends.
We hooked around on 71 to head back toward downtown on South First. South First can be another trap for the unweary with some fast downhills closer to downtown. This course is so incredible and hits so many wonderful parts of Austin, it's difficult not to get carried away and let the excitement lead to faster paces. This was around the fourth or fifth time I turned to Ben, "Let's pull back just a bit. Okay, this is good." I had no idea what my pace was.
Thankfully, Ben knows not to let me know how fast--or slow--we actually are running. I have a very simple running watch: start, stop, reset. I don't like to know my pace, because then I start doing math in my head. Things go awry. It isn't pretty.
As we rounded mile nine, I was more curious to see how Freescale would handle the infamous LIVESTRONG Yellow Mile (Freescale just recently took over the Austin Marathon from the LIVESTRONG Foundation). They were handing out Gatorade chews or something, but it wasn't as enthusiastic as the Yellow Mile. Regardless, spectators always are incredible human beings, so it was more appreciated than ever!
With that, we made the quiet climb up, over, and under Mopac toward the half-full split. I was looking forward to some more space on the road, some quiet miles, and the halfway mark. It thins out remarkably after the split, naturally, and allows the runners manage their race more easily. This was the case today, thankfully.
However, the split also brings it with it the rolling hills of Tarrytown. "Run by perceived effort," I reminded
Well, I decided I didn't have much time for the Wall this year. I was having a decent race, keeping a good pace, and managed to get my paws on some orange slices. So, around mile 21 or 22, I shouted out to the rest of my comrades: "Come on Runners! This isn't the Wall, it's a GATE!" I got a few chuckles, but the real benefit was to myself. I realized I was getting so much strength from humor, smiling, and responding to spectator signs and comments. Keeping a sense of humor is incredible and so uplifting at later stages, it appears!
I began reminiscing about this part of the course last year. Last year, my knees were aching, my heart was pounding, I was beyond dehydrated, and I was disoriented. I pulled over at one point and nearly folded over to the ground from it all. I didn't have a great race that year, despite getting a finish. It wasn't pretty. I'm sure I'd been doing math, too. Just awful.
This year, I wasn't running on a cloud, but I was pounding out the miles with resolve and, quite frankly, gumption. I chose against more water or oranges, as my stomach was sloshing and quite acidic, but I had a LARA bar in my back pocket should things get hairy.
They didn't.
Somehow, the final 10K of the marathon flew by with little comment. We looped through Allandale, down North Loop, and finally right on Duval. Duval: that final stretch of the typical Austin race. Down, down, down Duval. Ticking off the numbered blocks: 45th…38th…35th…32nd…30th…DEAN KEETON. On down past DKR and the Alumnae Center, with an extended throwing of the Horns as we passed the Texas Wranglers (*swoon*), loop't around to deposit one onto San Jacinto. Good ole SanJac, you jerk of a clever character, you! That's where you see the final turn to the final down hill to the final timing mat: the finish line. Before you get to the final turn to the final down hill to the final timing mat, however, you see two bumps. These are hills. Twenty five miles ago, they would've been laughable. Now, however, they are gut wrenching.
This is the point in any run when Ben and I stop talking to one another and we connect on this really strange level about who steps where and who sidesteps what and who jumps off the curb for a moment and how close we take that turn or are we skipping over the railroad tracks? Or shuffling? Gotcha, let's get it done: head down, shoulders back, get it done, honey. Oh, and what's for breakfast?
That was us today. We caught a (fifth?!) glimpse of Misha and Kelsey at about 800 meters to go. Their sign offered extra power if I hit a specified spot on the sign, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Turns out I didn't have quite enough energy to do that, but I suppose it turned out alright.
Those hills, though, they were staring us down, chuckling to one another: "Look at these fools!," they guffawed! One foot in front of the other; that much less enthusiasm in my fist pump at the mention of "Go Team Kate!" But closer we were getting and, finally, we were at the top of the final hill and making the second to final turn.
At that point, we heard our names called out by Haleigh & Co., a dear running friend of mine. This was just the final kick we needed. We saw two or three runners in front of us making the final turn. This was it.
I turned to Ben, nodded toward the outside, and we made the pass. Our elbows took a 90-degree angle; our hands became flat and aerodynamic; our cadence doubled. There it was: the finish line of our first marathon run together. As I got closer, I saw that we were just under 4:00, which gave me a smile. I was exhausted and my hips were sore from the effort, but I was still proud of the finish.
We turned to one another, kissed a sweaty and salty kiss, hugged, and got the heck out of the way. Ben casually says: "We're just shy of my PR." Come again, I say? I realize I hadn't even looked at my watch time and, of course, clock time is fairly inaccurate for official time. My watch: 3:45:27. I couldn't believe it! I couldn't have expected that time on the best of days, and that certainly didn't feel like today. It was a hard fought run and well run, but it didn't feel like a 3:45!
I'm still reeling from the finish and now understanding why everything hurts so very much. We're both in awe of the day and know this will be a great start ago our 2014 race season.
Lessons for Me to Remember: Keep it conservative and run by effort; taking a peak at the course and elevation profile at least the night before isn't a terrible idea either. Listen to your body and what you actually need, not what your plan or that magazine tells you. Eat a variety of carbs and proteins early in the week prior and eat carbs the day of; this remains the extended carb-loading that is suggested, with a "top off" twist that seemed to work very well for me. Run with your husband.
Great race, great day, and great people. We can't wait for next year!
Austin Marathon
3:49:06
Age Group: 38th (of 291)
Overall: 620th (of 3,593)
Gender: 128 (of 1,407)
