Better than yesterday
Cool Runner |
 posted Jun-03-2007 10:44 AM
  
This is one of the hardest (not to mention the longest) race reports I've ever written. Surely it's difficult to write because it's not a race, so there's nothing interesting in here for anyone looking for the ups and downs of a race, splits (negative or otherwise) or anything of that nature. Also, because I tend to be good at relating the facts, but struggle with getting my emotions and feelings in print. What is TMI, and what is neccessary in a report like this?June 2, 2007. I spent the morning and afternoon tring to find light lawnwork and touch-up painting to do to keep myself occupied. It was a hot and muggy day - around 90F by Noon (last time I checked until the evening) and I found myself on a step ladder, pulling those annoying silver-maple helicopters out of my roof gutter - I filled an entire large brown lawn refuse bag with seeds from one stretch of the front gutter alone!!! Oy vay! A little painting at the back of the house (get in the shade, stupid), lots of water, and the rest of the day was spent raking those pernicious seeds and accumulated thatch out of the front lawn. I think I overdid it for a race day  . Thunderstorms blew through the area in the late afternoon but had moved on out by 5:30. I was planning to run my 13.1 mile tribute to my dad between 8:00 and 10:00 PM, but with the cooler temperatures that the storms brought, I decided wouldn't have to wait that long. Then I remembered that I didn't have a watch, and since it might be nice to know my time  , I drove off to the local Wally'sWorld to pick up a $4.68 stopwatch. By the time I was at the track, there were maybe a hundred walkers, and temps had dropped to around 80F, but the humidity had not really lifted. On the bright side, the sun was behind clouds, so that was not a factor. I decided to go ahead and start running with essentially zero prep (how do you prepare for a half? I dunno). Actually, I did walk around the track one time, just to get the feel and get the HR up a little. Most of you know what the Relay for Life is, so I won't go into too much detail on that. If you don't know and want to find out more, just Google "Relay for Life" and you'll probably find there's one near you. I had committed to run this RFL as a marathon this year to honor the memory of my dad, Bob Dollard. He died of asbestos cancer 10 years ago this summer. Unfortunately, the wheels sort of fell off of my training program just before Easter, when I ran my first 16 mile training run, and could not run for several days after that. Shortly after Easter, I came down with an intestinal virus, and it was a full two weeks before I put the running shoes back on. I was in no shape to pick up where I left off, so I chose to scrap the plans for the marathon, and prepare instead for a half, plus go ahead and run all of the 5k races and the Memorial Day 15k I had previously tabled for this spring. My only goal for this half was to run it in under 2:00:00. Last year's time at the same event was around 2:04:00, and I felt I had trained well enough this year to take quite a few minutes off of that time. In fact I hit the halfway point at 59:24, checked my HR and found it was just 130 bpm, and knew I had plenty left to pick it up and bring it in well under 2:00. Around mile 8 I needed a 1/2 of a banana as I felt things starting to cramp a little - that seemed to do the trick, and I was running comfortably again in almost no time. However, in hindsight I realize that even though I was drinking water at several points, I wasn't drinking often enough for the heat and humidity. I was slowing down and would need to pick up the pace to about 7:45 for the last 3 miles in order to break 2:00:00. Just at that time the focal event of the night took place - the emotional lap around the track with all of the luminaria lit, and all other lights dimmed. This filled the entire track with somewhere around 400 to 500 walkers, and I began running in the grass along the outside of the track. Even at that, I was trying to keep up the pace, but it was so dark and the ground so uneven that it was ill-advised to say the least. Things cleared out a little in a few minutes, and I was back on the track, and my kids joined me for the last mile or two. Eventually my wife, several other children on our team (The Candy Pirates) and some of their parents joined my kids and me for my final lap. At the end of that final lap, I checked in with my support team, who had been faithfully relaying to me my lap count, and giving me my time when I asked (every once in a while), and they said I finished in 2:10:02. I can't tell you how impressed and thankful I was (and still am) that someone I know only casually was willing to spend two hours cheering me on, bringing me water bottles (and a banana  ) and providing me with my "data". I took one slow lap around the track, and a wave of emotion came over me. I was on the verge of that "big cry" that I hadn't experienced over the loss of my dad in nearly 10 years. But as fast as it started, it was over. My wife jogged along with me and asked "How do you feel?". I was silent for a moment, then answered "sore." There was no way I could verbalize just how I really felt at that moment. I still don't know how I really feel. On one hand, I feel like I let my dad down by only training for and completing the 1/2; I made a commitment and couldn't fulfill it. I know I did my best, but that little nagging voice won't leave me alone. On another hand, I have that common emotion that people talk about on here at the completion of a "goal race". It's done. I missed my goal and ran even slower than last year - even though I "know" that it was the conditions that kept me from breaking 2:00:00. It was nearly 30 degrees cooler for this event last year, and the rain last year kept at least half of the participants away. On the other hand, I paid tribute to my dad's memory, and my wife and kids joined me in that tribute. I spent some time afterwards with a really great group of folks that comprised our team, and was part of something bigger, too. Our team raised over $4,000 for cancer research. Thanks for reading all of this. bty
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