10K Race Recap... a.k.a The Mental Game
So, let me preface my race recap by filling you in on a couple of things...
1) I wasn't able to train for this race quite as vigorously as I had originally planned, due to a possible health concern. At a routine physical back in August, I mentioned to my doctor a skipping/palpitations feeling that I experience occasionally in my heart (I've never had it checked out before). It's been happening to some extent for my entire life, but seems to be happening a little more frequently of late. The doctor heard it happening when she listened to my heart that day, and scheduled me for more tests-- I'll be meeting with a cardiologist later in October. It could be something sort of normal, or it could be more serious and require medication. My doctor gave me the go-ahead to continue running, but recommended that I didn't push myself to maximum heart rate potential for any extended period of time, at least until we find out more about what's going on. So basically my "training" for this race consisted of running 5-6 times a week (a total weekly mileage of about 20-25 miles) at a comfortable pace. I didn't keep much track of my times or do any of the speedwork that I had originally hoped to include in my workouts to get a bit faster for this race. Things have been really busy for me anyway, so it's not like I would have been keeping track, but especially because of my heart thing I tried not to think too much about it.
2) My unspoken goal had been to finish this 10K in under an hour. It was an ambitious goal-- if you do the math, that means I would have to be maintaining a consistent pace of about 9:40 per mile. My average half marathon pace was 10:50 per mile. That was a longer distance, which obviously necessitates a more conservative pace, but still, to expect to shave an entire minute per mile off my pace was pretty gutsy considering I wasn't able to train at full strength. As race day came around, however, I was kind of wondering if I could still push myself to meet that goal, despite the fact that my training hadn't been what I had planned.
So. Those are the two things. Now on to race day.
We arrived in Boston and met my friend Missy.
Things were really busy-- the Kid's Race was starting as we arrived and N didn't want to miss it, so we headed quickly over to the start while Missy kindly picked up my race packet and bib for me. N did her race, the girls had their faces painted, I scarfed my pre-race PBJ, we made a trip to the potty, and before I knew it they were calling us into the road to be seeded.
I decided to seed myself in the 9-10 minute mile group (again, ambitious). The announcer called us into the road about 30 minutes before gun time. I wish I had waited and stayed with my family longer, because as soon as I was by myself just standing around waiting for the starting gun, I began to feel nervous. I wasn't nervous about the distance or running or anything-- except my time goal. I guess it was more important to me than I had realized. Because I was nervous and the race-day adrenaline was going, my heart started to skip (these palpitations seem to be anxiety-related). This made me even more nervous... I didn't want anything to go wrong with me medically. I took some deep breaths and reminded myself to relax and have fun and not worry about my time, and gradually I got myself calmed down.
The microphone was passed around to several important VIPs who wished us all good luck, the national anthem was sung, and after what seemed like *forever* the gun went off. I cheered with my fellow racers and as the elite runners went through the starting gate my seed moved up. I crossed the starting line and as soon as I started running, my heart calmed down (this is one reason I feel okay about continuing to run... it seems to have a calming effect on my heart). I still felt that weak fluttery feeling in my body somewhat, but my heart was now beating normally.
The first mile felt really good, despite feeling some weakness initially. I was passing a lot of people. My pace didn't feel fast, but it wasn't conservative either. It felt comfortable at the time, but I wondered whether the feeling of weakness would effect my ability to maintain this pace throughout the race. Still, I was really relieved just to be moving and not standing around waiting any more. Things felt loose and comfortable.
I saw the first mile marker coming up, and as I passed it the time read 10:40. I felt a surge of disappointment. I thought surely a 10:40 per mile pace would have felt more slow to me. I knew as I entered the second mile that I could not achieve my time goal running at this pace. And with that realization, all of the sudden even the 10:40 pace felt like it was too much for me. Every step felt like a huge effort. I just wanted to stop right then.
I let myself slow down a little, but I didn't stop. I wanted to. But I didn't. I tried to dig deep and find some positive thoughts. It was hard. I think I was overtired from the last few active days of travel, and it just felt like my heart wasn't really in it. I tried to relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery (we were now crossing the Mass Ave bridge over the Charles) but I just couldn't shake that disappointment that I wouldn't be able to be as fast as I had wanted to be. I don't know why it mattered so much to me... usually I'm very content to be a tortoise, but today was different for some reason.
I passed the mile 2 marker at 20:40. "Okay," I thought, "so mile 2 was a 10-minute mile. I can be somewhat proud of that, I guess."
Just after I passed the mile 2 marker, I remembered... the clocks on the mile markers show gun time, not net time!! Silly!! I didn't know when I had crossed the starting line, but I was pretty sure it was at least 30 seconds after the gun went off. So when I had seen the clock read 10:40 at mile 1, I should have subtracted those 30 seconds, and maybe a bit more, to get my real time. So mile 1 had been a 10-minute mile too, or maybe just under!
That realization freed my legs up, and I flew through the next mile.
It's amazing the power of the mental game, isn't it? This race really brought that home for me in a tangible way.
I did the math at the next mile marker and my pace from mile 2 to 3 was 9:50.
(Another thing that I learned from this race was that doing mental math while you're also focusing on the effort of running is very difficult, and takes about twice as long as usual.)
Miles 3 to 5 I started to feel that weakness again. There were some small hills and things got crowded with the other runners in a few spots. I could also hear some pretty ragged breathing from the runners around me, which is never very encouraging (no offense to them)! I fought the urge to walk several times. My inner monologue during those two miles was mostly, "NO NO NO you CANNOT walk, you are NOT allowed to walk, DON'T do it!!"
I also realized at this point that there were NO spectators. Not even one! We had seen some in the first mile, but now it was just us runners and the street and the sky. It was surprising for a race in Boston, and I realized at that point how much those encouraging cheers can lift you up during a race!
I slowed my pace a few times and gained a total of 40 seconds over those two miles, which I guess put my pace at about 10:20 (again, I was doing the math while running, so I'm not trusting my memory too well on that).
I came over the bridge again and approached the mile 5 marker. I had hoped to be able to quicken my pace in the last mile, but I was still feeling pretty discouraged and like everything was a huge effort. Still fighting the urge to walk a lot.
About 1/4 mile into the last mile, I realized that, although I knew I wouldn't meet my time goal, this was the hardest I had pushed myself through any race. That felt like an accomplishment to me-- however small. Again I felt the "power of positive thinking" and my legs started to move under me with a little less effort. Around the last 1/2 mile I really started to open up. It didn't feel easy by any means, but I was determined. "Push it, keep going, don't let up, you can do this, not much farther," I said to myself. My breathing began to be as ragged as everyone else's.
I passed the mile 6 marker as the clock struck 1:02:00... one hour and two minutes. My time goal slipped away from me as I rounded the corner and saw the finish line. 0.2 miles never seemed farther. "Just don't slow down. Just don't slow down. Just don't slow down." I managed to sprint a bit as I got really close to the end. I crossed the finish line at 1:04:17 (gun time).
It seems ridiculous and silly that I was so disappointed. I was within four minutes of my goal. And I hadn't really even trained that hard. I tried really hard to be happy with that time but I just wasn't.
Yes, I guess I'm silly and overly competitive and focused on myself.
I cheered my friend Missy into the finish line. (She achieved the huge accomplishment of doubling her race mileage that day! Amazing!) We had our post-race water and fruit and gathered up our things and said goodbye.
M and I talked on the way home. We talked about how races are funny and how you get super competitive for that one day, when the rest of the year you're just happy to get out your door for a run. I reminded myself that my goal had been very ambitious and that, with everything that has been going on in our lives lately, being four minutes over my time goal was really not too bad. I ran a race that was consistent with my training efforts.
And I tried to remember all the victims of the marathon bombings, whose feet touched the same roads as mine had that day, some of whom will never run-- or even walk-- again. Thinking about that, and all of the other crazy things going on in our world, sure made me grateful for many things.
But of course I checked my results almost as soon as we got home. And guess what my net time was? 1:03:01. So I was about a minute and twenty seconds behind the gun time.
You know what that means? That first mile-- the one that I was so disappointed over when I passed the mile 1 marker-- was run at a 9:25 pace. The fastest mile I've ever run on record.
If I had been able to celebrate as I should have over that mile, I might not have had disappointment plague me and slow me down for the rest of the race... and maybe... just maybe... I might have met my time goal after all.
That sounds like a regret, but it's not. I rejoiced big time over that one mile after I came to that realization at home. And I'm really happy that I learned so much about how one little mental disappointment can set you up for future failure if you allow it. That can apply to other things than just running, can it not?
It's also good to learn that not every race will be a perfect race, and we all have bad days. Hopefully that knowledge will take some of the pressure off next time.
Is there too much reflecting going on here? Obsessive much? Okay, well, I'm done now. On to the next thing!!
1) I wasn't able to train for this race quite as vigorously as I had originally planned, due to a possible health concern. At a routine physical back in August, I mentioned to my doctor a skipping/palpitations feeling that I experience occasionally in my heart (I've never had it checked out before). It's been happening to some extent for my entire life, but seems to be happening a little more frequently of late. The doctor heard it happening when she listened to my heart that day, and scheduled me for more tests-- I'll be meeting with a cardiologist later in October. It could be something sort of normal, or it could be more serious and require medication. My doctor gave me the go-ahead to continue running, but recommended that I didn't push myself to maximum heart rate potential for any extended period of time, at least until we find out more about what's going on. So basically my "training" for this race consisted of running 5-6 times a week (a total weekly mileage of about 20-25 miles) at a comfortable pace. I didn't keep much track of my times or do any of the speedwork that I had originally hoped to include in my workouts to get a bit faster for this race. Things have been really busy for me anyway, so it's not like I would have been keeping track, but especially because of my heart thing I tried not to think too much about it.
2) My unspoken goal had been to finish this 10K in under an hour. It was an ambitious goal-- if you do the math, that means I would have to be maintaining a consistent pace of about 9:40 per mile. My average half marathon pace was 10:50 per mile. That was a longer distance, which obviously necessitates a more conservative pace, but still, to expect to shave an entire minute per mile off my pace was pretty gutsy considering I wasn't able to train at full strength. As race day came around, however, I was kind of wondering if I could still push myself to meet that goal, despite the fact that my training hadn't been what I had planned.
So. Those are the two things. Now on to race day.
We arrived in Boston and met my friend Missy.
 |
| Missy got this pic of M's and my pre-race hug... awww! |
I decided to seed myself in the 9-10 minute mile group (again, ambitious). The announcer called us into the road about 30 minutes before gun time. I wish I had waited and stayed with my family longer, because as soon as I was by myself just standing around waiting for the starting gun, I began to feel nervous. I wasn't nervous about the distance or running or anything-- except my time goal. I guess it was more important to me than I had realized. Because I was nervous and the race-day adrenaline was going, my heart started to skip (these palpitations seem to be anxiety-related). This made me even more nervous... I didn't want anything to go wrong with me medically. I took some deep breaths and reminded myself to relax and have fun and not worry about my time, and gradually I got myself calmed down.
The microphone was passed around to several important VIPs who wished us all good luck, the national anthem was sung, and after what seemed like *forever* the gun went off. I cheered with my fellow racers and as the elite runners went through the starting gate my seed moved up. I crossed the starting line and as soon as I started running, my heart calmed down (this is one reason I feel okay about continuing to run... it seems to have a calming effect on my heart). I still felt that weak fluttery feeling in my body somewhat, but my heart was now beating normally.
The first mile felt really good, despite feeling some weakness initially. I was passing a lot of people. My pace didn't feel fast, but it wasn't conservative either. It felt comfortable at the time, but I wondered whether the feeling of weakness would effect my ability to maintain this pace throughout the race. Still, I was really relieved just to be moving and not standing around waiting any more. Things felt loose and comfortable.
I saw the first mile marker coming up, and as I passed it the time read 10:40. I felt a surge of disappointment. I thought surely a 10:40 per mile pace would have felt more slow to me. I knew as I entered the second mile that I could not achieve my time goal running at this pace. And with that realization, all of the sudden even the 10:40 pace felt like it was too much for me. Every step felt like a huge effort. I just wanted to stop right then.
I let myself slow down a little, but I didn't stop. I wanted to. But I didn't. I tried to dig deep and find some positive thoughts. It was hard. I think I was overtired from the last few active days of travel, and it just felt like my heart wasn't really in it. I tried to relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery (we were now crossing the Mass Ave bridge over the Charles) but I just couldn't shake that disappointment that I wouldn't be able to be as fast as I had wanted to be. I don't know why it mattered so much to me... usually I'm very content to be a tortoise, but today was different for some reason.
I passed the mile 2 marker at 20:40. "Okay," I thought, "so mile 2 was a 10-minute mile. I can be somewhat proud of that, I guess."
Just after I passed the mile 2 marker, I remembered... the clocks on the mile markers show gun time, not net time!! Silly!! I didn't know when I had crossed the starting line, but I was pretty sure it was at least 30 seconds after the gun went off. So when I had seen the clock read 10:40 at mile 1, I should have subtracted those 30 seconds, and maybe a bit more, to get my real time. So mile 1 had been a 10-minute mile too, or maybe just under!
That realization freed my legs up, and I flew through the next mile.
It's amazing the power of the mental game, isn't it? This race really brought that home for me in a tangible way.
I did the math at the next mile marker and my pace from mile 2 to 3 was 9:50.
(Another thing that I learned from this race was that doing mental math while you're also focusing on the effort of running is very difficult, and takes about twice as long as usual.)
Miles 3 to 5 I started to feel that weakness again. There were some small hills and things got crowded with the other runners in a few spots. I could also hear some pretty ragged breathing from the runners around me, which is never very encouraging (no offense to them)! I fought the urge to walk several times. My inner monologue during those two miles was mostly, "NO NO NO you CANNOT walk, you are NOT allowed to walk, DON'T do it!!"
I also realized at this point that there were NO spectators. Not even one! We had seen some in the first mile, but now it was just us runners and the street and the sky. It was surprising for a race in Boston, and I realized at that point how much those encouraging cheers can lift you up during a race!
I slowed my pace a few times and gained a total of 40 seconds over those two miles, which I guess put my pace at about 10:20 (again, I was doing the math while running, so I'm not trusting my memory too well on that).
I came over the bridge again and approached the mile 5 marker. I had hoped to be able to quicken my pace in the last mile, but I was still feeling pretty discouraged and like everything was a huge effort. Still fighting the urge to walk a lot.
About 1/4 mile into the last mile, I realized that, although I knew I wouldn't meet my time goal, this was the hardest I had pushed myself through any race. That felt like an accomplishment to me-- however small. Again I felt the "power of positive thinking" and my legs started to move under me with a little less effort. Around the last 1/2 mile I really started to open up. It didn't feel easy by any means, but I was determined. "Push it, keep going, don't let up, you can do this, not much farther," I said to myself. My breathing began to be as ragged as everyone else's.
I passed the mile 6 marker as the clock struck 1:02:00... one hour and two minutes. My time goal slipped away from me as I rounded the corner and saw the finish line. 0.2 miles never seemed farther. "Just don't slow down. Just don't slow down. Just don't slow down." I managed to sprint a bit as I got really close to the end. I crossed the finish line at 1:04:17 (gun time).
It seems ridiculous and silly that I was so disappointed. I was within four minutes of my goal. And I hadn't really even trained that hard. I tried really hard to be happy with that time but I just wasn't.
Yes, I guess I'm silly and overly competitive and focused on myself.
I cheered my friend Missy into the finish line. (She achieved the huge accomplishment of doubling her race mileage that day! Amazing!) We had our post-race water and fruit and gathered up our things and said goodbye.
M and I talked on the way home. We talked about how races are funny and how you get super competitive for that one day, when the rest of the year you're just happy to get out your door for a run. I reminded myself that my goal had been very ambitious and that, with everything that has been going on in our lives lately, being four minutes over my time goal was really not too bad. I ran a race that was consistent with my training efforts.
And I tried to remember all the victims of the marathon bombings, whose feet touched the same roads as mine had that day, some of whom will never run-- or even walk-- again. Thinking about that, and all of the other crazy things going on in our world, sure made me grateful for many things.
But of course I checked my results almost as soon as we got home. And guess what my net time was? 1:03:01. So I was about a minute and twenty seconds behind the gun time.
You know what that means? That first mile-- the one that I was so disappointed over when I passed the mile 1 marker-- was run at a 9:25 pace. The fastest mile I've ever run on record.
If I had been able to celebrate as I should have over that mile, I might not have had disappointment plague me and slow me down for the rest of the race... and maybe... just maybe... I might have met my time goal after all.
That sounds like a regret, but it's not. I rejoiced big time over that one mile after I came to that realization at home. And I'm really happy that I learned so much about how one little mental disappointment can set you up for future failure if you allow it. That can apply to other things than just running, can it not?
It's also good to learn that not every race will be a perfect race, and we all have bad days. Hopefully that knowledge will take some of the pressure off next time.
Is there too much reflecting going on here? Obsessive much? Okay, well, I'm done now. On to the next thing!!
1:03 is awesome!!! My goal for my first 10k this year is to be under 1:10....
ReplyDeleteI'm so impressed! Being a bit exercise-phobic myself, I really admire that you take the time out of your busy day to train so well! Good work :)
ReplyDelete