6.8 Down, 6.3 To Go?
I got a fever, and the only prescription is more running.
A couple of months ago, my pal Megan asked me to part of her marathon relay team. At the time of sign up, I decided the 5.5-mile leg would be a do-able challenge, considering the mileage I had been running. Thennn I forgot about the relay, thennn I remembered (about two weeks out) and started training like a woman on a mission.
I’ve never enjoyed training for runs. I think I’m still burned out from a decade of training in the pool. My very loose training for the marathon relay felt good though. I’d run throughout the week and got for a ‘long run’ once a week, on whatever day felt right. I didn’t map out distances ahead of time; I just went, picturing a place far enough away in town that seemed run-able. I surprised myself a lot (hills are deceiving in both good and bad ways).
Come race day (last Sunday), I felt good. I met my team (unfortunately without Megan, who was unable to run) at 6am and randomly decided to swap legs with Rob, the 6.8-mile guy. I had the right combo of training, nerves and excitement to make this seem like a good idea.
Thankfully, it was.
Rob ran first, followed by me. When he tagged me in, I was ready to put my nerves into action. I started out at a great pace down some windy Allentown roads until the race-route connected to the familiar Sand Island Train System. I’m not particularly fond of trail running; although it was scenic and cool along the river, the endless path in front of me seems distracting and daunting. But, I knew this trail (not this section of it, though) and that familiarity was comforting in a distance that wasn’t so familiar. For the first few miles I was running at a little above a 9-minute mile pace, much faster than I assumed I’d run. I checked my watch at each mile preparing to fall off time, but I felt really good and didn’t stray too drastically from my starting pace.
I still felt good when I saw the old steel stacks in Bethlehem, knowing my leg was almost up. The last .8 made me a little antsy… I could hear the music at the relay swap line and could see runners who had passed me looping around a hidden bend to head toward the finish. Races that loop toy with my emotions in the worst way. When can I turn the bend to head the other way too? Is it soon? Is it never?
When I finished, I still felt good. I had gotten my breathing down to a perfect rhythm early on and had pressed and poked my side enough during the run to pop whatever cramp/gas bubble was starting to form. My legs felt strong up until the last half-mile or so. Part of me wanted to keep going, just to see what would happen another mile or two further.
This wonder might have sparked a little something in me- a bigger wonder for a longer distance. I laughed and smiled when I saw the note Megan made of my relay performance:
My legs may be short, but boy are the mighty!
A couple of months ago, my pal Megan asked me to part of her marathon relay team. At the time of sign up, I decided the 5.5-mile leg would be a do-able challenge, considering the mileage I had been running. Thennn I forgot about the relay, thennn I remembered (about two weeks out) and started training like a woman on a mission.
I’ve never enjoyed training for runs. I think I’m still burned out from a decade of training in the pool. My very loose training for the marathon relay felt good though. I’d run throughout the week and got for a ‘long run’ once a week, on whatever day felt right. I didn’t map out distances ahead of time; I just went, picturing a place far enough away in town that seemed run-able. I surprised myself a lot (hills are deceiving in both good and bad ways).
Come race day (last Sunday), I felt good. I met my team (unfortunately without Megan, who was unable to run) at 6am and randomly decided to swap legs with Rob, the 6.8-mile guy. I had the right combo of training, nerves and excitement to make this seem like a good idea.
Thankfully, it was.
Rob ran first, followed by me. When he tagged me in, I was ready to put my nerves into action. I started out at a great pace down some windy Allentown roads until the race-route connected to the familiar Sand Island Train System. I’m not particularly fond of trail running; although it was scenic and cool along the river, the endless path in front of me seems distracting and daunting. But, I knew this trail (not this section of it, though) and that familiarity was comforting in a distance that wasn’t so familiar. For the first few miles I was running at a little above a 9-minute mile pace, much faster than I assumed I’d run. I checked my watch at each mile preparing to fall off time, but I felt really good and didn’t stray too drastically from my starting pace.
I still felt good when I saw the old steel stacks in Bethlehem, knowing my leg was almost up. The last .8 made me a little antsy… I could hear the music at the relay swap line and could see runners who had passed me looping around a hidden bend to head toward the finish. Races that loop toy with my emotions in the worst way. When can I turn the bend to head the other way too? Is it soon? Is it never?
When I finished, I still felt good. I had gotten my breathing down to a perfect rhythm early on and had pressed and poked my side enough during the run to pop whatever cramp/gas bubble was starting to form. My legs felt strong up until the last half-mile or so. Part of me wanted to keep going, just to see what would happen another mile or two further.
This wonder might have sparked a little something in me- a bigger wonder for a longer distance. I laughed and smiled when I saw the note Megan made of my relay performance:
the runner who took on the longest leg (with the shortest legs on the team!)
My legs may be short, but boy are the mighty!