Thursday, March 24, 2011

Race Report: Canyonlands Half In Moab

My first race of 2011 is under my belt - I raced the Canyonlands Half last weekend!  It was a BEAUTIFUL course, a significant PR, and a great time.

the View from my Hotel Room
 This is the most consistently and strategically I've ever trained for a half-marathon, so although deep down I really wanted to beat my previous times, my official goal was to "see what I can do out there."  I usually write down my race goals and strategy on a piece of paper and keep it with my gear.  I didn't do that this time, but (since this is 2011) I did Tweet it:



The race didn't start until 10am and I road the shuttle from the hotel at around 8:15.  Since the run literally takes place in a canyon, the start line was pretty chill.  No music, no traffic, no mass chaos, just a bunch of runners hanging out and getting ready.

 


The race start was also chill-y.  I raced in a tank-top and capris and had to give up my warm-ups about an hour before start.  I had intended to buy some cheap cover ups from Goodwill to cast off right before the start of the race, but I didn't get around to it.  I will definitely not forget next year!




In the two halfs (halves?) I've run before, I managed just under an 11 minute mile pace.  I knew I could beat that--knew it!--but I didn't want to get too cocky, too soon.  So I planned to keep an average pace of 10:55/mi for the first seven miles and after that, if I felt good, I would speed up. 

I started off running with a teammate who I ran most of my long runs with.  The first hiccup was that I had to stop for a bathroom break . . . at Mile 0.5.  It wasn't ideal, but it didn't take long for me to realize that I wouldn't be able to make it through the whole race without stopping and I figured it was better to be comfortable sooner rather than later.  I had to run an 8:30/mi pace briefly to catch up with my running mate and stay on track, which again, was not ideal for the "leaving gas in the tank" plan, but it worked out fine.

At mile 1, I realized that my Garmin was slightly off from the course (i.e. it beeped for 1 mile shortly before I reached the mile marker on the course).  Since I was heavily depending on my watch to keep us well-paced, I made a mental note that our actual pace would be about 5 seconds slower per mile than the watch said.  (I had it set to display both the current pace and the average pace in addition to the overall time and distance.) 

 The first few miles were downhill, so it was a challenge to slow down and not take full advantage of the "free speed." And it was an interesting experience figuring out the pacing while taking into account my Garmin's margin of error and the impact of the walk breaks.  I did the 9 and 1 interval - 9 minutes of running, 1 minute of brisk walking.  I've decided I LOVE this strategy!  It helps so much in terms of breaking things up mentally and it actually makes me run faster.  I decided I wanted the 10:55/mi average pace to include the walk breaks, not just the running intervals.   So each 9 minutes I did the math -- if we slow down to/maintain/speed up to a 10:47/mi average, we'll probably finish the walk break with an average pace of 10:50/mi, which taking into account for the Garmin means we're right at 10:55.  I ran with my fuel belt and water bottle.  I didn't want to - I hate that thing - but I'm really glad I did.  I loved just being able to drink when it was convenient and not having to think about when to hit up a water station and whether it coincided with my walk breaks.

We were a little fast for the first three miles, which was ok given the downhill, so we slowed down at miles 4-7.  That was pretty easy around Mile 5, which was mostly uphill.  I stopped at the Team In Training tent at Mile 6 to ask for some anti-chafing lotion (I had put on some Vaseline in the morning but hadn't correctly guessed all the right spots -- another mental note for next time.)  I had to run an 8:30 for a bit to get back on track again, but I was still feeling good for my plan to speed up the second half.

I hadn't really thought too much about what pace I would shoot for, but in the moment I just decided that I would stop holding back.  If I caught my pace at 9:30-9:45, I wouldn't slow down.  If it felt right, I would just go with it.  I also gave myself full permission to keep running the same pace (or slower) if that was what felt right.  Right after completing Mile 7, I said farewell to my running partner, and took off!

I felt good, really good.  And I was passing a lot of people, which felt even better.  My pace was consistently in the 9s . . . hovering around 9:30-9:45 and occasionally dipping into the 8s.  I decided I would aim to keep up this pace for the rest of the race and focused on getting my average pace to go down, down, down. 

In my experience, half marathons are pretty fun until about Miles 8-9.  Then, the novelty wears off and you are ready for it to be over with.  That feeling hit me after finishing Mile 9, which conveniently coincided with a fairly challenging hill.  But, I was determined to keep up the pace and make a negative split, so I kept on.

The first ten miles are in the canyon and the last 5k goes into town.  While it's hard to make Moab ugly,  the "town" portion of the race does not mean a cute little Main Street with coffee shops and boutiques, it means running on a major highway with semi-trucks and RV Parks and cheap motels alongside.  I had mentally prepared myself for this, but I did not want to leave the canyon!  I knew that Tribal Drummers would be at Mile 10, so when I heard the beat I knew the end of the scenic view was coming.


Once I exited the canyon and began running on the coned-off shoulder of a highway, I did what I could to hang on mentally.  I was still passing people, but it was a little harder to maneuver with less space.  I started focusing on landmarks - run to the RV Park sign, run to the Motel 6, run to the Denny's.  When I passed the marker for Mile 11, I told myself to keep pushing.  Eleven is my lucky number so I decided I had to make that mile count.  I figured once I finished Mile 12, things would take care of themselves.

When I hit the Denny's, that was huge.  It meant turning the corner and heading towards the finish.  It was still a ways though - maybe a mile and a half.  There was a second turn after that to get to the actual finish line, but once I turned that corner I was hoping it would be closer than it was!  I could barely make it out in the distance.  I had skipped my last walk break and just did my best to run it in.  I calculated at Mile 10 that I would probably finish at around 2:17 and I crossed the line at 2:17:33 - a PR of 5:30!


I'm definitely smiling . . . but if you look closely it's not a happy-go-lucky kind of smile.  It's an "I've been gritting my teeth for the last four miles" kind of smile.  My biggest struggle with running is playing it too safe.  I don't like running fast so I tend to . . . not, and I worry that I'm not racing up to my physical potential.  But, I think this is pretty good photographic evidence that I left it all on the field.

I haven't analyzed the data (still haven't set up the Garmin software on my new Mac), but in the last 6.1 miles I got my overall average pace of 10:55 down to 10:30.  My non-scientific analysis?  That's pretty freakin' good!  I must have run the last six miles about a minute per mile faster than the first seven. 

I was really excited about my PR on Saturday and 100% proud of myself for making such crazy negative splits, but on Monday I started to doubt myself and feel a little down.  I PR-ed the half, so what?  I could have gone even faster if I hadn't started out so slow.  These were my thoughts.  But, I've done this enough to know that this kind of post-race depression is normal and it passes.  Today I'm back to feeling proud of my accomplishment and excited for tri season. 

It really helped to think back to my goals at the beginning of the season - none of them were speed related.  All I wanted was to learn to like running more and to re-kindle my motivation to keep at it.  And this morning, something amazing happened.  I set my alarm early to catch a yoga class before work (I've been taking hot yoga at Core Power - love it!)  As soon as I woke up I realized my anti-skid yoga towel was still dirty from yesterday, so yoga was out.  So I decided instead, I think I'll go out for a run . . .

Friday, March 04, 2011

Why I Try

Note that this post isn't titled with the play on words "Why I Tri," a staple in the triathlon blogosphere and a feature in the newsletter or website of every triathlon group in the country.  This is less about what motivates me to do triathlons and more wondering how it ever even occurred to me to make this kind of effort.

I started thinking about this earlier this week when I read two articles in as many hours, both about women's self-esteem in the classroom.  One was about how bright fifth grade girls were quicker to give up on a challenge than their less intelligent male counterparts, and the other was about how women were less likely to be vocal and engaged in law school.   Both articles felt like I was reading my horoscope.

"The Trouble With Bright Girls" by Heidi Grant Halvarson on the Huffington Post posed an interesting theory as to why the smartest girls were often the quickest to give up.
Most likely, it has to do with the kinds of feedback we get from parents and teachers as young children. Girls, who develop self-control earlier and are better able to follow instructions, are often praised for their "goodness." When we do well in school, we are told that we are "so smart," "so clever, " or "such a good student." This kind of praise implies that traits like smartness, cleverness and goodness are qualities you either have or you don't.


Boys, on the other hand, are a handful. Just trying to get boys to sit still and pay attention is a real challenge for any parent or teacher. As a result, boys are given a lot more feedback that emphasizes effort (e.g., "If you would just pay attention you could learn this," "If you would just try a little harder you could get it right.") The net result: When learning something new is truly difficult, girls take it as sign that they aren't "good" and "smart," and boys take it as a sign to pay attention and try harder.
The National Jurist reports on a survey demonstrating what happens when these bright girls grow up and go to law school:
“Female students are less likely to place themselves in situations they perceive to be risky,” said Lindsay Watkins, the survey’s project manager at the Center for Postsecondary Research at Indiana University in Bloomington. “Female students were more likely to report working hard in law school to either avoid embarrassment in front of their peers, or out of a fear of failure, than were their male classmates.”
I read the first article from a link on a friend's Facebook page and one woman commented that in her experience as a teacher, it was absolutely true that telling children they are bright and smart is counterproductive.  It was much more important to give positive feedback for their effort and work habits.  Another guy wrote jokingly but thought-provokingly that maybe video games were the secret to self-esteem:  "As a lad, I learned how to fail, restart, power-up, and reach the next level - with new powers! - again, and again, and again."

Later that night I got to thinking (cue the Carrie Bradshaw voiceover) . . . I've always been more brainy than brawny, why wasn't I more risk-averse when it came to trying sports?  Why did I turn bright red and my heart race when trading essays in high school for peer review, but had no problem competing on the gymnastics team?  (I seriously sucked - a perfect score is 10,  I rarely scored above a 6, and often scored in the 3 range.)  I ate lunch in the library every day 1L year re-reading Torts cases out of fear that I would make a fool out of myself when given the Socratic method, yet I trained on my own for my first marathon without a clue what I was doing and am not embarrassed at all about my time -- 5:27:53!!!  The first few months of my first real lawyer job, I walked home every day with my head hung low, convinced that I was the dumbest, least capable person in the entire world, but during my first half-Ironman I held my head up high starting the second loop of the run course when most other racers were finishing.

Why the discontinuity?  Maybe since I was never naturally talented at sports growing up, I was given praise for my effort and that has stayed with me.  Perhaps I owe my crazy triathlon-ing to my kickball coach in third grade.  My Dad often reminds me that before every game she would say, "What do I want you girls to do out there?," and we would recite in unison, "THINK!"  Or, maybe since school and academic endeavors have always been easier for me, I'm more likely to tend towards perfectionism, which can be very paralyzing.  When I enter a half-marathon or triathlon, I know I have no chance at succeeding in the objective sense, so I can just relax and focus on doing my best.

Speaking of half-marathons, I am racing in Moab in two weeks!  This is the most consistently and methodically that I've ever trained for a running event (a subject for another post), so I'm pretty excited to see what I can do out there.  But regardless of what my chip time ends up being, I think it's safe to say that I'll be proud of myself for my effort and hard work.