"In every race there is a crucial moment when the body wants to quit. Then it needs imagination and mental tenacity to survive the crisis. Otherwise the penalty is defeat."
-Derek Ibbotson (T. O'Connor, 1960)
This last Sunday I opened up the running season with a beautiful race on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington. The North Olympic Discovery Marathon, Half-Marathon, and 10km take place on a beautiful, hard-surface path from Sequim to Port Angeles. The events are each point-to-point, picking up along the trail however many miles from the shared finish line. This would be my second time participating in the half-marathon but my first time running it. In 2007, I was battling ITB impingement and on that day it got the best of me, forcing me to run the last 8 miles literally on one leg.
Race morning of 2011, however, would find the sky blue and myself injury free as I packed into the car with my father (also running) and support crew of wife, brother, and mom to drive north towards Sequim.
My amazing wife also gets credit for the photography (other than this shot, of course, taken near the half-marathon start)
In the couple days prior to the race, I switched from my regular diet where I try to emphasize low energy-density, high-fiber foods like carrots with readily digested, processed foods like white pasta and cereal. Some of the same reasons as to why one would want to avoid excessive amounts of the latter foods in their normal diet make them a good option to eat in the days leading up to a race. They'll provide you with carbohydrates without making a long-term occupation of your GI tract (read: ambush on race-day). So there I sat in the car on the drive up to the race contentedly munching on Reese's Puffs cereal and a banana. I also had a tall glass of dark chocolate Almond milk before we left and brought along a cup of coffee.
Arriving at Agnew Soccer Field, where the race begins, I first stopped by the last of a wonderfully long-row of porta-potties before heading over to registration to grab my number and timing chip. My brother kindly held the clothespins as I crumpled up the race number (this allows it to better conform to you body as you run). He liked to remind me that he set the family record for this race in 2007 with a solid 1:41 time that earned him 2nd in our age group. I'd jokingly asked him a few days prior, "What does your half-marathon record have in common with the milk in my fridge?" (Answer: they both expire this Sunday).
Part of the gorgeous view from the starting area is seen behind my Dad and I as we pose for a quick photo before the race start.
I've been training pretty heavily lately and had developed some phantom soreness in my right knee. Even though I hadn't felt any pain while running, I was quite intent on keeping it that way and set about a gentle warm-up. Tim Noakes, in his book Lore of Running, recommends a brief warm-up with some stretching and race pace efforts before starting and that's just what I set about doing, along with a few leg swings and other drills (butt kicks, high knees, and strides) to loosen up. We'd arrived at the starting area one hour before the 9am start time, which was a very comfortable buffer to get checked in, use the facilities and warm up.
Speaking of warming up, sweats were unnecessary as the day climbed towards it's anticipated 70 degree temperature. As Noakes writes:
"... as you amble nervously over to the horde of gathered runners, you need to take the "starting-line test." This test, first described by Osler (1978), states that if while standing at the start in your skimpy running clothes you do not feel cold, then the weather for that day is too hot for you to run your best marathon. That being the case, remember the running axiom, 'in the cold you run for time, in the heat you run for a place,' and set your pace accordingly.... the novice who is too ambitious in the heat will suffer the ultimate indignity of turning to pulp and being passed by experienced runners like myself who know that the heat is the great equalizer."
Standing at the start line in my lightweight singlet and running shorts (both by Zoot, and those are my favorite shorts), I felt comfortable if slightly warm so I knew to hedge my fluid intake and pace accordingly. I seeded myself a little back of my anticipated pace, in the expectation that others would start too quickly, and shook my legs out as the announcer called down, "10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..." and we were off!
The race start. In case you're wondering, and I know you're wondering, the race official in the foreground is on a Specialized Tarmac.
The first couple hundred yards of the race are flat and take place on smooth, chip-seal roads. After a 180 out-and-back, the race joins up with the Olympic Discovery Trail which it follows to the finish at the picturesque Port Angeles shore-front. I felt very comfortable starting out and the first few miles rolled by painlessly as we ran through countryside worthy of a painting, framed by the alps of the Olympic Peninsula.
Around the 4 mile mark, the first phase of the race through the gentle countryside ends and the next phase, that of slightly rolling and winding terrain through the forest, begins. There are a couple very short, very steep hills peppered throughout the course, and the first occurs just before you enter the forest and has lots of crowd support.
Now several miles into the race, the field started to spread itself out even further. I was happy to be among the front of the race as we ran through the deceptively warm shade provided by the serene forest. With each little uphill that we faced, it seemed that I would give up around 1 meter to those I was running near, but with each downhill I focused on really opening up my stride and more than made it back.
The race continues through the forest with aid stations every 1-2 miles. I haven't been tolerating liquids very well recently on runs, but the warmer weather forced me to change my plans when I battled a crash in energy at mile 6. I then modified my strategy at each aid station, grabbing a glass of water and Gatorade. I slowed my pace just enough to down the glass of Gatorade and poured the water over my head but then leaned forward, allowing the excess to drip off rather than weigh down my singlet. Proceeding in that manner I was quite refreshed and re-committed myself to making the best time I could to the next aid station. I always try to thank or at least acknowledge volunteers out on the course, and special thanks goes out to the band of musicians playing wood instruments that set up shop in the forest.
Around the 8 mile mark, the trail emerges from the forest and hits a long, fairly steep downhill that parallels the highway. I did my best to let my legs fly free and allow gravity to do the work as I tried to hold off a very fast looking runner in a yellow singlet that read, "we roll like Supinators!" After a short stretch on a wooden boardwalk, we hit a looong, gentle downhill nicely in the shade of tall forest and I really did my best to push the pace. I pushed the pace perhaps too hard, unfortunately, as I came out from the forest and the pace pushed me right back when I reached the final section- an approximately 4 mile stretch along the waterfront to the finish. You can actually see the finish from this point and it's either encouraging or quite dispiriting, depending on your energy level. My plan was to hit this part of the course and really open up, passing all those who had taken it out too hard. Unfortunately this goal didn't really materialize. I've had great bike volume the past 9 months as I studied for my courses, but such are the time constraints of medical school that I could only get in 1-3 runs a week. Recently that increased to 4-5, but it may have been a case of too little, too late as I had neither the consistency in running or foundation in mileage to maintain my desired pace over the last few miles. Instead, I found myself just working on maintaining the best pace that I could as I hit a tempo towards the finish.
My right knee, which I'd been concerned about, had remained totally quiescent throughout the race and would fortunately continue to do so. But only to leave me surprised by the completely unanticipated rebellion of my left, which began to hurt suddenly and fairly severely at a strategic point in the last 2 miles of the race. After a short deliberation, I stopped and quickly strapped on the patella strap that I'd been carrying and the result was almost miraculous- an immediate reduction in pain to get me back towards running instead of the pained shuffle I would have been otherwise forced into. In this fashion I was led to the finish, and came in with a time of 1:37:31, good enough for first place in my 20-24 age group and 31st overall.
Picking up a very nice plaque at the awards ceremony
Overall, I would very highly recommend this race for it's gorgeous scenery, excellent execution, and phenomenal post-race food/atmosphere/location. Though the hard surface of the bike path can beat up on your joints, it really is an inspiring run through some beautiful countryside and I had a lot of fun racing.
Nice job!!!!!
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