Note: In my last race report, I promised to be more brief in my next one. I have failed to keep that promise.

This past Saturday (April 30, 2011), I finished the Illinois Marathon in Champaign-Urbana, which was my second full marathon. My first was a little over a year ago: the 2010 GO! St. Louis Marathon, which I finished in 4:13:34. My time on Saturday was 3:38:42, a new PR by 34 minutes and 52 seconds. My “A” goal going into the race had been to break 3:40 (with a “B” goal of breaking 3:45 and a “C” goal of breaking 4:00), so I am very happy with how the race went.

My goal at the GO! St. Louis had been modest – to finish without walking – but this time, I wanted to see what I could do if I pushed myself harder, both in training and on race day. I still have a long way to go to qualify for Boston, but Saturday was a substantial step in the right direction.

If you care to learn more about my race – in exhaustive, even excruciating detail – please read on.

Training Recap

A friend on dailymile asked me, “What about your training do you attribute such a great PR?”

After reflecting on that question, I think there are four basic reasons that I was able to improve:

First (and probably most important), my training for Illinois was much more consistent than for the GO! St. Louis. I did work on improving my speed with some intervals and tempo runs, but, for the most part, I simply put in more miles. Starting in October of last year, I put in over 100 miles every month, including 159 miles in March and 138 in April (not including the marathon itself) at the peak of my training. Not a lot for some runners, but much more than I’ve ever run before. For comparison, I ran 165 miles total for the two months before GO! St. Louis. In other words, my mileage almost doubled, and, by early April, running at my “A” goal pace of 8:22 felt comfortable on the 9- to 10-mile Marathon Pace workouts required by my training plan (the Hansons' Less-Is-More plan that was featured in Runner’s World back in January).

Second, I managed (barely) to keep my head and avoid the classic mistake of going out too fast.

Third, my previous time of 4:13:34 was almost exactly the average for my gender and age group (4:17:45 in 2009, according to MarathonGuide.com), so I had quite a bit of room for improvement in my second marathon. For my third, I have no expectation that I will be able to improve my time by nearly as much.

Fourth, I have been working on my running form and transitioning from traditional to more minimalist shoes over the course of the past year. I can’t quantify how much of a difference these changes made, but I do think they were meaningful, not mere rounding errors. (This may be the subject of a future post.)

My Race Plan

A couple weeks ago, just before the Boston Marathon, I came across a post by Dr. Mark Cucuzzella on How to Run the Boston Marathon. If you haven’t heard of him, Dr. Cucuzzella is hardcore. He is 44 and has run Boston 17 times (or is it 18 now?) times, including a 2:34:20 last year, so I figured it would be smart to listen to his advice, which is not really specific to Boston.

Dr. Cucuzzella recommends that you do a few simple things to run a successful marathon:

1. Run relaxed. Relax your face, shoulders, arms, and legs, as you run.
2. At the same time, make sure that your posture is tall.
3. Maintain effort, not speed, especially on uphills.
4. Pay attention to your breathing. Fast breathing means that you are burning glycogen and will run out of fuel before the finish.
5. On a practical note, take an energy gel every 25 minutes so that you have some fuel left for the last 3-4 miles, when fatigue sets in.

There is more, but those were the main points I took away. I did my best to practice the first four points during my final training runs, especially #4, which I had never really considered before.

For the race itself, my plan was simple:

1. Run it as a “10K with a 20-mile warm-up” (as I read on a spectator’s sign at the finish), i.e., settle into a conservative pace – one that felt a little too easy – for the first 20 miles, then push the last 10K with whatever I had left.
2. Do my best to run the tangents.
3. For hydration, drink some water at every aid station. I had considered carrying my handheld bottle or wearing my Nathan HPL 020 hydration vest, but decided in the end to go as light as possible.
4. For fuel, take a Honey Stinger energy gel every 4 miles: the caffeinated Ginsting variety for the first 4 and then the regular Gold for the last 2. (At 32 mg of caffeine each, four Ginstings is about the equivalent of one strong cup of coffee.)
5. For electrolytes, take one S-Cap every hour. (Energy gel and sports drink – not that I planned to drink any – don’t really provide that many electrolytes, especially sodium.)

The Day Before

On Friday, my wife Jessica wrapped up her clinic at Barnes-Jewish West County Hospital at 3:45 PM, so I drove out to meet her with our boys Alexander and Nicholas, and we were on the road by 4 PM. Unfortunately, West County is in the opposite direction from Champaign, so it took us two hours to get to Effingham, IL, where we always stop for dinner at the Firefly Grill, a fantastic restaurant that serves delicious food, sourced mostly from local farms.

I ate:

• one crab rangoon, made with fresh Dungeness crab
• one duck confit spring roll
• one quarter of a Caesar salad made with some beautiful Little Gem lettuce
• about a third of a braised Kurobuta pork shank
• most of the rice and half of the braised spinach that came with the pork shank
• some fries off Alexander’s plate
• one pint of Bell’s Oberon Ale
• three bites of papaya and mango sorbet

Not exactly the traditional pre-marathon carbo-loading pasta feed, and probably more fat than ideal, but it tasted great.

We got back on the road at 7:30 (I’m not sure why dinner always take an hour and a half) and arrived in Champaign at 8:30, where we were staying with Jessica’s grandmother (whom we all call “Nana”).

While Jessica got the boys ready for bed, I got myself ready for the morning:

• I set out my Nike Race Day t-shirt and shorts (which – treehugger that I am – I bought because they’re made of recycled polyester), the Illinois Marathon socks that Nana bought me for Christmas, and my sunscreen in the bathroom.
• I pinned my bib to my shirt.
• I trimmed the sharp corners off six packets of Honey Stinger and stuffed four of them into the loops of my iFitness race belt, which I then secured with masking tape (having dropped many of them on training runs).
• I put my new Garmin GTU 10 GPS tracker (so that Jessica could follow my progress on the course), two Kleenex, and a baggie with four S-Caps into the belt’s front zippered pocket.
• I put another baggie with four S-Caps into the back pocket of my shorts, as a back-up.
• I put my shoes (Newton Gravity neutral trainers), belt, visor, sunglasses, and keys by the front door.
• I put my bagel, banana, and water bottle next to the coffee pot in the kitchen.
• I plugged my Garmin 305 into its charger by the bed.
• I set the alarm on my phone for 4:45 AM and the one on Jessica’s phone for 4:50 AM, also by the bed.

I finally got in bed at 9:45 and checked the forecast one last time: a low around 50 and a high in the mid-70’s, with strong winds around 20 mph, gusting up to 40 mph, from the south. That wind was worrying, but I instructed myself not to think about it anymore. The last thing I did before closing my eyes was to reset my alarms for 4:50 and 4:55.

The Morning

I woke up on my own at 4:47 AM, wondering why my alarm had not gone off before remembering that I’d reset it. Nana had set the timer on the coffee pot, so it was brewing already as I toasted my bagel and spread it with peanut butter. I ate my bagel and banana standing up, alternating sips of water and black coffee between each bite. I brushed my teeth, changed my clothes, applied sunscreen on my face, arms, and legs (I am, after all, married to a soon-to-be dermatologist). At 5:45, I was opening the front door, when I heard foot steps behind me. I turned to see Nicholas, our three-year-old, standing behind me. “Where’s Mama?” he asked. I carried him back to the bed where Jessica was sleeping, gave him a kiss, and prayed that he would fall back asleep as I slipped back out the door.

The race start was outside the University of Illinois' Assembly Hall, less than two miles from Nana’s house, so I had plenty of time to get there. It was already breezy and still chilly, so I stopped into Walgreens to buy some throw-away clothes. I found a hoodie for $9.99 that claimed to be a large but it must have been a woman’s large or a child’s large because I could barely get my arms in the sleeves. Oh well, better than nothing. Traffic was not too bad on my way to the Assembly Hall, and I had no trouble finding a parking space.

As I opened the door of my car and grabbed my drop bag, I noticed that there was nothing on my wrist. I had forgot my Garmin! Argh!

For a minute, I considered running without a Garmin, just going by feel for the whole race, but then I decided that I had to go back and get it. Even though I rarely check my Garmin while training, I do check it (at least) once per mile during a race and having it on is like a security blanket, which I wasn’t ready to give it up. It was 6:15, so I had time, if I hurried.

I tore out of the parking lot as the incoming traffic kept on getting thicker and thicker. Luckily, the streets were pretty empty, so I made it back to Nana’s house in 5 minutes, snuck into our room to find Nicholas asleep (hooray!), grabbed my Garmin out of its charger, gave a startled Jessica a quick kiss, and raced back to the car. The traffic on the way back was worse but not gridlocked, so I was back in the parking lot by 6:40. I had 20 minutes to use the bathroom one last time and get warmed up.

I jogged over to the Assembly Hall and headed for the bathroom. The line for the men’s room was out the door, but a guy coming out told me there was no line for the urinals. (The line for the women’s room was, of course, five times as long. The last half-hour before a race is one of those times when I am most grateful to be male and my heart goes out to the fairer sex.)

I headed outside again, where Fedex trucks were lined up to take our drop bags. I handed a volunteer my bag and pulled on my Walgreens hoodie. As I tried to zip it up, the zipper snapped off. Sigh. I stuck my hands in the pockets and held it closed as I jogged over to the start line.

One nice thing about the Illinois Marathon is that it starts 30 minutes before the half marathon, which makes for an uncrowded, more relaxed start area. Making my way back from the front, I passed the 3:30 pace group and saw Bob, a runner from St. Louis whom I know through dailymile but had never met in person. We chatted for a minute about – what else? – the weather, and then the Star-Spangled Banner began. So much for warming up. We wished each other good luck and I moved back, stopping between the 3:40 and 3:50 pacers, who were only about 20 feet apart. I threw my Walgreens hoodie onto the ground.

After the national anthem, there were a few brief speeches, including one by Frank Shorter, that I couldn’t really hear, and then we were off!

The Race

The First 10 Miles

With a little over 2,000 marathoners, I found myself pretty close to the front and made it to the first timing mat in less than a minute. I pressed the Start button on my Garmin and noticed that, despite having used the bathroom no more than 15 minutes earlier, I had to pee again. I decided to hold it as long as possible.

We were packed in pretty tight, with little room to pass or be passed, but I was lucky enough to find myself surrounded by people who were running at almost exactly my goal pace. The first three miles went by smoothly. I checked my Garmin when it beeped over the first few miles, and each mile came in right around 8:22 pace. I could see the 3:40 pacer about 15 feet ahead of me and made up my mind to keep him in sight as long as possible.

There were quite a few spectators out, mainly U of I students as the early part of the course goes through campus. I felt great, energetic but still relaxed. It was overcast and cool but not chilly, and the wind was still gentle. My nose wasn’t even running like it usually does at the start of a run on a cool morning, though I’d fished a Kleenex out of my belt just in case.

The only off-note was a strange, funky odor that I smelled on and off. Was it my own bad breath? I could’ve sworn that I’d brushed my teeth. I cupped my hand around my mouth and breathed out. No, it wasn’t me. Did someone around me have halitosis? Was I having olfactory hallucinations, and, if I was, did that mean something was wrong with my brain? I puzzled over this for a while, until I remembered where I was: in the middle of central Illinois farmland on a windy day. I was smelling manure. Ah, the Midwest! (Nana later told me that it was a nearby pig farm.)

We hit mile 4, and I took my first Honey Stinger with a few sips from a pinched cup of water. My effort level felt comfortable, my breathing was easy, I didn’t feel at all depleted, but I reminded myself that I was still, in all likelihood, burning glycogen. We were off campus now, running through residential streets in Urbana, and then, around mile 5, we hit the edge of town. Nothing but open fields, and the wind began to make its presence felt as we headed south for the next mile and a half. The pack still had not thinned out much, in large part because so many of us were clumped up behind the 3:40 pacer. I was now close enough to read the name on the back of his shirt, which was John. There were a number of other pacers in the 3:40 group with their names pinned on the backs of their shirts, but John was the one carrying the little sign and the only one talking to the group. I liked his style, which was more to encourage than cheerlead.

I had never managed to stick with a pace group before, but John was great, very consistent in his pacing. Our splits were not perfectly even in terms of time, but they felt even in terms of intensity. I found it relaxing to fall in behind him and not think about my pace or feel the need to check my Garmin, except to keep track of my hydration and fueling. At each aid station, I slowed down for a few steps to take a sip or two of water but never came to a stop. I noticed other runners stopping to drink and then sprinting ahead to catch up, burning precious glycogen to do so. I found that, if I increased my pace just a little, I’d catch back up to John and the front of the group in a minute or two, without cranking up my heart rate.

In the midst of the pack, one challenge I did experience was keeping up my cadence, instead of falling into the rhythm of the other runners around me. Whenever I noticed my stride slowing down and stretching out, I started counting in my head: 1-2-3-1-2-3, over and over, as quickly as possible. That simple cue was enough to remind me to keep my steps quick and light.

A little after mile 7, I noticed that we’d been running for about an hour, so I carefully got an S-Cap out of my belt and tore open another Honey Stinger, even though it was still a little early. I grabbed a cup of water at the next aid station, popped the S-Cap, and sucked down the gel. I’d only taken an S-Cap once before – during the GO! St. Louis Half Marathon I’d run a couple weeks earlier – but I figured not much could go wrong with some salt and potassium.

I took a moment to assess how my body felt: I still had to pee, of course, but my level of discomfort was manageable and holding steady, not increasing. My breathing was under control; I still felt well-fueled. My neck, shoulders, and arms felt good, relaxed. My legs were relaxed too, though I felt some tightness in my left shin that could have been the first sign of a cramp; if so, I hoped the S-Cap would nip it in the bud. My core was engaged, my back was straight and pain-free. All systems still go.

After the mile 8 marker, we entered Meadowbrook Park, which is mostly native pasture and the prettiest part of the course. The path through the park was, of course, much more narrow than the road, so we were soon packed in like sardines again. Our pace, however, remained steady. We came around a turn to find a band playing. They had written their name on a banner that was billowing in the wind: Shark Bandit (for real). I love music but I don’t run with music unless on the treadmill, but I have to say that Shark Bandit sounded pretty good, and there was a modest but definite surge of speed throughout the pack in response.

Mile 9 took us out of Meadowbrook Park and back up north, with the wind at our backs.

The Second 10 Miles

We returned to campus and turned west into Champaign for the second half of the course. The next few miles were uneventful. I took another Honey Stinger at mile 12. At mile 13, John told us that we were right on pace. The wind picked up from time to time but was not the constant torment I’d feared. We hit 2 hours a little after mile 14, and I took my second S-Cap. The tightness in my left shin never developed into anything significant. The only minor hiccup was at mile 16, where there was no aid station. I took my third Honey Stinger anyway, without water, because I did not want to risk my glycogen dipping beneath the point of no return. I still felt like I was running comfortably, though, and I even contemplated starting my push with 10 miles to go, but I calmed myself down and stuck with my plan to wait until mile 20.

Since the start, I had been looking forward to mile 17, where the race course came within a couple blocks of Nana’s house. I started looking for Jessica and our boys on the side of the road after the mile 16 marker. In addition to cheering me on, the boys had the very important job of giving me my last two Honey Stingers. I spotted them before they saw me, just before mile 17. I yelled and waved, but it must have been too noisy because they didn’t see me until I’d almost reached them. I slowed down as Jessica handed me a bottle of water and hustled the boys out of their strollers. Alexander handed me my fifth Honey Stinger and started to run beside me, but little Nicholas was caught off-guard. In one hand, he held an unwrapped stick of gum that he’d been about to pop in his mouth. He began running after me, digging his other hand in his pocket and yelling, “Daddy! I have something for you!” I ran back to him, kneeled down, and pulled the last Honey Stinger out of his pocket. Gels in hand, I took a swig of water, threw down the bottle, and yelled “Thank you!” over my shoulder as I started running again. I can say with certainty that there is no better feeling in the world than hearing your little boys shouting, “Go, Daddy, go!”

Miles 18 and 19 took us to the western edge of Champaign, back out into the cornfields, and then south, into the wind, which was only getting stronger. As we approached mile 20, John began to offer a bottle of salt pills to the runners around him, and quite a few people accepted. With the wind making us feel cool and drying our sweat, it would have been easy not to realize that you were dehydrated until it was too late. I was very glad that I’d followed my plan of drinking a little at every stop and taking one S-Cap per hour. I felt increasingly confident that I wasn’t going to hit the wall, and I began to prepare myself for the real race to begin.

The Last 10K

I took another Honey Stinger at mile 20 and began to increase my pace gradually. I wanted to thank John as I passed the group, but there were several runners between us. I thought it might be rude to yell across them, so I just kept going and did not look back.

I started passing people, many of whom were walking or shuffling along, clearly hurting. At mile 22, I took my third S-Cap. Around that time, one of the 3:40 pacers, a woman wearing New Balance Minimus Trails and a GO! St. Louis race shirt, caught up to me and then left me in her dust. Aside from her, I only recall being passed by a couple other runners, but I could be blocking some out. I am sure that I passed more than passed me, which boosted my confidence that I was going to finish strong and beat 3:40.

I also stopped checking the pace on my Garmin, which is a good thing because I would probably have been disheartened to see that I was not really running much faster. I could still hear John talking to the 3:40 group, not far behind me. My shins and then my quads felt like they were on the verge of cramping but, luckily, they never did.

As we approached the mile 26 marker, I could see Memorial Stadium in the distance. I started running as hard as I could. My breathing grew more ragged, but the true limiting factor was my legs, which felt heavier with each step. I fell in beside a guy in a bright yellow shirt. I passed him by a few strides, only to have him pass me a few seconds later. I stayed on his shoulder but did not have it in me to pass him again.

The final .2 miles took us south toward the Stadium, directly into those 40 mph gusts that the forecast had predicted. As I ran straight into the stiffest headwind I’ve ever experienced, I started cursing aloud at this final insult. The path was lined with spectators, including, to my surprise, my family. Fortunately, I spotted them before they could hear the obscenities coming out of my mouth (not that you could really hear anything over the howling wind). I yelled “Hi!” but didn’t slow down, for fear of grinding to a complete halt.

As we entered the tunnel that led to the football field and the finish line, someone ahead shouted back, “Don’t forget to look at yourself on the Jumbotron!”

I was still running on Yellow Shirt’s shoulder but, try as I might, I could not edge past him. I could sense another runner on my other shoulder but I think I managed to hold him off. With less than 100 feet to go, I was consoled by the “3:39:” on the big clock (my gun time was 3:39:17) and the knowledge that I was going to achieve my goal. As we crossed the finish line, I pressed Stop on my Garmin, ecstatic to see 3:38:44 and forgetting, of course, to look up at myself on the Jumbotron.

After the Race

I got my medal, drank two cups of Gatorade with another S-Cap, and then hobbled up the steps to the post-race food and drop bag retrieval area. It seems a bit cruel to make runners climb stairs after the race but, apparently, food is not allowed on the field. The lines for the food were ridiculous, so I just picked up my bag and then, at long last, went to the bathroom. (Would it be too much to ask for a separate food area just for the marathoners?) I went back out to the field, drank two more cups of Gatorade, and called Jessica. We agreed to meet at the registration area for the Youth Run, which was, of course, on the other side of the stadium. There was, at least, an open concession stand next to the registration area. I bought a soft pretzel with lots of salt.

I found Jessica, Nana, and the boys at the registration table, where we signed them both up for the Youth Run at 2 PM. After I got big hugs from my boys, we walked very slowly to Nana’s car, which they’d had to park almost two miles away from the Stadium. At least we got to walk back along the race course and cheer on the runners.

For my post-race meal, we went through the drive-through at Junior’s. I ordered a veggie burger with jalapenos and hot sauce (no, I’m not vegetarian, I’m just one of those Michael Pollan fanboys who no longer eats factory-farmed meat) and sweet potato fries. I devoured them back at Nana’s house, along with the rare treat of a Coke, which, I must say, was the most delicious high-fructose corn syrup I’ve ever tasted.

Conclusion

When the results came out, I was surprised to learn that I had run a (barely) negative split: 1:49:53 for the first half and 1:1:48:49 for the second. I also did a decent job of running the tangents. According to my Garmin, I ran a total 26.40 miles, a mere .2 miles over.

My average pace was 8:21/mile, one second faster than my goal pace. My pace for mile 26 was 8:04 and for the final .4 was 8:08, which counts as finishing strong in my book.

The race itself was, in many ways, just right, neither too crowded nor too sparse. The crowd support was also just right for my taste: not too much, not too little. The weather would have been perfect, but for the wind. I would definitely consider returning to Champaign when I’m ready for a BQ attempt.

All in all, I’m very pleased with how this race went. I trusted in my plan, I didn’t hit the wall, and I met my goal. What else can I ask for?

Note: This report has turned out to be pretty long, so thanks in advance for reading. Next time, I promise pictures and better editing.

I didn’t originally intend to run this race, because (a) it fell right at the start of training for my second marathon (the Illinois Marathon in Champaign-Urbana on April 30) and (b) it was the fourth of five races in the St. Louis Track Club’s annual Frostbite Series, which I had not entered. When I heard, however, that Jason and Raymond of the always-entertaining Geeks in Running Shoes podcast were running it, I thought it might be fun to meet them in person. Then, I learned that Jenny J, a friend of mine from dailymile, had entered the series and would be running too (even though it was only one week after the Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona Marathon, which she was also running), so I went ahead and registered.

My plan was to to run the race as my long run for Week 2 of my 16-week training schedule, which was supposed to be 15 miles at a pace of 9:07 min/mile. I would simply run that pace and then add on an extra 1.9 miles at the end. At least, that was my plan until I read this article by Matt Fitzgerald, in which he states that running a race early in a training cycle can be “potentially very beneficial” since “we can push ourselves harder in races than we can in any workout, and performance in peak races—those races where you truly want to be ready to perform at the highest level you’re capable of—is largely a function of how hard you’ve pushed yourself in the process leading up to those most important events. (Fitzgerald was talking specifically about Kara Goucher’s second-place finish at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona Half Marathon with a "bad” time of 1:14:02 that I, for one, will never come anywhere near achieving.) After I read the article, I said to myself, “What the hell?” I made up my mind to race, not just run, the 13.1 at my theoretical half-marathon pace of 8:02 min/mile and hope that I didn’t blow up before the end.

Quick aside on marathon training plans

In case you’re curious, I am using the Run Less, Run Faster marathon training plan, a.k.a., the FIRST plan. (If you’re not, feel free to skip ahead.)

The essence of FIRST is the 3plus training week. The 3 are 3 quality runs:

1. intervals to improve speed and economy
2. a tempo run to raise lactate threshold
3. a long run to build endurance

The plus2 is a minimum of 2 cross-training sessions, such as cycling or swimming. The mileage is relatively low, but the prescribed paces, which are based on your best 5K time, are tough. I ran my first 5K race, the Billiken 5K, back in September in 22:26, so that is what I’m using to determine all my training paces, as well as my goal marathon pace of 8:22 min/mile and my goal marathon time of 3:44.

I looked first at the usual suspects—Daniels' Running Formula and Advanced Marathoning— but decided that the mileage required by those plans was unrealistic for me in this training cycle. I finally settled on using a plan from Brad Hudson’s Run Faster from the 5K to the Marathon, got one week into it, and then realized that it too was too much / too complicated for me right now. When—not if but when!—I start getting into BQ territory, I will probably try out Run Faster again.

Pre-race

The night before, my wife Jessica and I ate my usual pre-race meal of Thai takeout from the King and I: papaya salad with sticky rice and green curry with shrimp, both “Thai hot 2.” (In addition to the standard mild/medium/hot, the King and I, like many Thai restaurants, offers an off-the-menu “Thai hot” scale of spiciness, from 1 to 5. We’ve never made it higher than Thai hot 2, which is mouth-scorching enough to require a chaser of whole milk.) Most people recommend eating bland food before a race, but I’m accustomed to spicy food, plus I eat a lot of rice with it, so this works for me. While we ate, we watched The Biggest Loser on Hulu and ended up going to bed too late, around 11.

The race started at 9 AM, so Jessica generously volunteered to let me sleep in. Unfortunately, I was woken by the racket made by our boys when they got up at 6, and, with all that race morning adrenaline, I was unable to fall back asleep. I got dressed, ate my usual breakfast of Traders Point wildberry yogurt (made from the milk of 100% grass-fed cows!) and Milk & Honey granola (the best granola in the world), had a cup of coffee, and started drinking water. The race was in Forest Park, which is about 20 minutes from my house, so I was still at home at 8, when Jason tweeted to let me know that the Geeks had arrived at the Forest Park Visitor Center, where we’d agreed to meet. I tweeted back that I was on my way and headed out the door. Outside, it was cold but not bitterly so, around 25°F, and the blue sky was almost cloudless.

(For the gearheads out there, here was my stylish ensemble: Saucony Kinvaras in ViZi-PRO; the Saucony Protection gloves that I won in a Running and Rambling giveaway, also in ViZi-PRO; long-sleeve, compression shorts, and tights, all from Thriv; RecoFit compression sleeves under the tights; Saucony Wascal cap; Drymax Cold Weather Running socks; Tifosi Pavé shades; this awesome Zoot running jacket; and my trusty Ultimate Direction FastDraw handheld. Yes, lots of Saucony gear. What can I say? They make good gear.)

The parking lot outside the Visitor Center was packed, as was the Visitor Center itself. I picked up my bib and then managed to locate Jenny and Jason, via text and tweet, respectively. After saying hi, I went downstairs to the locker room and stowed my stuff. I debated taking a GU (my favorite flavor: Espresso Love) but decided against it, since I was feeling hopped up enough as it was. I topped up my water bottle and headed upstairs. By this point, it was around 8:40.

I found poor Jenny stuck in a horrendous line for the ladies' room. She told me to go ahead and that she’d meet me at the start. I said OK and went outside. Jason, who had been just outside the front door, was gone, so I headed for the start. Halfway there, I caught up with Jason and a tall guy wearing a ski mask whom I presumed (correctly) was Raymond, and I wished them both happy birthday and good luck. (Jason’s birthday was the day of the race, and Raymond’s was the day before. It was also Raymond’s first race—not just first 13.1 but first race of any kind—and Jason’s second 13.1.)

We chatted near the back of the pack, until I spotted Jenny and introduced her to the Geeks. Jenny told us that the race was a gun time start, not a chip time start (the chips on the back of our bibs would be used only for finish time) and strongly suggested that we move to the front. I didn’t want to get trapped in the pack so I was happy to comply, but if I’d been thinking, this is where Jenny and I would have said goodbye to Jason and Raymond. They had smartly decided to start at the back but then succumbed to peer pressure and moved to the front, only to regret it later after going out too fast, a fact I learned by listening to their latest episode.

Sorry, guys. I should have stopped Jenny from dragging you along. I know she had good intentions. It was my fault. At least, we got that awesome group photo out of it. :)

Near the front, we met Brad, another dailymile friend of Jenny’s, and his friend Justin. Jenny roped the guy standing in front of us into taking the aforementioned photo, which became quite an involved process, thanks to the low sun that was first in the photographer’s eyes and then in ours. Shortly after, with no warning that I heard, the gun went off, and everyone started running.

The race

I fell in behind Justin, Brad, and Jenny. After a quarter mile or so, she told those guys to go ahead and they took off. I moved up alongside Jenny and asked her how she was doing. (As I mentioned above, Jenny had run the Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona Marathon the weekend before. What I did not mention is that she ran it in 3:40 and change, fast enough to qualify for Boston! So what was she doing here, a mere week later, running another 13.1? The only answer to this question is that Jenny is hardcore, a fact to which any of her dailymile friends will attest.) She said that her legs were a little tired but that she was doing well.

We checked our Garmins for our pace and saw that we were hovering just above 8:00 min/mi pace, which was near where I wanted to be (and hoped to stay until the end). Overall, I felt really good: my cadence was fast, my steps light, my heart rate easy, and I was able to chat with Jenny comfortably. As someone who runs alone 99% of the time, having some company was a welcome change.

The course was a double loop that was actually four out-and-backs: the first and third heading west from the Visitor Center, past the Grand Basin, and then back; the second and fourth heading east from the Visitor Center, circling down to the Muny parking lot, and then back. The Grand Basin portion of the loop is about 2 miles and flat; the Muny portion is about 4 and significantly more hilly.

On our way back from the first turnaround, Jenny and I saw Jason and Raymond, who appeared to be in high spirits. We also noticed that the course seemed to be off, on the long side, when our Garmins auto-lapped about a hundred feet before the second mile marker. The pack had thinned out quickly, and we ran along in a comfortable rhythm. After passing the Visitor Center heading east, we entered the hilly portion of the course. One woman kept leapfrogging us on the downhills and looking back over her shoulder. Jenny whispered that she wanted to beat her. (By the end of the race, Jenny had, of course, befriended the woman, making plans to go running together, even as she beat her to the finish.)

I drank a couple sips from my handheld about every mile and took a GU around mile 5, before I felt like I needed it. On the uphills, I slowed a little, shortening my already short steps and focusing on keeping my cadence steady, repeating the mantra, “Easy and light, easy and light” (with all due respect to Caballa Blanco). Jenny, in contrast, powered up the hills ahead of me. On the downhills, I let gravity do the work so that my heart rate could settle down a little, leaning forward slightly and concentrating on moving my feet quickly beneath me, a technique I learned from Ken Mierke’s Evolution Running DVD. I tried not to brake at all as I descended. My mantra on the downhills was, “Recover, recover, recover.”

The Muny portion of the course has a total elevation gain of around 57 feet (significantly less than Heartbreak Hill’s 88 feet), spread across four or five ascents, depending on how you count them. None of them are horribly steep or long, but they do take their toll, and I did not look forward to seeing them again. As we approached the Grand Basin, I asked Jenny how she was doing. She said her legs were feeling tired and that I could go ahead if I wanted. I took a moment to assess how I felt, concluded that I was holding up pretty well and that a PR was in my grasp. I told Jenny that I was going to go at the turnaround, which was around mile 8. She said, “You can go now.”

I said, “OK, thanks, see you at the finish” (or something like that) and started to push, passing the lady with whom we’d been playing leapfrog one last time. From this point on, I slowly but steadily passed people ahead of me. I’m not sure how many, though it wasn’t a lot. I do remember at least two guys passing me over the last 5 miles. I tried to stay with the first guy for a little while, before saying to myself, “Let him go.” A few minutes later, the same thing happened with the second guy. I’m glad that I did, given how I felt by the end of the race.

At some point, I passed the Geeks again, who greeted me with a loud cry of “YOOOOOONNNN!” that made me smile. Raymond gave me a high-five that almost spun me around, thanks to our collective and opposing speeds.

I took my second GU at mile 10, which is roughly when the hills began to hurt. My heart rate and breathing were faster and harder, but it was mainly my legs that were feeling heavy and fatigued. It took all of my concentration to keep my strides short and quick, instead of long and plodding. Around mile 13 (as measured my Garmin), I’d hit my limit and my pace began to fall, despite my best efforts. The finish, it seemed, would never come. Since the loop was only a little over six miles (by their accursed measurements), the race organizers added on the extra distance at the end. To finish, we ran past the Visitor Center and onto a bike path that circled around the playground to the west of the Visitor Center, ending at the Visitor Center’s rear entrance. The final 0.1 was, of course, icy and slightly uphill. As I crossed the finish line, I registered 1:46:something on the big clock.

Post-race

A little way past the finish, I saw Brad and Justin, said hi and congrats (they had both run well, 1:40 and 1:44, respectively, I think), and then realized that I’d forgot to stop my Garmin. When I did, it showed 1:46:35 for 13.28 miles.

At some point in the final few miles, I’d decided that I wanted to break 1:45, so I wasn’t overjoyed at first. Then, it sank in that I’d set a new PR by over 9 minutes, and I felt satisfied. My previous PR had been 1:56:03, set at the St. Louis Track Club Half-Marathon in November of 2009, which was my first race and only half-marathon before this one.

The Frostbite Series is a budget production, as you’d expect with a $15 registration fee per race, so the only food and drink available were animal crackers, pretzels, and water. I still had a little water left in my bottle, so I didn’t bother. Jenny finished about 2 minutes later, which is humbling since she was—let me repeat—one week out from running a BQ marathon.

Brad and Justin headed off for a 1-mile cool-down. I, however, did not run the last 1.9 of my planned 15. Instead, I got my stuff from my locker and gave Jenny a ride home. On the way back to my house, I ate three Clif Shot Bloks and the last few sips from my bottle, which I had forgotten to refill. At home, I drank a big glass of Nuun and changed into some clean sweats. I was too hungry to shower before eating, so Jessica rounded up the boys and we headed out to Stellina Pasta Café. We had the hummus and olive plate with fresh-baked pita, a bowl of lentil soup, capellini with shrimp and arugula in a white wine sauce (with just a touch of cream), and whole-wheat walnut fettucini with fresh mozzarella and snow peas. Everything was delicious.

Final thoughts

My official time was 1:46:14 (average pace of 8:07, a little slower than my goal pace, so I choose to believe my Garmin’s average pace of 8:01), which put me at #15 of 42 in the 35-39 age group and #124 of 479 overall.

I am happier now with how this race went than I was immediately after finishing, for a few reasons:

First, it was what I would call my first real PR, since 13.1 is the only distance I’ve raced more than once (excluding my two 5K’s, the second of which was more of a cross-country race, run on snow and ice in Tower Grove Park).

Second, I ran more-or-less negative splits: 8:12, 8:07, 7:56, 8:14, 8:13, 7:59, 7:50, 7:48, 8:10, 7:38, and 7:51. The wheels came off in the final 0.28, which I ran in 2:21, at an 8:23 pace. It does make me wonder if I should have gone out faster, but I realize that it’s just as possible that I would have fallen apart earlier, if I had.

Third, I felt like my form was sound throughout the race. It was a real mental challenge to stay sharp and keep my form from breaking down, but I feel like I did pretty well, even at the end when my legs felt like they were grinding to a halt. My average cadence as measured by my Garmin footpod was 174, a little shy of the 180 that most sources say is optimal. (Speaking of form, I highly recommend the Evolution Running DVD. Its production values are on the cheap side, but it is short and sweet and gave me some simple, sound principles that have enabled to improve my form substantially. McDougall quotes Ken Mierke, Evolution’s creator, at length in Born to Run.)

Fourth, I didn’t train specifically for this race or taper for it. The week before, I had run my intervals and tempo run as planned. This makes me optimistic about the progress I can make over the next 14 weeks leading up to my true peak race, the Illinois Marathon.

Thanks to Jenny for running with me, and big congrats to Jason, who set a new PR, and Raymond, who finished his first half-marathon. For another take on this race, check out the report Jason posted on his blog.

Welcome to my first race report ever!

Pre-race

I registered for this race a while ago but thought I was going to have to skip it because of family scheduling difficulties. Luckily, we worked things out this morning, and my wife gave me the green light to race!

Last weekend, we got about 3 inches of snow here in St. Louis, and it has been cold this week: in the 20’s and low 30’s. It has been just warm enough to melt the snow partially in the afternoon and then freeze the snowmelt into a sheet of ice overnight. In fact, on Thursday morning, I slipped on the ice outside my garage, spraining my left wrist and bruising my left hip.

This morning, it was sunny, cold (21 degrees at 8 AM), but not windy. I never picked up my race number this week since I wasn’t expecting to race, so I jogged from my house to the race start at the Sons of Rest shelter in Tower Grove Park around 8:15. The woman who gave me my race number told me that they had to change the course because the roads and paths were too icy. Instead, we would be running on the grass, which was still mostly covered in snow.

I ran back home to change my shoes, from ViziPro Kinvaras to New Balance MT101’s, since I thought they would do better on the snow and grass.

On my way back to the start, I realized that I had forgotten my HR monitor strap and my sunglasses, but I didn’t want to turn back. At least I had on my Saucony Wascal hat to keep the sun out of my eyes.

At about 8:50, they announced that the actual start would be in a field near the corner of Arsenal and South Grand, so everyone began to proceed in that direction, assembling behind a line that someone had made in the snow with his or her shoe, from the look of it. Then, there was another announcement that the start line was, in fact, further ahead. We had been at the top of a small hill; now, we jogged down to the bottom of it.

Tower Grove Park is full of rolling hills (mostly small ones, thankfully) and trees. The ground is uneven, and there are lots of tree roots to trip you up, plus random small holes in the ground and assorted acorns and nuts scattered everywhere. Add an inch or two of ice-crusted snow throughout, and you have the makings of a fun run.

I lined up a few rows behind the skinny, hardcore-looking guys and girls who were still wearing shorts and singlets. (For the record, I was wearing tights, two shirts (a short-sleeve and a long-sleeve) under my new Zoot WRKS XOtherm jacket, the new Saucony ViziPro Protection gloves that I won in a giveaway from Running and Rambling (thanks again, Don!), and my Wascal hat. After warming up during the jog from home, back home, and back again, I was plenty warm. I probably only needed one shirt.)

The guy with the bullhorn told us, “If you’ve never run a cross-country race, congratulations, because you’re about to.”

With that, he said, “Ready, set, go,” and we were off.

The race

“Not sure about this,” I heard a woman say as we ran the first 500 feet or so, which were, of course, uphill. I was right there with her. Running on the snow and grass was tough, a little easier than running on sand but not by much.

My goal was to keep a steady pace, hard but not so hard that I fell apart. I had originally thought I might beat my time of 22:26 from the Billiken 5K in September, which was my first and only 5K until today, but that seemed unlikely given the course change. I also resolved not to look at my Garmin until the end.

As we reached the top of the hill, my breathing and heart rate felt fast but not off the chart. On the downhills, my plan was to ease off enough to recover a little but also to keep my feet moving fast and let gravity carry me down, à la Evolution Running. By the bottom of that first hill, I fell into a rhythm that had me passing people at a reasonable rate. One guy wearing what looked like basketball shoes, as well as his swag backpack, flew by me. I thought he was going too fast, and that proved to be the case a little while later.

The pack began to thin out as we started up the next hill. The course was marked by orange cones and lined by a small number of spectators and volunteers who must have been freezing. To keep me honest, I looked for someone to chase. I saw a woman in all black who was steadily passing people ahead of me. I decided to try and stay with her.

From this point, I just concentrated on keeping my steps fast and light, keeping up with the woman in black, and not slipping on the snow or tripping over a root or stepping into a hole hidden under leaves and/or snow. Without thinking, I glanced at my Garmin but looked away before registering anything other than the time, which was 9:57. Not even halfway there, I thought. Ouch. Fortunately, my pace—whatever it was—did not turn out to be too aggressive. I was in pain, but it was a steady pain, not a spiraling agony. Using the downhills to recover and letting myself slow a bit on the uphills seemed to be working.

The woman in black and I were still passing a few people but only a few, and a few people passed us both. After what I estimated to be about 2 miles, the woman in black stumbled over something. I asked her if she was OK. She nodded and kept going. A few hundred feet later, she stumbled again and recovered again. Another runner asked her if she was OK. She said, “Yeah. We must be close, right?”

I checked my Garmin and yelled out, “2.6! Less than… uh, half a mile left!” At this point, the woman in black faded, and I passed her.

From the look of it, the last half mile was all uphill. I decided it was time to feel the hurt, so I set my sights on a guy about 20 feet in front of me and pushed. I didn’t manage to speed up but most people were slowing down, so I managed to catch and pass him. As we crested the final hill, I spotted another guy who looked like he was running out of steam. As I came even with him, though, he picked it up and beat me out over the last .1, which was mercifully downhill.

As I passed the finish line, I caught a glimpse of the clock, which I thought read 25:something, and, of course, I forgot to stop my Garmin.

Post-race

Overall, I’m happy with my race. I didn’t keep count but I think I passed more than I got passed. The course, though advertised as flat, was basically all rolling hills, small ones (40-45 feet of elevation gain) but still hills. The terrain was a challenge for me, as a relatively inexperienced runner who never ran cross-country and has never run on trails (except for one ill-fated run in VFF’s at Queeny Park that left me with an injured Achilles tendon). I checked my Garmin at home, and it looks like I started walking at 24:20, so I’m not sure what my official time will be. (There was no chip timing at this race.) The race felt much harder than 8:00 pace, which is not too surprising, given the course.

Most important, it was fun! This was only the fifth race I’ve ever run, and I definitely want to race more often. The course also made me want to do some real trail running; I need to make it out to Castlewood one of these days. Thanks to Ghisallo Running for putting on a great race!

At the finish, there were cases of Vitamin Water and Gatorade jugs but no cups in sight, so I grabbed a Vitamin Water, even though I’m not a big fan of the stuff. I strained in vain to open it until I realized that it was frozen solid. I found another one that was not frozen and, thanks to my sprained left wrist, barely managed to get it open. I wanted to get my official time but had to get home, so I took a few sips and jogged back.

When I got to my block, I hopped onto the sidewalk and promptly slipped on the ice, falling on my ass. Naturally, I landed on my right side, but I don’t appear to have sprained my right wrist in addition to my left, which is a relief.

UPDATED: Ghisallo posted the official race results. My time was 24:16, 33rd of 377 finishers, 8th of 37 in the 30-39 age group. (Strangely, my overall place is listed as 35th in the age group results, but I choose to believe that 33rd is correct.)

My wife is a dermatology resident, so I have become religious about wearing sunscreen, a hat, and sunglasses when outdoors, even in winter.

When I first started running two years ago, in November, I wore an old Pearl Izumi beanie that I found in a drawer. It kept my ears warm, but I didn't like the sun shining directly on my face.

So last winter, I took to wearing my Headsweats running hat (which has a bill like a baseball cap) on top of a cheap headband that covered my ears. That combo improved the sun exposure situation but it was too thin to keep me very warm.

 

(I did try out a Mizuno Breath Thermo Cap, which is essentially a baseball cap with fold-down ear-warmers. Unfortunately, it was just too tight on my big head. Also, the ear-warmers fold inside the hat, which made it even tighter and, for me, completely unwearable.)

Now that winter has arrived again in St. Louis, I decided to look for another hat and came across the Saucony Wascal Cap II at Running Warehouse.

Like the Mizuno, the Wascal has attached ear-warmers that--unlike the Mizuno--fold out, not in. In the folded-up position, the Wascal looks like an Elmer Fudd-style hunting cap, which is presumably how they came up with the name: "wascal" as in "wascally wabbit." (I do like the fact that Saucony had a sense of humor when naming this product.)

The Wascal is made of thick, soft fleece, and it is much roomier than the Mizuno, fitting my head perfectly. It's adjustable in the back, so I suspect it would fit most people comfortably.

It felt warm when I put it on, but the real test would come when running. So far, I have worn the Wascal on four runs (two 6-milers, a 7-miler, and a 10-miler) in pretty chilly temperatures (low 30's last week, mid-20's this week), and it has done a fantastic job of keeping (a) my head and ears warm and (b) the sun out of my face.

After today's 10-miler, my fingers felt frozen stiff inside my gloves but my head felt fine, even though I sweat a lot. The Wascal couldn't keep me completely dry, of course, but it did a great job of wicking away the excess sweat, so much so that the exterior of the hat was covered with moisture after each run (not sure how well you can see it in the picture below). Even though my hair was soaked with sweat, my head never felt cold while running. 

 

Does it make me look like a dork? Yes (see below), but I don't care as long as my head is warm.

(Note: I bought this hat with my own money.)

 

Don at Running and Rambling is giving away a pair of sweet VivoBarefoot Evo II minimalist running shoes!

He also wrote a nice, detailed review of the shoes and posted a 20% off coupon code, in case you don’t win. Awesome.

I do most of my running in Forest Park, which is great since it
happens also to be one of my favorite places in St. Louis. It is a
wonderful place to run: beautiful, well-maintained, and over 50%
larger than Central Park in NYC.

Another nice thing about it is that there's a locker room in the
basement of the Forest Park Visitor's Center, where I rent a locker
and change. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I always see the same group of
retired guys who run together. I say "hello" and "have a good one" to
them, and vice versa, but we never talked more than that, until today,
when two of them asked me my name and introduced themselves as Wylie
and Frank.

In the course of chatting about the weather--cold and windy--and where
they ran and where I ran, Frank told me that he and his friends had
been out running for about an hour and 20 minutes and that they'd
covered about 7 miles. That's pretty remarkable since Frank looks to
be in his late 60's or possibly early 70's.

I asked Frank how often they run, and he said four times a week, on
Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.

I asked him how long they'd be running in Forest Park, and he told me
that some of them had been running together for *thirty* years.

Thirty years! I find that amazing.

Also, Frank was wearing a shirt from the 2009 St. Louis Half-Marathon
(the first race I ever ran, as it happens) as he told me this.

I sincerely hope that, 30 years from now, I will be running 7 miles, 4
times a week, and racing half-marathons.

So the next time someone tells me that all that running is going to
ruin my knees and give me arthritis, I may admit that it's a
possibility but I will also think of Frank and Wylie and say, "I'll
take my chances."

You might not think of running as a suspenseful activity. At the elite level, of course, there is the suspense of seeing who wins the race--be it a 100m sprint or a marathon--but, for your average runner, you might think that running is the opposite of suspenseful, i.e., predictable to the point of boredom. After all, it's just putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again.

In my two years of running, however, I have experienced lots of suspense, in several forms.

With every run, there is the suspense of finding out how your body will respond when you force it to move fast: Will your legs feel heavy or light? Will your lungs burn or will you breath easy? Will your heart behave itself or will it threaten to explode? If you start off feeling good, will the feeling last? If you start off in pain, will it ever subside? Will you feel like quitting halfway through or never stopping?

Then, there is the minor suspense of finding out whether the little decisions you made before you even started to run were the right ones: Will I be too hot in what I'm wearing? Or too cold? Should I have brought water, or did I bring enough? Or should I have brought Gatorade instead? What about gel? And so on.

These types of suspense are heightened to a fever pitch on race day, which is, of course, when the long-term suspense that has been building over weeks and weeks of training reaches its peak: Did I train too hard or not hard enough? Can I finish? Can I PR? Can I BQ?

The run, of course, will not keep you in suspense. The run will answer all your questions. You may not like the answers you get, but the suspense will be over, at least, for a little while.

Sometimes, after the run, there comes a different kind of suspense, along the lines of: Will that little twinge in my calf (or foot or ankle or knee) disappear by morning? If it doesn't, you will ask: Can I run on it or should I rest? Is that pain just normal soreness or an injury?

Then, of course, when you do run--even though you're not absolutely sure it's a good idea--you feel fine ... until the run is over. The pain, which had faded almost (but not) completely, is back and worse than before, and the suspense builds anew: Will I be OK tomorrow? Or did I just set myself back another day, another week?

This is also the time of year when you may wake up with a lump in your throat, a clogged or dripping nose, or a sensation of thickness in your lungs, and you find yourself in yet more suspense: Should I take it easy or keep running? Are my symptoms above the neck, or below it, or both? What if they are smack dab in the middle of my neck? Can I run then? Will a run make me worse or better?

These are the types of suspense that have been most on my mind lately. I tweaked my left calf while running intervals last Thursday, re-tweaked it with a premature run on Monday, and then--just as my calf began to feel better--succumbed to a virus that gave me a sore throat on Tuesday, pink eye on Wednesday, and a full-blown chest cold on Thanksgiving.

The suspense I'm in now is the worst kind and can be summed up in one question:

When can I run again?