As anyone who has heard me talk about running knows, I HATE hills. My High School XC coach just had a piece of her soul rip out, but lets be real. Hills are the worst! Yes, practicing on them make you a stronger runner. Yes, powering up them gets them over faster and keeps your race on pace. But really.... there are very few things in life I know for a fact I will hate every time, and thats big rolling hills for mile after long, draining mile. And the race organizers at the Baltimore 10-miler seemed to be out on a mission to break me down.
The morning started off great. My mom and I crashed at the race hotel just off of Johns Hopkins University's campus. I woke up at 5:30, showered (a race ritual), braided my hair, and hopped in the car. We got to the Baltimore Zoo around 6:30, hung around the car for about 15 minutes, before heading towards the start line. And thats where my frustrations began. After a mile and a half of walking (I guess we can't say I didn't warm up) we finally made it to the start line. As most runners do, I went to find a port-o-potty before the race -- just in case :). Well, at 2 minutes til start, I still hadn't used the john, was a 1 minute jog from the start line, and an impossible number of people away from meeting up with my pace group.
I started the race back with the 1:35 pace group. While this is a great pace for anyone to aim for, I was out for a personal best. In March, I ran a 1:24:15 at the Frederick Rescue Mission 10-miler, and knew I had put in a lot of really great miles between then and now. I wanted a PR, and I wanted it bad.
The first mile, I pushed myself extremely hard. I wanted to catch -- and pass -- the 1:25 pace group, which was the group I was aiming to start the race with. About 3/4 of a mile in, I caught them. And passed them, and didn't see them again for the rest of the race.
At mile 2, my mental facilities started to weaken. I was tired, exhausted from a long work week and a stressful week of Masters work as well. I actually thought of stopping, walking, and maybe not finishing the race. I wasn't in the zone, but knew that if I just picked a couple of runners and stuck with them for a few minutes, I could hold on, and bring myself back.
By mile 3, I was feeling good, boosted by an unexpectedly fast pace of 7:58. While this wouldn't last (though I hope one day I can get there), it gave me the energy to push through the next mile and a half of flat -- some may say boring -- terrain around the city lake. A woman in roller blades dancing to what I have to assume was really great music glided along us runners as we circled the lake. She provided a great reprieve from the growing internal fight I was having with myself about my pace and my ability to finish strong.
When I was new to the game of distance running (read, longer than a High School XC course), I never, and I mean never, would take nutrition or liquid during competition. After I realized this was actually crazy, I began spacing out my liquid intake to roughly every 2-3 miles, depending on distance, heat, and current physical condition. I didn't realize how dehydrated I was during the Baltimore race, but I found myself craving liquid between every station. As soon as I got that cup in my hand, a weight lifted off my shoulder, and I was boosted for the next few minutes.
At mile 8, the true challenge presented itself. A beast of a hill, one that wound itself, snaking up to the Zoo and the finish line, teasing us with a view of the festival celebrations, but torturing us with its merciless accent. My legs were screaming. I could feel the lactic acid building up, a sign I had pushed myself hard, but a warning sign that my end was quickly approaching, whether I made it to the finish or not. Behind me, the familiar English accent of my favorite pace group leader boomed. That was my sign. I couldn't let the 1:25 group pass me. I knew if I kept them behind me, I would surely PR, since I started behind them.
Three quarters of a mile to go. We flatten out. The road winds around a sharp turn and we head down hill. I pick up my pace, open my stride, expand my lungs, and push to the finish -- with a huge smile across my face.
1:23:35
A new PR. A new success story in the face of running adversary. I new accomplishment that continues my extremely successful racing year so far.
