Keeping Pace

Keeping Pace

In search of my happy pace

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Two days ago, I toe’d the line for the first running event in 12 years. Although I have done several OCR races, the courses were so technical and challenging that there was not a lot of running involved — especially once I teamed up to support my brother earn his trifecta. Although, during the height of the pandemic, I ran a couple virtual running races (5k and 10k), nothing required the same amount of preparation as this half marathon race.

My training was pretty consistent, although I often caught myself judging it otherwise. I stuck to the training plan mileage, and resorted to hiking when my body would not allow me to run comfortably. By the taper time, it was clear that I would not be even close to keeping up with my 23 year old son, Ryan (aka YaYa). If I am being honest, the clear separation in abilities took a lot of pressure off of me. I could now run my own race and see if I could finally find my long-lost “happy pace.”

The race course had us running in circles through downtown, passing one another in the areas where the course backtracked along the same streets. These sort of race courses are not my favorites; they’re akin to cruel mind game in my opinion. Nonetheless, I was able to high-five Ryan as he passed me going the opposite direction.

Ryan looked good, which had me feeling good in a proud mom sort of way. At this point in the race, I felt alone in a crowd. The other racers talked amongst themselves or not at all. I made an effort to greet and thank the police, volunteers, and spectators — which was positive for everyone involved. 

Once we hit mile 6, the looping and zigzagging portion of the race was done and we were now headed in the right direction. I tried to pick up my pace a bit to see if I could make up some time. At least, in my head, I was going faster. In reality, I was pretty consistent in my 12ish minute per mile pace (minus the 5 minutes in the port-o-potty at mile 10). And as the race wore on, my fellow racers seemed a lot more open to a little friendly chatter.

In the final mile or two, my spirits were high but the muscle fatigue was really wearing me down — most especially my hip flexors. I slowed to a walk every now and again, reaching my interlaced hands up towards the skies in an attempt to lengthen the front of my body as well as my spine.

Once that finish line was in view, I dug deep to access everything I had left in me to sprint towards the finish. As I got closer, I looked ahead to see the photographer peering down to view the last of the images he’d taken. I raised my hands, smiled wide, and yelled, “Take my picture.” Everyone around laughed out loud including the announcer as he broadcasted, “Welcome to the finish, Julie Fergus.”

I did it. At least on this day, I found my happy pace. Stay tuned for what’s up next.

Nothing to Prove

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I have been thinking about a woman that I met around Mile 19 of Napa Valley Marathon (2005). Her name was Marion. She was 58 years old and running her 97th marathon. That day, I wasn’t the only one struggling. Marion’s father had recently passed, and she was dealing with a foot injury. But she was motivated to finish as she had a goal to run her the San Francisco Marathon as her 100th marathon. On that Spring day, this lady showed me how to dig deep and just keep on moving.

Now, seventeen years later, her words still motivate me to keep steady and “just put one foot in front of the other.” I’ve done my training: logging the miles, cross training, getting adequate rest, and eating right. On Sunday, I will toe the line once again and run my 1st race in 11 years.

My mantra for race day is:

Nothing to prove. ” 

 

 

Lacing up

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With less than 12 weeks until race day, half marathon training has officially begun. I wish I could say that all my pre-training preparation has set me up to slide right into my training schedule without much discomfort. But it hasn’t gone as easily as smoothly as I’d envisioned.

But, who’s judging? Certainly, not me.

Nope. I am simply assessing and evaluating. My conclusions are not huge eye openers. In fact, the younger Juls would not have been surprised by the added challenge of how I have taken on my runs. For example: Week 1 of my training began with three 3-mile training runs. One of these runs was to be done at a quicker “race” pace than I have been used to doing. I did these runs during my lunch break because, well I didn’t want to give up my morning yoga practice nor did I want to run in the dark. However, my body struggled with the hotter than usual weather this past week.

While I will likely continue to do my work-week training runs on my lunch hour, I will lace up and head out with a better idea of what I can expect on the road ahead. With any luck, my body will start to remember what it was like to run with ease. And maybe, just maybe, it will let go of the extra 15 pounds that it has refused to drop.

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Non-judgement

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Half marathon training doesn’t officially start until January 31st (12 weeks before race day). However, I have been making an effort to find my running (read: jogging) legs again. My return to running has been slow to come and I am making a concerted effort to stop any self-bashing patterns before it shows up. Actually, it’s more than that; I am trying to not judge or compare my performance to anyone (even my old running self).

It’s easier said than done.

It took quite some time to get out the door to run today even though I was dressed and ready to go at least 30 minutes beforehand. Trying to psych myself up for the 3 miles I had planned, I tried to imagine myself running through the ‘hood with a sense of lightness and free from discomfort. I could see it — to some extent — I just couldn’t get my mind to believe it. So, I kept putting off leaving the house.

Out of excuses, I finally made my way outside. Before hitting the pavement, I did a couple planks and a few other core stabilizing exercises. This may not have been necessary but I wanted to convince my mind that I truly was ready to go. After each mile, I walked for 1 minute before starting again. I would have walked a bit sooner to let cars go ahead of me but the drivers all seemed to be extra accommodating today. This even cut one of my walk breaks short as I didn’t want to hold anyone up for me to walk across the street. However, in this final mile, I broke down a walked several times in that mile.

In the end, my splits actually look better than I thought they would [Mile 1 (11:37); Mile 2 (13:05); Mile 3 (12:08)] — which reinforces the approach of practicing non-judgement when it comes to my journey back to running regularly.

Spartan Sprint (San Jose)

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After a 41 day period of holding back in everything I was doing before my injury, race day was a little like coming to the end of Lent. My brother (Robert) and Lil Sis (Carol) arrived at Diablo Grande ready to take on the 4 mile (21 obstacle) course. It was a cool but sunny day and we were grateful that it was not the blistering cold we had experienced the morning of our volunteer shift.

After checking in at the volunteer registration table, we found a sunny place to prepare for the race – securing our headbands, timing chips, and start wrist bands. We checked our bags, emptied our bladders, did a mini stretch and warm up and reconnected with Jen & George.

When our start time was called, we made our way to the start, hopping the low wall into the coral. The plan was to walk, not jog or run, the entire course to preserve Robert’s knees…and my newly healed hip. So when the gun went off, I did a slow jog out of the way then reconnected with Robert and Carol after the crowd had passed. Soon after, we hit the Overwalls and Rolling Mud. After that, the trail turned to the right, avoiding the steep hill I experienced last year. It was a short walk before we arrived at the 6’ Wall. All three of us managed to get over on our own.

The Herc Hoist was next, followed by the Multi-Rig (All Rings for the Sprint). Then came the Hurdles. After each trying to hop up to the pointy crest, Carol and I helped each other over the lot before we went on to the Atlas Carry. Remembering the technique of rolling the stone from the ground up one bent knee then across the other raised knee, I managed to lift mine off the ground without my back taking the brunt of it. It was a nice change for me.

The three of us met up and walked to the Rope Climb. Much to my disappointment, my proficiency at pinching the rope with my feet had suffered with all of my training focus having been on the Monkey Bars and healing my hip. I got two-thirds of the way up the rope before my arms began shaking from doing all of the work. I opted not to push my luck and took my 1st thirty Penalty Burpees. I was joined by Robert and Carol.

We walked a bit before hitting the Bucket Carry. This has never been a favorite, but I picked up my bucket with hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as the last time. The hill we carried our loads up and then down was steep. I focused on firming my core and pelvis as I made my way and I had to stop a number of times to give my back a break or let the crowd ahead thin out so that I could choose my path of preference. This was important as it was hard to see over my bucket on the way downhill. Robert and Carol waited for me to finish before we climbed the next hill.

We arrived at the Spear Throw next. I set up my throw, aimed at the target, but somehow managed to hit my pack and head with the spear at the end of my throw. Thirty more Burpees for me…and Carol. But Robert hit it straight on. He went ahead of us towards the [uphill] Barbed Wire Crawl – which was lower to the ground than other races.

Much to my surprise, I earned my final 30 Penalty Burpees on the Z Wall. This obstacle, although challenging, has generally be doable for me. However, it seemed that my new orthotics, in doing their job of keeping my foot arches supported, also kept my feet from moving to the front of my shoe. After making the critical turn, I slipped off as the front of the shoe gave way on the foothold.

The Vertical Cargo, Plate Drag, and Sandbag Carry came next. The three of us stayed together for a sibling photo opp at the end of the Sandbag Carry and again on the A-Frame Cargo net.

When we arrived at the Monkey Bars, the moment of truth was finally upon me. Here I would find out if all of my training efforts were enough. After removing my water pack, I took a deep breath and began my journey across. The bars were big around making it harder to stay on top of the handhold; I had to readjust my grip a few times as I made my way across. The closer to success, the more determined I was not to let all of my efforts go without a fight.

Once on the final bar, I paused as I tried to judge my final swing for the bell. My hand-eye coordination has never been a strong point. I hadn’t practiced this part of the obstacle and feared I would swing and miss. The bell was a bit further away than I would have liked. I had to swing harder than ever in order to reach it. Thankfully, I managed to hit it before swinging myself right off the bar.

We finished off the race with the Dunk Wall, Slip Wall, and Inverted Wall – then crossed the finish together.

Next up: Spartan Super Monterey (actually Salinas) in June.

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