The last few years have felt like a blur of chasing down big goals. Big in terms of lofty and in terms of mileage. Ironman and Boston have sucked all the oxygen (and sleep and happy hours and healthy relationships – with humans and food) out of my schedule. On the heels of a second BQ at the Philly Marathon end of 2017, and with my new spot on the Rev3 Triathlon team – meaning easy access to all the great Rev3 races – I decided to make 2018 a year of shorter, faster goals.
It’d been a few years since I’d run 13.1 miles without first swimming 1.2 and biking 56, and I’d never had a half marathon goal race, so this was all new and exciting. I felt like I couldn’t help but PR as my personal best 13.1 time – 1:41:24, set at Rock n Roll DC in 2015 – didn’t feel representative at all of my abilities. I wanted to run a sub-1:40 and was excited to set my record straight on this distance. I was also excited to improve upon my swimbikerun half marathon abilities as I’ve never turned in a strong run leg in a 70.3 despite the run being unequivocally my strongest discipline. With all those Rev3 races scheduled for this summer I really wanted to fix this, so I had high hopes for Rock n Roll DC – my first of several half marathons planned for the spring.
Half marathon training was a lot of fun. Marathon training means two and three hour long runs focused on slower sustaining efforts. (Or Josh’s sick favorite: 90 minutes in the morning and 90 in the afternoon!) Ironman training means the same thing plus hours upon hours in the saddle. Compared with all the multi-hour long runs, 80 to 90 minutes per “long run” felt so much more approachable. Marathon/Ironman training eats up your whole weekend; half marathon training leaves you plenty of free time to reaquaint yourself with the people you neglected while pursuing longer distances. Marathon/Ironman training is lots of slow, baseline fitness-building runs; half marathon training lets you open up the speed a little more. And half marathon training doesn’t turn you into the bottomless-bellied voracious eat-all-the things hangry monster that marathon/Ironman training does. All told, it was a nice change of (literal and figurative) pace for the winter months.
Race day was Saturday March 10th – I love a Saturday race – so I carved out some time mid-day on Friday the 9th to metro out to the Expo at the Stadium Armory on the east side of DC. It’s an easy ride from my office and my schedule was flexible that day so I was able to go early and beat the crowds. I also thought I would beat the mad rush to buy all the cute things but no, evey adorable piece of race merch was sold out of my itty bitty human size by the time I got there. I was bummed because there was some seriously cool DC-centric swag and I love to rep my city.
I ran into tri-bestie Chris and one of his colleagues while there and we got to catch up a bit which was nice. I don’t get to see him as much when I’m not weighing him down on long Ironman-prep rides along the W&OD trail every summer Saturday. After we bid adieu I sated my race-swag size disappointment with a haul of shotbloks and beans and got back to work.
Scott was out of town for his brother’s birthday, so it was just me and the pups Friday night. I took it easy and ordered pasta – and extra charcuterie for my spoiled hounds – from my recent race go-to Italian eatery, Alta Strada. (Highly recommend DC friends! Delicious and my tummy always feels full and happy to race the next morning!) Since I was alone dog-momming I was going to have to get up extra early the next morning, so I made every effort to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I still failed, but I did better than I usually do.
I woke up at 6 on Saturday to have plenty of time to take the dogs out and feed them before the start gun went off at 8:30am. It was a cold morning and I struggled over the options I’d lain out the night before. I had teammates who’d declared their intention to wear shorts but I run so cold in the winter that I was stuck between regular tights and fleece-lined for the mid-30s to low-40s morning. If it had been forecaset to stay in the 30s I may have opted for the fleece but ultimately I went with a regular full-length pair and my legs were happy with the choice all 13 miles. I layered a long sleeve over a tank for on-course options and topped it all off with a headband – I’ve got the coldest ears in the game – and an Mdot cap to keep the head-heat in.
Most crucially I stuffed my gear-check bag with tons of warm and dry options having learned the hard way at RockNRolls past that getting home from the finish area – also at the Stadium Armory – can be brutal. It’s a long walk to the train and a long train home. I packed leg warmers, a heavy long sleeve, a puffy Nike run jacket, and dry socks and gloves. I stretched the resolve of my plastic gear bag knowing I’d be glad later even if it seemed excessive now.
I called a Lyft a little before 7:30 which got me within a few blocks of the start area. I hoofed it the last few blocks there – stopping at a porta on the way – and was at gear check with my laden bag before 8. I made sure it was closed as tightly as a bag that full could be closed and dropped it off at the very last and farthest truck. (Alphabetical-by-last-name has been my nemesis since Kindergarten lunch lines.) I then hit the Mall for a five minute slow-run-warmup.
Feeling warmed and ready I made my way down to the start line. I was in the first corral which I appreciated mostly for the reprieve from the cold this placement offered. RnR is a crowded race – over 10,000 runners – so being further back can mean a long cold wait. Making my way into the corral I ran first into Rev3 teammate Caleigh and her pops – she and I are both new to the Rev3 team and she has quickly become one of my race besties. She was in a wave behind me so we hugged it out and parted. I then ran into tri-crush Ellen which has to be good luck – she’s one of the fastest and most supportive people I know so a pre-race pep talk from her is always a welcome addition to race morning.
Within five minutes of entering the corral our wave was realeased out into the streets of DC. As usual I didn’t have an exact number in my head (thanks, Josh) so I headed onto the course focused on RPE. I wanted to conserve through the first couple miles and figure out what I was working with that morning. Plus I hadn’t worked out the exact math of what sub-1:40 actually necessitated per mile so I had some mental long division to do.
The first few miles are always a willpower challenge as I am lucky to usually seed in the first or second wave based on overall time, but I almost always plod the first few miles more slowly than my corral counterparts. I focused on staying steady and checking in with my legs and heart while people rushed by me on all sides. Ellen was lost to me somewhere ahead within a few minutes but I held back and found a comfortable rhythm. The first mile clocked in at 7:26 which seemed a little fast for my first-half sensibilities.
For the next few miles I forced myself to slow a touch into the 7:30s; having worked out the math I knew my sub-1:40 just required averages under 7:40 per mile and I didn’t want to combust early. Once I’d mentally run the numbers and sussed out my legs, I wasn’t worried about hitting that goal at all, and so miles two through five felt lowkey, each coming in between 7:31 and 7:36 per mile.
And then we hit mile six and began to wind uphill through Rock Creek Park. I can’t say that I’ve come to enjoy hills exactly, but I see them as an opportunity and I think I’m pretty good at them. The key is to not shy away from discomfort and to remind yourself that it is temporary, and most critically, to have faith in your fitness. So I wasn’t feeling intimidated by the 200 feet of quickly-accrued elevation gain. I’d run this course before and I knew I’d be uncomfortable but then I’d recover and it would be fine.
In years past I’ve seen people walk up this incline, but now that I’ve made my way to the first corral, that wasn’t happening. As everyone around me demostrated the same climb-confidence I was just humble-bragging about I found I was losing steam – too much steam. I expected a slowdown of course but not this much. Usually it’s a confidence boost to run by people here, but instead I found I was the one being passed. I shrugged it off thinking I’d recover quickly once I crested onto Calvert St and tried to reframe the experience as, ‘I get to learn and be pushed by these faster runners.’
I finally made it to the top after slowing to a distressing pace in the mid-9s and peaking an equally-distressing heartrate in the 180s. As the road flattened back out I waited for that big BPM to drop back down a bit so I could find those mid-7s again. But it just hovered high, and I held off accelerating for fear I’d burn out here at the halfway point if I pushed too hard. After a quarter mile or so my heart finally started slowing back to a manageable tempo but I stayed uncomfortable, and felt a little betrayed by my fitness and my climbing ethos to just trust that the pain would be temporary.
As I grumped my way through this 7th mile a man in very short and flouncy American flag shorts sped past me. It took my still hill-encumbered mind a second to realize I knew those little shorts and called after my Rev3 teammate Dave just before he sprinted out of earshot. He turned back and saw me slowed a bit so I could catch up for a moment. He asked how I was doing and I answered honestly that I wasn’t doing great. He shouted something cheerful and encouraging and I told him to hurry on. I watched him run ahead in his tiny shorts and continued to will my heartrate down so I could also pick up the pace.
Mile 7 clicked by in an upsetting 8:13 and suddenly that sub-1:40 didn’t seem like such a sure thing. Just after the 7 mile marker we hit an aid station and I saw another Rev3 teammate passing out water. I yelled to Jolene and she yelled and cheered me on and between her and Dave at least my morale began to pick up. I threw back some water and gatorade and felt a renewed determination to get my first half speed back. Fortunately that renewal coincided with a little downhill and I started to refind my cadence and pace.
I found my way back to 7:36 for mile 8 but I knew that wouldn’t cut it anymore if I wanted my goal. Which I did dammit. I knew mile 9 was mostly descent and I leaned into it. I probably shirked my commitment to high turnover a little too much as I sprinted downhill but I started to see the numbers I needed: 7:16 followed by a 7:08 for mile 10. I was uncomfortable for sure, but I also started to feel perversely great – maybe it was because I started passing the people who’d fared better through the Rock Creek climb.
The last few miles trend slightly uphill – in places the course charts a mean false flat that has you questioning your legs and your speed. People were starting to fade, but my conservative first half was paying off. I took perverse glee in running down anyone I could, but I also took pains to hold back just enough that I knew I could maintain pace the whole way home.
I averaged a 7:15 for that final 5k despite the climbing – including the uphill sprint to the finish line – and was pretty ecstatic to turn in a final time of 1:38:57.
Almost immediately I found Ellen who had finished 30 seconds before me but still had another few miles to run as she was Boston Marathon training. We hugged and then took pics with basically every finish line photog we saw. Making our way through the finish area she ran into friends and I found my short-shorts-clad teammate again. Ellen headed off to finish her morning of marathon training and Dave and I made our way to the gear trucks as thelingering winter thermostat was starting to set back in.
One of the many benefits to the first wave is shirt lines at the gear trucks as most of the competitors are still out on the course. Dave quickly got his warm gear from the “S” truck while I took my place on a strangely long line for “T-Z.”
As I waited, even wrapped in a space blanket my body temp dropped quickly and precipitously. I don’t know what happened with our truck, every other truck at this point had NO WAIT TIME and ours was a twenty minute line. My teeth were chattering painfully by the time I finally got my hands on that bag that I’d taken so much care to stuff with warm layers. Maybe the whole first wave was end-of-the-alphabet (Ellen and I are anecodotal proof of that, right?) but it was my only complaint about the race’s organization.
After re-robing in the many layers I’d pre-packed other Rev3 teammates appeared. It was my first race with this group of built-in support and camraderie and I thoroughly enjoyed their company as we made our roundabout ways through the finish festivities to the Metro. We stopped for pictures and porta-potties and boarded a train back toward downtown DC together.
I’d never had so many friends for the trip back from this or any race I don’t think. Many were stopping off at home or at hotels to bathe and get brunch together, while I needed to get home and take the pups out since Scott was out of town. I skipped the team bruch as anotehr friend and I were going to see Tiffany Haddish that night – awesome show, highly recommend! – and I opted to head into (if not out of) the show with sobriety.
As I walked home from the TH show I texted with Dave and considered trying to join the Rev3’ers revelry, and then I remembered that I’ve become a terrible lightweight and needed to put myself to bed since I was alone on dog-mom duty that weekend. But it felt great to have the option – I could tell I was beig welcomed in by a group of the absolute best race-houligans and between that feeling and the PR, RocknRoll DC left me pretty excited for race season 2018.
