Columbus Half

Many of my biggest dreams are tied to running, and chasing those dreams is one of my favorite parts of being a runner.  As with any dream, though, the occasional nightmare sneaks in.  One of my recurring running nightmares starts in the middle of a race, on my way to a huge PR.  This race is unique – I have to dribble a basketball while running or be disqualified.  I’m cruising easily at a faster pace than I’ve ever run, but the ball is repeatedly kicked away by the runners around me, and my race slips away as I have to constantly go chasing the ball. 

Such a ridiculous situation is all but certain to never actually occur, but at some point every runner will face a real world runner’s nightmare – forgetting your shoes, coming down with the flu just days before a championship race, terrible weather during a race you’ve anticipated for months, and of course every runner’s fear, “gastrointestinal distress”.  While I made it through this past weekend’s Columbus ½ Marathon without a porta-john stop, other circumstances didn’t quite go according to plan.

In the past several weeks, my training had turned a corner, and my nagging injury issues seemed to be at bay.  In the beginning of October I recorded a 29.52 10K at the Minster Oktoberfest 10k, only my fourth time under 30 minutes and just nine seconds slower than the previous year.  Columbus would be my first half marathon of 2011, and I had trouble containing my excitement to return to the race where I set my PR in 2010.  Race morning came with favorable fall conditions – breezy but not terribly windy, temperatures in the mid 40’s, and cloudy skies.  The generic hotel room coffee and pre race breakfast – peanut butter and banana toast plus a Clif Bar – never tasted so good, nor had the 5:30 AM infomercials on TV been so interesting.  I eagerly pinned my race number to my favorite red Nike singlet with “Vertical Runner” emblazoned across the chest, then carefully checked the laces of my new, just broken in pair of Nike Lunarspider flats. 

At 6:20 AM I left my hotel room and stepped into the chilly pre-dawn darkness, intending to be early for the 630 AM shuttle that would transport a group of invited runners from the hotel to the start line.  At 6:30, we got word that a short delay would bump the arrival of the shuttle to 6:35.  At this point I wondered if I should have left for the race myself at an earlier time.  Five minutes wouldn’t make a difference, I told myself.  At 6:45, five minutes before I intended to warm up for the 7:30 start, no shuttle had arrived and it became clear that we had a problem.  My mind began racing – the start was less than 3 miles away.  I could easily jog there for a warmup, flats and singlet in hand.  Chill out, I thought – the race employee taking care of us had been shouting into her Blackberry for several minutes – we’d be okay.  My warmup would be abbreviated, but this is a ½ marathon we’re talking about, not a 5k.  I’ll be fine.  When 7 AM came, Stephanie (without whose help we certainly would have missed the race altogether) informed us that the shuttle had gone to the wrong hotel, but the race would be delayed. 

Finally, at almost 7:10 AM, fifteen nervous runners piled into a chartered van and sped away to the race.  Attempts at getting a police escort fell through, making it impossible to get anywhere near the start line once we hit downtown.  At 7:20, we left the van and booked it toward the start.  We were near Corral D, which was a congested mass of bodies that made it difficult to move, let alone cover several street blocks that separated us from the start line.  At this point a small crowd of wispy, slight-bodied distance runners became angry linebackers, plowing through unassuming and innocent marathoners and spectators.  At 7:28 AM, as the national anthem concluded and the wheelchair racers took off, we leapt over the sidewalk barricade into the start area.  Seconds later, I discovered that a race delay was a mere pipe dream.  Volunteers forcibly stripped off my warmup clothes, grabbed my bag from me, and threw my racing flats at my feet.  If I had ever entertained the idea that it might be cool to be aggressively stripped by two women, this was NOT what I had in mind.  With seconds to spare, I jumped behind the starting mat just as the gun fired and sent thousands of runners bolting down Broad Street. 

Normally, my race warmup begins with a 15-20 minute jog, starting at a relaxed pace and building up to several minutes of steady running.  I’ll then change to my racing shoes, do some dynamic stretches and drills, followed by several progressively faster strideouts before the start.  Today, in my most anticipated race of the year thus far, I had no warmup whatsoever.  An imposing challenge stood before me: do not panic.  Forget all the exercise physiology I’ve ever studied, and make the most of it!

The first several miles passed comfortably as I followed my plan of going out conservatively, focusing on a sustainable effort and letting the splits fall where they may.  10K came in 31.23 (roughly 5.04 pace) and I still felt well within myself.  However, instead of picking it up and pressing it to the finish, I now know that I stayed a bit too comfortable in the second half of the race.  In some of my 2010 half marathons, I went out aggressively and just tried to hang on as long as I could.  I set PR’s, but believe I could have run faster with smarter pacing.  This time, I was a bit too cautious.  I never reached a point where I was “redlining”, but simply felt like my legs had taken a beating.  My PR at Columbus 2010 left me utterly spent and needing to be carried away from the finish line, whereas this year I was simply glad to be done and walked away after grabbing my medal. 

This shows that I have plenty to learn about racing the longer distances, and there is plenty of room for improvement.  I’m not excited about the time I ran, but I know that I made the best of a potentially adverse situation.  I still finished 4^th overall, but also finished 4^th last year when I ran 70 seconds faster.  However, not every race will go perfectly and there are always positives to take away.  With this race, as with any other, I'll try to never take a race for granted and be thankful for whatever I am able to do on that day.  There are some things you simply cannot control, and in cases like this one the most we can do is make the most of the situation and give it our best shot.  This is not the first, and will unlikely be the last time I'll sign off with some wisdom from one of the great fictional runners of our time: 

Crazy Guy following Forrest Gump asking for bumper sticker ideas: "Whoa, man, you just stepped in a big pile of dog shit!"

Forrest Gump: "It happens."

Crazy Guy: "What, shit?"

Forrest Gump: "Sometimes."