Day of the Toad

Running a race is kind of like giving birth (though much easier, it must be stressed). It's a very intense experience the details of which quickly fade from memory, so I'd like to get the happy moments of this race recorded right now, while it's still fresh (which is what I always did after my births, too).

Today I did the Run for the Toad, a 25km trail race that is extremely well organized, and well-attended. And you kind of figure that anyone who signs up to run 25km (or 50km, which some racers were completing on the same course today) is pretty serious about running. I wondered how my ad hoc training and fitness would hold up.

I got up at 6:20 and was off before 7, and on site before 8. It was so cold! After getting my race kit and tinkering with my clothing choices, I stayed in the car reading my book until quite close to race time. I realized, too late, that because I'd gotten up and eaten breakfast so early, my stomach was already growling again by the time the race was about to start. But I couldn't eat anything at that point. Too far to make it to the truck for that half of a banana I'd meant to eat, and I wasn't sure my tummy would like food forced upon it with mere minutes to go anyway. I ran into someone I knew, distantly, at the starting line, which was nice and nicely distracting. And as soon as we got running, I warmed up. I'd been shivering uncontrollably.

The first couple of kilometres were slow due to bottlenecking on the trail, but I did start fairly close to the front. Not close enough to avoid the bottlenecking and having to walk, though, for brief portions. There was also one point, several kilometres on, where the trail went down to single file and I got stuck behind some slow runners. I tried not to get frustrated. I was also pretty thirsty, and I had decided not to carry water, but to stop at the stations, so the first four-ish kilometres or so were not my happiest.

But it always takes me awhile to get my stride anyway. The course was hilly, to say the least. If you weren't going up, you were going down again. There were very few flat stretches and those were extremely brief. Luckily, I discovered something about myself on the course: I'm killer fast down those hills. I guess I always have been, but never knew going fast downhill wasn't something most runners do (and I didn't see anyone else going that fast--maybe it's a rookie error and dangerous, I don't know, but I really speed down the hills). I put that gravity to use, let me tell you, because going up hills are not my strength. I'm not one who stops to walk uphill, mind you, but keeping pace remains a challenge. So every downhill, I let my legs roll, and there was a kind of upswing into the next uphill, much like there is when riding a bike. Except on the bike, I'm the opposite: fast up the hills, not quite so fast down.

I passed a lot of people going downhill. The trick was to be sure I was staying in control and focused and not tripping, and also calling out to warn people if I was passing them in tight areas. The first 6-8 kilometres were probably my most challenging. I didn't feel great. I asked myself, what is it? Is it the breathing? Nope, breathing was very controlled and calm. Were my muscles tired? They didn't feel bad. I think I was just getting used to trail running and all those hills. I was forgetting the recovery that happens--many mini-recoveries--throughout a long race. Plus, the first half of the course was tougher than the second, in my opinion (with the exception of the crazy steep climb in the last kilometre of the loop, which I had to walk because my legs couldn't figure out how to run it).

By 8 kilometres, I felt comfortable. I started to enjoy the ride. I figured I'd feel good up until at least 17km, and I was hoping to feel good until 20. Gutting out 5km at the end is to be expected, and doesn't seem like a long distance to me anymore. I did the first loop in 1 hour, 11 minutes. Slightly slower than I'd hoped (I figured I could run the course in 2 hours, 20 minutes, so that was off by a minute). But factoring in the slow first couple of kilometres, I figured I could speed up on the second round. So that's what I tried to do.

I was so grateful for those 12km training runs, because I KNEW I could do it. At one point early in the second loop, I passed this very annoying loud guy who kept shouting obnoxious stuff at the people around him (he was running with a girl, and I think was trying to keep her going, to entertain her). When I passed them (on a downhilll, of course), the girl said, "I have to keep reminding myself that this is fun." "Yeah," said the guy, "especially when you get ..." and here's where I'm not sure that I heard him right, because I think he said "when you get chicked." And then he yelled obnoxiously to the people in front of him, whom I was also passing, to "catch her, don't let her get away" (me, I'm assuming). Is getting chicked getting passed by a girl? Or maybe I totally heard that wrong. In any case, that gave me something to think about as I ran, and also motivation on the big endless hills ahead to get as far away from that loud guy as possible.

People got really friendly toward the end. (Though another guy also called out to other runners to catch me on another downhill, which was kind of weird, and they responded, "No way!" Maybe my running etiquette is bad? Maybe I'm not supposed to pass people going downhill? I was trying to be polite and to call out if needed, and I never felt like I was out-of-control-fast.) Anyway, people were generally really friendly on that second loop. We were quite spread out by that point, so I wasn't passing people as often (and I should add that I was occasionally passed, too), but most I did pass were quick to say, "Good running," or "Good work," or something encouraging. That was awesome. With about four kilometres to go, I was passed by two men who were chatting away--they'd recognized each other from another race, and the one even remembered the other's name. I stayed right behind them to the water station, and we all stopped to grab one last drink, and the one guy said to the other, "Hey, I've never seen you stop before. You're human after all!" And the other guy replied, "Have you seen her [ie. me!] on the downhills! I've gotta try to keep up!"

Well, that sure gave me a boost for those last few kilometres. I did indeed stay ahead of them because the next stretch was downhill. But on that last brutal hill, the man who'd given me that sweet sweet compliment passed me. (The other man was still back there somewhere). He obviously had a good kick for the last stretch, so I set my mind to trying to catch him. Focusing on him helped me catch a couple of people I'd actually thought were too far ahead for me to catch, so even though I never caught up to the man in blue, I sure kept running fast. I crossed the finish line in 2:19:22, or something like that (need to go check my chip time to be exact), which was a minute faster than my mental estimate (those mental estimates are getting more accurate, as I get to know my capabilities better). And sure enough, I did run that second loop faster than the first--a good three minutes faster. See--second half always faster than first. Don't know why.

I caught up with the guy in blue and said, "You caught me!" and he said, "Great race!" or something like that. It was a nice exchange.

The good news is that the length really didn't feel that hard. I'm not saying it felt easy, but it didn't kill me or wipe me out. I was even able to eat lunch pretty much immediately afterward. I didn't feel sick or crampy, and though I was pretty chilled, being all wet from the sweat and the air being so cold, I got warmed up in a bath when I got home. I'll sleep well tonight, that's for sure.

But wow! It was so fun! I loved being able to do it, and I love that I know my body well enough now that I knew during those last few kilometres exactly what I was capable of managing, even though my breath was speeding up. I can run like this for another ten kilometres, easy, I kept telling myself. And I think it's true. That still leaves me with seven extra kilometres to complete the marathon, but on the other hand, there won't be so many killer hills on the marathon course. Those hills definitely required a tweaking of the pacing, with some moments of quick recovery built in at the top of hills.

Aaaaanndddd I think that's a thorough-enough capturing of the experience. Thanks to the strangers who raced with me and gave me such encouragement. You never know how much you're helping when you say something so seemingly small and kind ... but you're helping a lot. (I need to remember that, too!)