Sunday, May 19th, 7 a.m. – return to racing after more time off and completion of physical therapy for the hip bursitis. Goal for the run was to pace the little bro to his personal best for the distance, somewhere between 1:31 and 1:35. Keith thought he could handle 7:15 miles, and I thought I could carry him through faster than that. Being as it was our weekend trip to Chicago, we had to tour the city on Saturday, which meant a lot of walking around and eating unhealthy foods. Around three miles of walking was wasted when I went to the wrong running shop to pick up my race packet (reading is overrated!). Giordano’s deep dish pizza is amazing. New York style pizza is good, but Chicago deep dish is something special. The pizza was washed down with a couple of pitchers of local brew (Goose Island Green Line ale), which was a nice complement to the meal. Again, just not a good pre-race strategy.
Waking up at 5 a.m. on Sunday morning was not fun. Without the benefit of a properly planned race, I elected to run on an empty stomach; no good morning snacks in my hotel room, complimentary breakfast not open yet, etc. Still, my stomach had a lot of pizza in it from Saturday night, though I did my best to lighten the load with three pre-race pit stops. My stomach was not feeling good, but my hip felt (mostly) fine. Actually, my opposite hip bothered me more than my problematic side. Anyway, the plan was for a relaxed hard effort, not a full-blown race, since I felt like I had lost a few steps with the recent time off. Keith and I warmed up together, toed the line together, eyed the competition together, and then went our separate ways. Where the hell did he go? Sure, I started out a bit fast, but I couldn’t find him anywhere! I spent the first mile working around people in front of me while turning back every few steps to see when Keith would reappear, but to no avail. When I hit the mile marker at 6:50, I figured Keith recognized my pace was about 25-30 seconds faster than his goal, so he smartly stayed back. I still kept an eye out for him as I continued along at that pace for the next couple of miles, and even took a quick pee break somewhere between 3 and 4 miles in. Then, I decided to push harder, and started picking up the pace. I hit four miles at 27:30, followed by five at 34 even, six at 40:40, seven at 47, eight at 53:30, nine at 59:55, ten at 66:30, so I was steady moving up. I fought off some nausea between miles 4 and 5 (right when I was picking up speed), but some sipped water and the balance dumped on my head helped alleviate the feeling. It was great weather, with temps in the mid 60s, slight breeze coming off Lake Michigan as we ran along a beautiful, waterfront paved trail with the Chicago skyline as a backdrop. At ten miles, the nausea returned, and my pace let up a little. A few runners snuck past me at this point (until then, I had been picking off other runners ever since the piss). Around this time, we were mixed in with the back of packers from the 10k that had started half an hour after our race, so there were a lot of bodies to work around in this homestretch. I had been playing the mental math game for the last few miles, trying to figure out what pace I needed to hold to hit what time (“If I run the last five miles at 7 minute pace, I’ll be around ____; If I can hit 6:30s, I’ll finish around ____”). The nausea at ten miles was more persistent than the first bout, and my (relative) lack of conditioning was starting to catch up with me, but I tried to maintain the effort and continue to chase people.
While waiting at the starting line, two girls in tight black spandex and sport bra tops pushed past Keith and me, and I pointed out that they looked fast, so we should follow them. Note to wife: I assure you, that’s all I was thinking! I saw them still running together at the turnaround area, comfortably in front of me. Somewhere around eleven miles in, one of the pair came into view, giving me another target. My misogynistic manly pride was still hurting from the woman who chicked me at the Rock N Roll marathon in March, so I pondered payback at this shorter distance, even though there were still other women beyond this one target. The course veered away from the waterfront with less than a half a mile to go, though there was an overhead race banner over the path before this detour. As I was approaching it, thinking to myself that it looked like a finish line banner (less the fans and clock), some guy tore past me in an all out effort to reach this post. He outleaned me and others around me, and stopped, while we all continued on to the actual finish line. Within this last half mile, I passed spandex girl #2 and a few other runners, with a decent surge to the line in 1:27:19. On a relatively flat, fast course in good weather, I ran a slower pace for a half than I had managed for my full marathon two months prior, but the effort was solid, so I was satisfied. From the unofficial results, it looks like I was 27th overall, 25th male, and 1st in my age group (35 – 39). Weird that I wouldn’t have even placed in the 30 – 34 or 40 – 44 groups, but I guess my division was the easy one this time around!
Keith came through in a very respectable 1:34:24, which is a personal best, though I still believe I could have helped him go faster (or help him blow up trying). His race pace was incredibly steady. Afterwards, my legs felt terrible! It was a little disheartening how much I was hurting after what I had downplayed as “just a measly half-marathon.” Especially since I am now less than two weeks away from my next 50k, followed two weeks later by a 50 miler. Since those are both trails and will be at a lesser intensity, I am hopeful that they will not beat me up the same way. I am sure they’ll find a different way to beat me up.
Traipse Reports - Trips and Races 