Out and Back

2016 Big Bend Quicksilver 30K Race Report

Day Before

We got an early start because who can sleep with sunrises like we were seeing in Terlingua? I got down two eggs, oatmeal, a banana and OJ. Our plan was to hit the packet pick up down in the state park as soon as Taryn rolled into town, so there was a bit of porch sitting and waiting while she drove in from Ft. Stockton (last minute addition as we convinced her to race on Tracie's race bib).

After she arrived, and a very quick packet pick up (loved the race director giving out the bibs and meeting each and every runner), we jumped back in the car and headed up to Big Bend National Park. Jamie, JT, Jonathon, and G had decided to go to the canyon lands elsewhere, but I stuck with the girls to do a shakeout down into the Basin to the Window. The 10Kers and Priscilla came with us, but they were just going to hike. Taryn, Jackie, and me had a great 3 mile run to the Window itself, and after obligatory pictures, we ran 1 more mile uphill back towards the visitor center before hiking the final two miles. In retrospect, maybe not the best idea the day before a race due to the fact that this was a serious uphill back (maybe around 1,200 ft gain). Either way, it was worth it because of the views, the weather, and plain and simple nature.

The Window

We drove back to home for the weekend (i.e. Villa Terlingua), and I took a quick outdoor shower in 45 degree weather to warm up, and then proceeded to stuff two PB&Js, a banana, salad, and walnuts in my pie hole. I didn't realize how much the hike/shakeout run had taken out of me. The rest of the afternoon was chill sitting on the porch, and prepping for the evening. I sucked down my liter of electrolytes throughout the afternoon, and even had two beers (not my tradition, but it was good for the nerves). For the first time, the nerves weren't about what could go wrong with the race, but rather, how right it could go and how amazing the scenery was going to be. That evening, Jackie and a couple other helpers cooked an amazing pasta dinner with salad (6 pounds of wheat pasta I believe), so we had enough to feed the mass 18 person army that would be joining us for the evening. I washed dishes along with Trail Roots Rick. After food, talk, and digestion, Jamie and myself briefly spoke of race strategy, and we both had about the same plan with a few tweaks. I liked Jamie's plan a bit more though, and convinced myself to give it a whirl. Essentially sustainable marathon effort early, then lay the hurt down later in the race (he had a calculated point, but I was going to go with my gut when it was time). Either way, it was going to be an organic race. Our intentions were different, but we had a kindred idea of heading out there and laying it all out. No regrets, just use our pain thresholds/fitness to put a good hurt some people. I knew I needed to be careful not to try to abandon my race just to see if I could keep up with Jamie though (speed can be deadly :) ) Others from the crew weren't concerned as they were just going out to run and not race though. We all called it a night around 8:45 pm. My legs, which had felt tired after the time in the National Park earlier in the day, were finally at peace. I was out by 9:15 pm.

Villa Terlingua

Race Day Morning

My alarm popped off at about 5:30 am. Not sure that all in the house were pleased with the early alarm, but hey, it was race day and I was ready to roll. I started putting on my race gear (which was minimal), and boiling water for oatmeal and coffee. I took down one boiled egg, one cup of oatmeal, and one banana. Enough to satisfy me. People had started milling around in the loft and Taryn joined me along with JT (both running the 30K not racing). By 6:15 am, I had all of my gear together, and had my Sweatpants and Black Eyed Pea long sleeve over my race kit. The kit included my Team Rogue Split Shorts, Adidas singlet, Rogue Beanie, Swiftwick medium length socks, Nathan arm sleeves, go to Nike Glow Gloves, and my Nike Terra Kiger Blues for shoes. I had 2 gels in my shorts zipper, one in hand, and packed a water bottle just in case (was going to make a race time decision on whether to carry a bottle or not).

By 6:30 am, it was time to go. I was waiting on one other person, but we had to pick up Trail Roots Rick from his place, so I left the other one behind for them to drive themselves. JT and me drove down the dirt road, picked up Rick, and headed 7 miles down the road to the start. Parking was easy as we were there early, and there were minimal people there for the 50 miler that had started at 5:30 am. Cold.... real cold, but not as cold as the previous morning. Race start was looking to be 38 degrees and warm up into the 40s by the end.

We had about 30 minutes left until race start once I got to the restroom. 15 minutes before, I gelled and took a few sips of water. Everyone moved back into the warm facility waiting for the start. I joined for about 3 minutes, but didn't want to get to comfortable, so I went back outside. Just enough time to size up the competition around us. Retrospectively, Jamie and me had both picked out the same guy that we thought could be a pro type with his Pearl Izumi kit on. There was also a tall lanky, for lack of a better word, kid who looked like he was going to be a beast. In my limited trail experience though, there are a lot of great racers hiding in the wings. That was my hope for the day for myself. With 5 minutes left, I stripped down to my race kit, and went to the start line. A couple minutes later, Jamie joined me, and just stood beside. G briefly joined us to wish us luck, and then milled back into the crowd. In the minutes leading up to the race, the announcer made reference to the the lanky kid from Alpine, and referenced his impending win coming today. He didn't reference him by name, but it was obvious. I knew the kid was in deep shit with Jamie on the course.

The Race

I went out exactly how I wanted to at very comfortable Marathon Effort. I hung behind the main group of 5 which included Jamie, the Alpine Kid, the Pearlizumi, and two others that were intent on running a slightly faster pace than I was willing to maintain early on. By mile 2, four of them (Alpine, Jamie, the eventual masters winner hereafter known as "Masters", and one other) were not within immediate reach, but were within sight on some of the descents. They had a good 2 minute cushion on me. I figured Jamie was either leading, or close behind, padding about a minute a mile on me (I turned out to be right as he finished about 19 minutes ahead of me). I was still in Marathon Goal effort mode though. Pearlizumi had dropped onto my shoulder along with another participant, and the eventual female overall winner was about 5 seconds behind me. In the spirit of running my own race, I didn't want to look back, but I took a peek here and there. These first 2 miles were mainly jeep track, some single track, and a few creek beds. Just a slight uphill.

Miles 3 to 4 brought a waning pack behind me. They were slowly fading in the distance. I could only see Pearlizumi, and one other guy by the time I got to the first aid station, but they were falling off and I had a good minute or two on them. The course continued to be creek beds, and single track, with the beginning of some climbing. Here entered the organic part of the race for me. I knew that both of them had hydration on them, and I had opted not to carry a bottle. The weight as opposed to the necessity just didn't add up for me at the time. I knew I could make quick stops, and not lose much time, so that became the strategy. So in preparation, I started thinking about the 5 mile aid station and missed a turn. Well fuck. I gave up a good minute on this and Peralizumi was back within closer sight. Not what I wanted early. At this point, I had to make a decision. I knew I was in 5th place, and that I had a miles 5 to 11 of uphill coming with a few speedy descents during this period. I have a tendency to make strong climbs and I was okay with 5th place if that is how I finished at this point, so I made a bold move early. The decision was, break the two behind me in half and hope I had enough left to see what I could do about the group in front of me. I wanted to give them a little good pain to chew on.

Miles 5 through 11 were BRUTAL. I hit the gas on mile 5, up and downhill. It wasn't an amazing amount of gain, but it was enough to put a hurt on someone during a race, and that is exactly what I intended to do to Pearlizumi and his friend that was following him. I started by getting up the first ridge as fast as I could, and I recognized that I could use the ridges to hide myself. The thought process was "If I can keep gaining ground on him, the ridges will eventually hide me. If the ridges really hide me, he might begin to think I am further away than I actually am." I was trying to use the element of the unknown to wear him down. I wanted to physically spend him, and mentally demoralize him, then I could focus on potentially gaining ground on the fast footed nut cases in front of me. On the back side of 5, I knew I had dropped him a bit. It was now a game of hide and seek for me. I pushed hard mile 5 through early in mile 7, and then I let the pain loose. Coming off of a ridge into an open flat, there was a wide, open dual track that made a U shape. I saw the 4th place in front of me on the other side of the U, and glanced at my watch to calculate how far he was away (based on when I got there). I let loose on the downhill. and just let it roll to a full out sprint. By the time I hit the other side, I realized I was only 2 minutes behind 4th place, and the other 3 in front of him were nowhere to be seen. Pearlizumi was now dying on me. I saw him cresting the other side of the ridge as I was exiting the uphill on the U, and he was hurting. I could see it in his stride that he was shuffling. Now I knew I just needed to get up the steepest uphill part of the course in miles 8 though 11 and then determine what I had left for the last 10K plus. When I got to the aid station at mile 10.5, I had started doubting myself. I knew I had slowed down, but I also knew that it was a sustained uphill effort. I kept reminding myself of effort, not pace, and consistency. I needed to keep focused despite early, tired legs. I stopped for 45 seconds to take water, electrolytes, and my first Honey Stinger. In and out, I was back on my way for the last half mile of sustained uphill.

My hamstrings were starting to play with me rolling into mile 12. I knew they were on the edge of cramping, so I tried to open up my stride with every downhill. At this point, there was no one to race but myself. I didn't see Pearlizumi again until 9 minutes after I crossed the finish line (didn't know this at the time, but he was spent). I did what I had set out to do in breaking him, but now it was an effort for me not to break prematurely myself. I took 12 through 13 steady and effort based, and would occasionally get in a sprint just break the monotony of the run, and was really focusing on my breathing and making sure I had enough oxygen. It was a matter of awareness and getting through the last few miles at this point. When I hit an aid station with about 5 miles to go I took another honey stinger for good measure. It was at this point, I was informed I wasn't too far off 4th, but 1st through 3rd were a lost cause. This gave me hope as I choked down some water, and bolted out. More steady miles until I made a turn with 2 miles left. There was Masters (4th place) down in the flat below me about 2 minutes ahead. My second wind and second drop the hammer moment had begun. I felt pretty fluid but very tight as the descents were starting to wear on my quads now. My legs were definitely tired, but I kept reminding myself 2 more miles not 10 more miles like in the marathon. Masters (4th place) must have had the same second wind though as I saw him once more, and then at the finish line in front of me. He was just a little too far and a little too much for me. As I made this realization, I kept a sustained effort, but didn't kill myself. I knew 5th place was going to be it for the day.

As I turned the corner out of the park and down the road to the finish, I reflected on exactly what I had done this race and my previous trail race. Just fucking organic racing. The shell of a plan, but the ability to adapt and race the person and not the clock. There were no paces until I saw Strava later, just calculation and cerebral work controlling what my legs did. I enjoyed a chat with Jamie (he won of course, what choice did he have?) while we waited for the rest of the crew, and then had a beer with our tribe as we sat and watched the rest of the race unfold. In came G, Jackie, Taryn, and Jonathon. The 10kers in our crew had already crossed and Shelly had won second overall and first female. Very very good time, and just pure bliss. 5th overall, age group win, successful race in the books. All along with an amazing weekend with a unique and amazing tribe. The desert and mountains definitely have my attention and love.

Crossing

Positive Takeaways:

Trail racing is a confirmed organic entity to me. I can have a plan, but I need to be flexible with it and roll with my gut as the race unfolds. There is no watch, just feels, intuition, and trust in my instinct.

Good to knows and Learning Experiences for Next Time:

I need to explore fuel belts and more petite water belts for shorter distances. Had I had this, I might have been able to pop up into 4th place. The little places I can shave some time off will come with experience.

TRPM

Best Race Treat Ever

Big Bend Crew Minus Taryn

The Itch

Ever get a little itch you just can't quite reach, but you really want to scratch? Rewind two years, I used to consider March through May my "A" race season as I was such a huge fan of 10K and below distances. I always had the itch to race them. I am still a fan of those distances, but since I started training for the Marathon distance, I have become less inclined to race them. Last year's shorter season was laced with a few PRs, including Cap 10K and Autism Speaks 8K, so you could call it a success. I just haven't had "the itch" for those distances since last year, despite the fact that I know a Marathon base primes you for such good times with a bit of fine tuning. At times, I feel as if the short distance itch has been scratched with heavy pace quality workouts.

That being said, my focus had clearly been on the 2015 Houston Marathon in January and just having a solid PR race there. Leading into Houston, I had taken roughly a year to just build up base, learn to get miles in, be consistent, and just simply be patient (with a few races in between of course). Yes, there were hard workouts, yes there were shitty days, but I just took the year to learn to embrace all of these factors and focus on "time on feet". My coach, who I have been sponging off of, taught me the greatest lesson I have learned as a runner in 2014/2015. You have to trust the process. While I am still learning, and hopefully always will be, I didn't always understand the process. I embraced it though. The results were everything and more. I popped Houston with almost a 30 minute PR of 3:22 and change. I had the itch for something epic, and finally I had stretched my running ability far enough to scratch it.

So post Houston.... I started my recovery, gained about 10 pounds (yes, weight fluctuations do happen), and had been training and ramping slow, but had been a bit aimless. I was doing my miles, my workouts, but hadn't quite had a sense of purpose. I even signed up for three Spring races and the Toronto Waterfront Marathon in October. So when were things going to turn around? An 18 miler to Mt. Bonnell in the ice was my first clue that things were turning. A week later, a 20 mile run while watching my teammates do a workout was the next step. Weight was almost down, body was feeling good, now.... the mental... are you mentally ready to be back Josh?

Two wonderful medium long runs on my vacation in Victoria, B.C. set me up to be in the proper mental place. Everything felt so good, so relaxed, and I was just happy. But there still wasn't an itch. Just a little sense of doubt and dread about racing again. I was still loving just running and hitting miles. Fast forward to today (just 5 days after my last run in Victoria, and two days removed from jet lag). Running with two of my teamily members... yes, that's right, teamily (it's a TRPM thing), I mentioned to them that I didn't feel like I was in "race shape" (specifically I meant 5K/10K race shape). I think it just took me saying it out loud, and the itch was back. I have never had a base to play with like this, and despite not doing as much speed work lately, I realize I am ready to lay it out and see what happens. If it works, it works, if I hit a failure point, then I will know what I have to work on. Either way, "the itch" is back.

Take What The Road Gives You

It's not often that I have a junk race to play with. This morning, I was afforded that opportunity at the Car2Go Marathon Relay here in Austin. A fellow Rogue had a free entry to the race (6 team members, 4.37 miles a piece) and I jumped on it. We all went into this with no intentions, have fun (some of us were just logging miles, some of us were using it as a workout, some of us were just using it as a means of sweating out the sins of last night). I was using it as a workout as I missed a QW two days ago and wanted to get back out and get one in after Sioux Falls two weeks ago.

4 am to 6 am

Not knowing the logistics of a Marathon Relay, I woke early and figured I would log a few miles with my TRPM teammates. I wanted to be around for a few miles to check in and see how everyone is (A lot of them are coming up on races and I like keep in tune with them). So I got 1.5 in with them and headed back to Rogue.

6 am

Back at Rogue I rolled, fiddled on my phone, watched the new half marathon groups filter in, and waited... the beginning of a long wait.

7:10 am

Time to get a second little run (1 mile) down to the start line.

7:20 am

At the start, National Anthem, Hoopla, Start... at this point, we don't even know our leg order minus Emily who has claimed first gig. We quickly work out that Stephanie will go second as she is racing with two teams, Sandra third, Minh fourth (he is running the first four legs, but the forth with the timing chip embedded in a baton)... that leaves the fifth and sixth legs. I give Andy the choice, and agree to run the sixth leg as I am the relay noob.

7:30 am

The race starts and we wait... the beginning of a long wait and getting to know a few of my teammates that I had never met before this day. Good conversations, a lot of watching the race, and a lot of calculating when the next person should be waiting in the corral to take on the next leg of the race.

7:30 am to 10:25 am

A WHOLE LOT OF WAITING :) and trying to keep myself loose. At one point I even go out for a short run and find my TRPM crew coming in from their 20 miler that I started with them at 5:30 am. I am intending for this "race" to be a workout like I mentioned before, but it is definitely the most segmented workout ever due to the lag factor. I will have to remember next time to not start my "warm up" until closer to my leg (and to know what leg I am running the day before). It is starting to get hotter, the sun is coming out and I am hoping the heat of September in Texas can hold itself off for one more hour.

10:38 am

I see Andy rolling in, jump out of the corral and grab the baton. Workout time! I innately turn on my Garmin..... and then do something I have never done in a race before. Switch my Garmin to time of day function so I couldn't see my pace or mileage....

The Race (or workout)

Consider this turning over a new leaf for me, or turning over my Garmin as a lot of runners call it. It was empowering. My mind and my Garmin got me in trouble in Sioux Falls two weeks ago, so I wanted to try to eliminate this from the equation. My new mantra for this race, "Take what the road will give you, and then steal a little more".

I felt great from Riverside to about the rise on Cesar Chavez coming past Lamar. I was very tempted to switch my watch to pace mode and peek, but didn't give myself the chance. My stomach started working on me as I made the stretch from Lamar to the bigger rise right before Mopac on CC. The turn at the top just didn't want to seem to come fast enough. I still noticed I was picking people off at this point, and I felt strong. The stomach issue, and the heat, were very much bothering me at this point though. Thoughts in my head.... "It isn't an injury, it's discomfort and you have run through this before."

Normally, I would be looking at my watch and obsessing about how slow or fast I was going. Today, I was just trying to take what I could from the road and steal more.

Coming down the hill back into the city on CC, my legs started getting into a rhythm again. I was struggling to control my breathing, but was making a concerted effort to bring my breath back to a steady rhythm in hopes that it would settle my stomach. I was still picking off people at this point, and I had a few friendly "targets" that I know in front of me. It is always good to have someone to chase.

When I hit the bridge coming across South 1st, I knew I was running slower. My legs were feeling it. I also knew, that I had to push that out of my mind. Unlike every other race that had taken me across this bridge, I knew I had a lot longer to go to hit that finish line. Not only did I have to make a right on Riverside and take the long stretch to the finish, I had to veer right at the finish, run past it, go down to Lamar again, and turn around back to the finish. The race was not over in any sense of the word. So I continued to control my breathing, and took the turn onto Riverside.

There is something about a crowd that gets you going again. Cheering, random strange comments, people who have no clue, people who have every clue in the world. Either way, hitting Riverside got me going again. Zoned and ready to roll for one last push. I do have to admit, my one in race mistake was longing for the finish line as I passed it the first time, but I quickly put that out of my mind and got back to work. Made the turn around at Lamar, and hit the turbo button.

Pace? Results? Respectable, but it doesn't matter at this point. I felt the pain, I harnessed it, and raced a smart race while listening to my body. I put the watch away and just ran a race for the first time in my life. And, for the first time since Cap 10K (As my coach would like to say), "the race didn't happen to me". I took what the road gave me, and stole back a little more than it has stolen from me in past races.

Takeaways/Wins/Thoughts

Without the element of pace, your are afforded the opportunity to pay attention to the workings of your body (not thinking about what you should be running, but actually running).

Not one person passed me in my time on course. Talk about a confidence booster. If I can pick off 32 runners on a 4 mile course, I will stop using my watch completely.

The day/elements will affect your race. Embrace them, but don't let them overrun you. This was not my fastest day, but it was hot/humid and getting later in the day when I raced. I could have easily remembered 50 degrees in Sioux Falls two weeks prior and let that affect me, but I had to remember I was in this here and now.

Understand the logistics of a race before you do it. This was not a true race, but I should have understood the "lag time" before I started my workout on course. I was trying to balance staying loose and not putting too many miles on my legs before I started, and that might have been a loss for me.

The Beast

This past weekend, I traveled up to Sioux Falls with a few of my fabulous TRPM teammates to take on the Sioux Falls Half Marathon while they were taking a swing at BQs and PRs in the Full edition. After a day of mild shenanigans with the team to take our mind off the race (See the blogs of one Mandy Deen), I headed to the hotel and rested up for the night. I had what I would consider an ambitious goal, and long story short, it didn't pan out for me the next day. That's not the point of this though. On the plane home from Sioux Falls post-race, I was re-reading Born to Run by Christopher McDougall and something struck me (If you know this book, kudos... if you don't, buy the damn thing or I'll loan it to you). In Chapter 19, a reference is made to ultrarunner Lisa Smith-Batchen, one of the most accomplished distance runners of all time. She speaks of the exhaustion and fatigue of the later parts of races as "The Beast". The text from Born to Run is as follows.

Lisa Smith-Batchen, the amazingly sunny and pixie-tailed ultrarunner from Idaho who trained through blizzards to win a six-day race in the Sahara, talks about exhaustion as if it's a playful pet. "I love the Beast," she says. "I actually look forward to the Beast showing up, because every time he does, I handle him better. I get him more under control." Once the Beast arrives, Lisa knows what she has to deal with and can get down to work. And isn't that the reason she's running through the desert in the first place - to put her training to work? To have a friendly little tussle with the Beast and show it who's boss? You can't hate the Beast and expect to beat it; the only way to truly conquer something, as every great philosopher and geneticist will tell you, is to love it.

I am by no means an ultrarunner or anywhere near the caliber of Lisa, but there is something to be said about the Beast. If you have raced, you know what the Beast is, and it isn't necessarily the fatigue or exhaustion. I think we all have our own Beast(s). You don't know your Beast? It could be the thing that you wrestle with in miles 20 through 26.2 of a Marathon. Or in every damn bit of a 5K. Maybe you have several Beasts working on you at once (mind, body, weather, combination)? Maybe your Beast is a chameleon that can change colors and bite you in the butt when you least expect it. Don't know your Beast(s)? I applaud you, or I challenge you to dig a little deeper to find it. For now, I'll tell you about the Beasts I met in Sioux Falls. My mind and my anger.

This wasn't intended to be much of a progressive race. That is, unless I was ready and willing to take my pace much lower than intended race pace as I was starting right around my goal pace. But what could go wrong? Weather was perfect, course was perfect (Mistake number 1, respect the course, don't assume), and I was confident. Mile 1 through 5, perfect. It couldn't have been better and I was clicking off miles at race pace or slightly under. I tucked in with a group of Collegiate XC runners from Gillette College in Wyoming and a few locals that were a part of the 605 Running Crew out of Sioux Falls. I let them lead the way to block the wind and keep the pace as they were right around where I wanted to be (one of the smarter things I did all day).

Then, things went a bit south on me. Enter mile 6 and enter the Beast called Josh's mind. Too much thinking can be a bad thing kids, especially if you aren't thinking straight. My mind was about to get as crooked as it could. I wasn't intending to do a progressive run and the crew I had been latching onto was going to start cranking down significantly. I had been listening to them discuss this plan and started playing with the idea myself, giving myself a few scenarios. GREEDY! Instead of listening to my heart and my race plan, my mind got greedy and way too involved... here's a 5 second snapshot what my thought process looked like before things went south....

"You've banked a good 40 seconds and are feeling good, so why not go with these guys (Mistake 2, Never bank time, bank energy... Allison Macsas, I could hear you preaching to me) .... you're past the hard part of the course, why not? (Mistake 3, see mistake number 1 again, always respect the course)... you recovered on those early slow climbs really well... you've raced and trained on harder courses (Mistake 4 once again, see 1 and 3, ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS respect the damn course)... If you have a bad mile 6, you can always back off the pace above your race goal and recover to make time up later (Mistake 5, now I am thinking way too much and I've given myself Plan B if I fuck up mile 6. There should be no Plan B or out unless I know I am injured)....

Licking my Chops and Being Greedy

So with all of these thoughts looping in my mind throughout mile 6, I started seeing the group pulling away from me. I then realized that I was on the Sioux Falls equivalent of Austin, Texas' very own Duval St. You know? That slow, deceiving climb over about 3 miles? To add to the slow mind misery, I start seeing my time bank fading, my energy going down, legs feeling lead like and worst of all the looping thought process is getting perpetually worse. This leads to round two of thoughts over a much longer period of time (miles 7 through 8 in the last two miles of my climb)....

"Well so much for a sub-1:30, might as well back the pace off and just PR (Mistake 6, I have COMPLETELY abandoned Plan A and started relying on my watch when I should have said "screw the watch" at this point and stuck with #JFR)... my legs are feeling tired. Was it my nutrition? Was it my hydration? Did I go out too fast? Why do my legs feel like lead? How could I be so stupid to put myself in this position? This is so embarrassing! (Mistake 7, Why are you thinking about the inconsequential at this point, what's done is done, #JFR)

Those 3 short miles (6 through 8), were nothing more than me over focusing on why my race was going wrong rather than finding a way to embrace the Beast that was my mind. I was convinced I was wasting an opportunity on a race I had flown a 1000 miles for. I was letting the Beast punch me right in the face and I knew it. I didn't have to love the Beast at this point, I just needed to find a way to control and tame it. Racing isn't fun at times. In fact it is never really fun, but I had just made it more of a grind than it needed to be. I'm not going to bore you with the details. Miles 9 and 10 were no different. More mind minutia and convincing myself that I had fucked up.

Then, something happened coming down the bike path when mile 10 turned to 11. I was still convincing myself what a crappy race I was having and how much time I had given up when I got passed by a smiling racer who chirped, "Good Job, only 5K left". At the moment, I thought that was the last thing I needed to hear. It pissed me off beyond belief. You're going to pass me and tell me what a good job I am doing? How dare you? Retrospectively, however, I wish I could have found her and thanked her after the race, because she had brought out another Beast of mine that I am much more experienced with controlling... Anger. Unlike the mind Beast that overtook me mid-race, I embraced my anger Beast and channeled it like it was an old friend. There was only one thought in my mind that entire last 5K. Catch her if you can, and anyone else along the way. Simple thoughts, simple goals, good results in those last 3 miles because I knew my Beast, and used it to my advantage. My last last 5K just was just over my original intended race pace. There was no pain, no extra thought, just an end goal. Did I break 1:30? Nah. Did I PR? Nope. But I channeled and embraced one of my Beasts. I'll call that a win.

Mile 11 Water Stop ... From What I Can Remember... I have dropped the mind Beast and Channeled the anger Beast

I still have a lot of work to do to locate my race Beasts and find out what my relationships are with them. In fact, I don't have to love them like Lisa Smith-Batchen does. To each their own! I just have to try to understand them, nurture them when I can, and respect them every chance I get. Love may or may not come in time. There is no clear answer for any of us trying to take control of the one or many things that haunt us during the race. I think we just need to know that no matter what we do, Beasts are always going to be there. We just need to find a way to fine tune our relationship with them.

Finding A Team

What is a team? According to most dictionaries there are multiple definitions. Generally the first one that comes up is some variation of the following… ”a group of people who compete in a sport, game, etc., against another group”. This has always been my understanding of what a team is.

I have been training with Rogue for almost two years, and made a big decision this last Summer to start training for my first Marathon. I was already strong, already had a good base, and was ready to roll. I pulled the trigger, joined Allison Macsas’ group, and fired off three registrations to the three major Texas Marathons. Lofty goals, but I was confident in my ability to push myself to complete these and complete them at a high level. My first long run was a success on the hills of Exposition. 14 miles and hills had my confidence soaring... until the following morning. 1 mile into a recovery run something wasn’t right. My left knee felt like hell and I knew it. I walked home, put ice on it, fretted about what it could be, and rested it for the week without understanding what was wrong. By the next Saturday, I felt better, so I took a chance on another long run (once again hills and trip to Scenic Drive). Needless to say, it didn’t end well. I took a long 5 mile walk from West Austin back to Rogue DT and could barely walk by the time I got back. Allison agreed it was time to see someone about the pain. The assumption was that is was a cranky IT Band. First thing I thought when she said this, being new to injury, was “What the fuck is an IT Band and how can I get past it as soon as possible?”. Verdict, I had raced myself into the ground, made my IT band one giant knot, and beat up all of my stabilizer muscles. What this meant? 2 months of aqua jogging, stretching, massages, rolling and being good to myself. It just wouldn’t go away, and just when I thought I could run again, it would flare back up at that magic 3-5 mile mark.

I have never been injured, so the first few weeks were hard on me. Not knowing when it would get better was killing me. I was cranky, withdrew and isolated myself from my training partners. I didn’t grace the doors of Rogue for a almost a month, and didn’t want to see any shiny happy people getting to run when I couldn’t. One night, I was looking through Facebook and started realizing how much progression the members of my group were making with their runs. The pictures, the posts, the happiness. Seeing this development and their growing strength made something click. I had sense of disconnect and of not being a part of the group. This is what ultimately made me decide to stop being a child about the whole situation. Instead of sitting at home and sulking, it was time to show up at Rogue and do what I could do. If that meant watching my teammates run, then so be it. If it meant I would get in 2 miles instead of 6 miles, then great. This is where the magic began. I started bonding with people in my group, learning about their running pasts, talking about their tweaks and pains, getting advice about my own issues. I began using my experiences to help others in the group who were struggling as people did the same for me. In that short time I learned so much and got to know so many new people. I began to enjoy watching people’s progress and cheering them on. I began to accept my injury, and accept the shitty runs that came with it at times. I was not 100%, but I was back and interacting with running partners past and present. This is where my definition of “team” and my attitude began to change.

At the beginning of September, I started ramping up mileage again. First came 10, then 14, and then the test… Six lonely runs while I was on vacation in Portland, including a very cold and wet 18 miler. The runs went wonderfully… but something was missing… something didn’t feel right… my team wasn’t there. Not my training partners, not my running group, my team, The A-Team. (Disclaimer: Somewhere in this period of time the phrase "The A-Team" was coined. We had a team name! Copyright to you know who)

When I got back to Austin, I resumed full time workouts with The A-Team and within a few weeks, was ready to race a conservative Run for the Water. No knee pain, no aches, no problem. I was finally back on track! Run for the Water couldn’t have gone any better and it isn’t the fastest race I have ever run, but it was the smartest race I have run to date. All was well except for that one minor detail… a sharp pain in my foot after the race. Something was different this time though. I was calmer about the injury. I knew that I had the support of my coach and team and this would be a cinch to get past. Fast forward two weeks and two trips to the fine folks at Advanced Rehab, I am back on the road. The difference in between this injury and the last? I had the support and resources of of the team to not run through the pain and make it worse. Instead of holing up, I came to Rogue, I got worked on, I limped to the track and supported the crew while they were running. Mental and physical rehabilitation got me out of an injury I could have drawn out for a lot longer. Piece of cake!

Fast forward again through a month and a lot of strong runs. Dallas Marathon race day approaches, and we all know how that story ends. Cancelled. I discussed the alternative options for the weekend with several people and ultimately, I opted out of the BCS Marathon as a replacement, and took the attitude “live to fight another day”. With that, I sent out good luck messages Saturday night to those racing BCS, had dinner, a stiff drink, and went to bed. What am I doing at 8 am the next morning? Sitting in bed, refreshing Facebook awaiting the results from my teammates' 5 months of work (as I did a month before with my teammates running Philly and NYC). The first results start rolling in… and it was nothing but good news and me screaming with excitement at the computer for the rest of the morning. Sub 4s, BQs, 35 minute PRs, etc. All of that hard work I had done was not paying off for me, but instead of being disappointed that it wasn’t my day I was happy that it was my TEAM’S day!

One final fast forward to last night. The A-Team sits at a local pizza joint, drinking a few beers, and having a nice dinner. All chatting, exchanging war stories, give congrats, talking about our experiences over the last 5 years, 5 months, and 5 days. Once again, I realize, this is a team… This is a different definition of team than the definition given earlier in this blog though. We have picked each other up, we have helped each other out, we have exchanged resources, we have been happy together, frustrated together, hurt together, and strong together. Without each other, a lot of us wouldn’t have made it this far. A variation of the definition of team that I found states… “a group of individuals that come together to achieve a common goal”. This is The A-Team. We have come together to fight ourselves, rather than another team to achieve our common goals, whatever they may be. Even though we talked of the sadness of the A-Team ending, it won’t. We will all keep on training, we will all cross paths, and we will all check in and push each other. Above all, even though there will be breaks in our training, we will all continue to be a part of the larger team we call Rogue. It is good to remember that you CAN do things on your own, but it is so much better when you don’t HAVE to do them on your own. Strength truly does come in numbers. When I walk through the doors at San Marcos Street, or when it comes time for me to walk through the doors at the new Rogue location I will remember one thing and try to pass it on. Whether you are looking for it or not, your team is there for you. All you have to do is open your eyes and see them.