Most runners have had the experience: you train like crazy, you prep for a race with good nutrition and decent sleep, the weather on race day is not so bad, and somehow, the race itself still falls apart.
The most extreme memory I have of that type of “falling apart” might involve me, standing under the Colorado bridge (less than a mile from the finish) in the American Discovery Trail Marathon, having an internal negotiation about whether I would run it in, or walk it in. Did I mention I was just standing there?
Falling apart on a smaller scale happens to runners and racers all the time. And on that small scale, it’s happened to me. Every. Single. Time. I. Race. In. The. Garden.
This year I’m hoping for different results, and to that end, I’m training a bit differently. Once a week, and sometimes twice, I am running 75-90% of the course. This gives me a wide variety of weather conditions in which to practice, as well as an opportunity to push through some of the spots on the course that historically have plagued me not just in sections, but in context.
Yesterday, I ran at around 10:30am. It was 70 degrees out, and I ran 100% of the course. And I clocked it a full 5 and a half minutes faster than my fastest recorded race time.
There’s some solace in this. Whether I am able to meet or beat that time at the race, I’ll know where my baseline is and what I’m capable of doing. But count on it: come race day, I will try, with every screaming muscle and every determined step, to capitalize on this capability.
One of the things that’s always interested me is the self-talk that helps runners through challenging courses. One of my personal favorite tricks to get through a race is to check my time, do a quick calculation of projected running time remaining, and then to tell myself: “I’ve done a lot of things that were a lot worse than this for a lot longer. I can do ANYTHING for 45 minutes.”
What self-talk keeps YOU from falling apart? Do you tell yourself that you love hills? That you’re stronger than you know? That you want it more than the person jockeying to pass you? Or do you simply slip into a quiet, focused space?
Whatever you tell yourself, I’d love to hear about it, and – in the spirit of full disclosure – I just might use it myself. Who knows? It may be the thing that keeps me from falling apart on race day.
Comment
:) I ran it and finished Kristy. Great job out there!
Julie, what a great story. Please know I will likely channel your determination to F-I-N-I-S-H. :) Are you running GOG?
Great article, thank you! Someone who understands how one can unravel... quickly.
I bonked at my first Ascent last year. I mean ... laying-in-the-trail-with-calf-muscles-refusing-to-move... bonked after Barr Camp. Between the physical pain I was experiencing and the disbelief that this may be the end of my race ... I began to psychologically unravel. That made everything worse. I had a decision to make. The decision was F-I-N-I-S-H. That finish meant more to me than anything, and it taught me that TIME is not everything but FINISHING is!
You'll do GREAT at GOG...
Huh. I've never counted steps or breaths. Gonna have to try that! Kristy, see my new blog post about breaking through that threshold...I've been struggling with it as of late, too! Having some successes, some not so much. Here's to that next hill and a chance at personal redemption!
Okay, Debbie, I have TOTALLY been there - the whole not viewing the elevation profile in advance thing. One time, on a new course with a long and a short race (the long was two laps, the short was one) I whizzed by the finish line and gasped "your course is LONG!!!"
Tim, I count steps too, but I also count breaths. I get 400 breaths to the mile, give or take ten. And, I'm pleased to report, there's not a single hill in the Garden that is longer than 225 breaths. Do NOT ask me how I know. :)
Actually, I think Debbie is on to something ... waffles!
I waffle between trying to concentrate on what my body is doing during runs, thinking it will help me avoid the pain, and then usually giving way to doing things like mental math in my head just to get my mind off of my body in pain!
But like you, Kristy, I have many times used the "c'mon, this is only going to last another 20 minutes - you've done 20 minutes of sheer hell before - you can do this, too!" kind of talk. Marathons, especially: "you've only got 1 mile left. ANYBODY can do 1 mile - you have too! Just do it!" These are the things I do to prevent falling apart, when I'm doing more battle in my mind than on my feet.
You're best to simply train to above and beyond what you need, but that isn't always possible. And Lord knows I've fallen apart at the most inopportune times.
My worst was during the Summer Round-up Trail Run many years ago. Like most years, it was a new course, and I didn't bother to learn more about the course ahead of time. The last mile included an impossibly steep 13% grade hill, which I could see for 3 miles back.
As soon as I saw it, I told myself, "you're not going to run that thing!" I began that self-talk and almost had myself convinced to just do it, no matter how slow, just do it. I got 20 steps into the hill and felt the slightest twinge in my foot. That did it - I simply started walking, and I used the twinge to give my brain a reason to shut up. I ran the last 1/4 mile with no issues.
Later I was mad at myself for deeming the twinge worthy of stopping. What I believe happened is I used all my energy trying to convince myself to run that hill - I simply had no more energy to actually run it. I try to remember that - that mental gymnastics also take precious energy away and to not overthink anything.
So it's mental math for me from now on. Just to ignore what is coming up as well as to make the present situation more bearable.
I usually fall apart before I even get out the door. Call me a head case, but these things help my mental game: 1. Be rested, eat right and hydrate before my run so that I begin with a degree of confidence. 2. Measure my runs by "time ran" rather than miles. So If I know I'm going for an hour I can always tell myself "20 minutes down and 40 to go, I'm a third of the way home." 3. This is really psychotic. I count my strides, 150 = one minute almost to the second. So I'll play number games with myself and gain encouragement by accomplishing a hard "750-stride" (five minutes) effort on a hill. 4. The thing the helps me the most is to break up the run into pieces, run to the top of the hill, run to the stop sign, or tempo for one mile. Set and accomplish little goals. 5. Finally, on long runs, I've learned to just take it easy for 80 percent (or more) of it. Just enjoy the movement without pushing myself, which I naturally want to do. :)
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