Friday, two of my sisters, my niece, and I loaded the car for our annual road trip to Duluth. We have our traditions: grab coffee and pick up subs on the way, check into the hotel early, walk over to grab our bibs, then watch the 5k. This year, some of our traditions didn’t go as usual.
I skipped out on the coffee. Yes, I know, very atypical behavior. I decided to run the 5k Friday night, and coffee plus racing equals a bathroom emergency, so no coffee for me. When we arrived at our hotel, our room wasn’t ready, so we walked over to pick up our bibs. Yikes, by changing our routine, we ended up at the race expo during a very busy time. We snapped a few pictures before
returning to our hotel. For some reason, they gave us a lakeside room, even though I reserved the city side (we like the city view because you can see the racecourse from our room). This ended up being a hidden blessing because we were able to watch several ships go in and out of the canal from our balcony. Yep, a balcony—that was another bonus. Everyone else ate their subs; I again skipped because, you know, avoiding a bathroom emergency. I geared up and walked over to the start of the 5k.
Although I have raced Grandma’s weekend for almost a decade, I have never raced the 5k. True confessions: I really don’t like 5ks. The 5k came with the bib that I purchased, so I decided to use it as a shakeout run before the half marathon Saturday morning. If I had been using this for a specific time goal, I would’ve been extremely disappointed. The course was packed, and even though we were supposed to line up by our projected pace, there were walkers blocking the course throughout the race. I even had one lady push past me and scrape my arm with her fingernails as she attempted to overtake slower runners/walkers. I settled into a slower pace and just tried to look at the lake, the crowds, and then I spied my sisters and niece cheering from our balcony. I was probably running a little faster than I should've been, and it didn’t feel that great either—I’m not really an evening runner—but I finished, earning myself a medal and a bottle of water. This is a race that I do not feel the need to do again, although I did get a nice sweatshirt for doing the challenge.
Back in our room, I told my crew that I didn’t really feel like racing in the morning. My sisters had the same attitude, as all three of us were not in the condition that we would usually be for this race weekend. I was just getting back into running after recovering from muscle strains, one of my sisters had just completed a marathon and was still recovering from racing, my other sister’s life became busy, and she was unable to put in her usual prep. The saddest case was my niece, who would be unable to race due to a stress fracture. I wrote my prayer list on my arm for the morning race, then we went to bed early, tossing and turning. Well, I actually slept well, but everyone else tossed and turned. I woke up to a text from my new daughter-in-law with the exact words of encouragement I needed for the day. I rolled over and told my crew, “Fine, I'll race today!”
At 3:00 a.m., we started the coffee, ate our breakfast, dressed in layers, and walked to the bus, which was on the road shortly after 4:30. Once we arrived at the starting line, we found a spot in line for the bathroom and then huddled together to stay warm until the 6:00 a.m. start. Another blessing was that the forecasted rain decided to hold off. All three of us lined up by the 2:05 pacer (a person who runs the race carrying a sign with their predicted finish time and pace). I figured I would run it around 2 hours, and my sisters planned to run 2:05-2:10. Once the race started, I waved to my sisters and told them I would see them later. My first mile was at the 2-hour pace, but I was farther back from the pacer. I actually felt pretty good, so I decided to catch up to the pacer during mile 2 and came to find out she was running “hot”! Her sign pace said 9:09 minutes per mile, but she was actually running 8:45. Surprisingly, this pace felt good to me. She announced to the group around us that she was going to hold this pace through mile 6 and then slow down. At mile 5.5, I decided that I felt well enough to pull ahead and see what my body could do. There were times when I questioned this decision, like mile 8 when my legs were tired or mile 9 going up Lemon Drop Hill, but I pressed on. When I reached the top of the hill and saw the sign that read 4.1 to go, I dug deep. I wasn’t looking at my watch or following someone else; I was going by feel.
Side note: my training for the half marathon was also out of my normal. I typically run at least a 13-mile long run, sometimes more than once, and often run up to a 15-mile long run in preparation. This time around, since I was recovering from muscle strains, I was more focused on strength and mobility with only four days per week of running. My longest run of this training cycle was only 10 miles, and I had just four weeks of doing anything with speed.
Starting mile 10, I felt strong. I ran the familiar roads through Duluth, turned the corner close to the DECC, and was shocked to see the 1:55 pacer. I knew I could catch her. I slowly increased my speed and by the time I saw my niece cheering in the finish stretch, I was running a 7:37 per minute pace. I crossed the finish line feeling satisfied and accomplished with my 1:52:56 finish.
This race weekend did not go as planned; it went better than my plan. I had originally planned on running the full marathon but ended up running a strong half marathon, having a lake view, spending time with some of my favorite people, being encouraged by loved ones, and discovering that I can run strong by running less. Now, am I going to take up lifting more and running less? I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m open to God shaking up my plans.
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