The Go Saint Louis Half-Marathon is in the bag...which is where my performance needs to stay.
This race was my first "out-of-town" race in my new race career. It was exciting at first, but with the thoughts of traveling over three hours to STL, finding the hotel, meeting friends on Saturday, getting back to the hotel late, and getting ready in a small bathroom and in the hall, I became less and less excited as the weeks wore one. But in the last week leading up to the race, I found the needed excitement...this race wasn't a precursor, a training run, or an obligation. It was a race that I wanted to do, and do well. Only half would come to fruition.
We arrived in STL on Saturday afternoon, after a pleasant drive from Kansas City with my wife Kyndal, and our two girls, Madilyn and Abigail. It is amazing to me the difference a car DVD player makes in a child's disposition being stuck in a car for so long. It is truly one of the smartest inventions ever created.
We made it to the Chaifetz Arena around 11:30 in the afternoon to find a very green, warm, and aesthetically beautiful Saint Louis. The psychological effects of such an environment was very positive to my attitude, as I found myself staring off into the baseball fields, brick parkways, and red brick buildings, while the Army humvee blasted abridged rap music. I picked up my bib, got my shirt, stood in awe at the Disney Marathon booth (those medals are HUGE), and hurried back outside to meet my family. After all, I can only expect a minimal amount of patience from little girls...they don't care about the expo...they care about the dog show at Purina Farms.
We drove to Purina Farms (another 40 minute drive) where we met several college friends and their families. Now that is a place to which I will return. Then it was off to a friend's house to visit and eat.
Race Morning
The alarm went off at 4 am, but I had been up several times during the night...not with anxiety, but from sleeping with my 5-year old. But, I would trade sleep any day for getting to cuddle with my daughter. Plus, she loves it, and that means more to me. Into the bathroom, where I sequestered myself so as not to wake up everyone, where I took care of all the human necessities, and dressed. It was going to be warm, so I wore a sleeveless shirt and shorts...no gloves...no arm warmers...quite a change from my training. I ate a Cliff bar (pop tarts are better), drink a bottle of chia fresca, took a salt tablet, drank more water, gatorade, and into the hall to stretch. I walked nine blocks to the starting area, visited the bathroom a couple of time to empty my bladder, and waited at the 7:40 pace corral. I have been running consistently over the last several weeks, and I was prepared to run a sub-1:40 half. Everything was lined up.
Race
After the gun went off (I don't think it was a starting gun, but rather the RD yelling "Go") I began running on top 12,000 other runners, and 12,000 runners running on top of me. It was a typical start. But my bladder has refilled itself, and at mile 2 I made a 45 second pit stop. Past Busch stadium, which is very cool, we headed south towards the Budwieser plant. I was loose, my heart rate was slowed down, and I was breathing calmly. As we turned into the plant, I could smell the hops and even looked up to take in the wonderfully architected buildings.
Exiting the greatest workplace in the world (next to Disneyworld, probably), we headed back downtown, past the starting area, and turned to proceed past St. Patrick's cathedral. On the side of the route were three priests, one of whom was throwing holy water on the runners. I veered off to my right to make sure I received the race-in-progress blessing. I crossed myself with a smile, and hoped none of it was sacreligious.
We ran up Olive (?) on a very long incline. Then things started to go wrong. Around mile 5 - 6, my legs started cramping, not terribly, but unusually. I never cramp during a race, or practice run. Then my energy hit the floor. I had nothing. I took a GU, drank some water, and pushed hard up the hill. I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. It felt like my body was shutting down. So I had to do something I had never done in a race...I started walking.
This would continue nine more times from mile 7 - 12...reduced to a pathetic walk for about 30 seconds, calling myself names to get started again. I became frustrated with my performance, unable to ascertain any information from my body through a systems check, other than something was very wrong.
As we proceeded up Market, I could see our hotel where Kyndal and the the girls would be waiting for me...no way was I going to walk within eyesight of them. So, I pushed hard, crested over the hill, and there they were. I ran over to them, hugged both of my girls, looked at Kyndal, who asked how it was going. I replied, "not well." And then I took off down the hill. Only 1 mile left, and all I had left was what I gave. I kicked up the pace for about a minute, and then had to slow back down. My calfs were cramped, my head was pounding, my hands swollen, feet numb...feet were numb.
Running across the finish line, my first inclination was to rip off my shoes and throw them at the Arch. I was really unhappy. My chip time was 1:45...with walking 10 times. Not good. It only took about 30 minutes to collect myself, get my stomach feeling better, and along the road I walked to get back to the hotel, I was already motivated to fix whatever it was that was wrong (and there seems to be a lot to fix), and get ready for my next half-marathon...Hospital Hill, where the heat and humidity will be tough, and the hills will be more brutal. But the medal was pretty, even though the lesson was ugly.
I will come back to race STL next year, and the PR had better happen...no more bad races.
