Women's Distance Festival
I was apprehensive before the start of the Women's Distance Festival this year. Two weeks of stress, two weeks of craziness and a still very tender ankle do not lend confidence to a race. While I'd survived the Neilson challenge the weekend before with a decent time, something about trying to run another mile at that same pace seemed beyond challenging. But that didn't mean I wouldn't try! I'm not sure I know how to really moderate the effort when it comes to the shorter races. It's always all out from the gun, even when that's not the smartest way to race.
As usual the shorter distances, I made sure I got a good warm up before going to socialize with the rest of my Fieldhouse Brewers Cup teammates. We were a small group, but made sure that the neon green was in as many photos as possible. I was feeling slightly overwhelmed with the number of people at the race, so it was nice to have a small group to be with.
The start terrified me this year. Sprinting across the uneven grass to get to the trails sounded like the worst thing ever for my ankle. Not wanting to get caught up in traffic and risk stumbling and reinjuring my ankle, I started hard. Much harder then I should have, given my goal pacing. Off the grass and I was able to settle into a steady effort, but it felt hard. Harder then it should have for that early in the race. I shook it off and focused on running smooth and keeping my wayward left elbow close. Running in second, I was right round my usual Neilson companions, so I knew the pace was good. I also knew even before hitting the first mile that I wouldn't be able to hold it. But how long would I be able to maintain? That was the new question.
Like almost every 5k race held in North Monument Valley, the Women's Distance Festival is held on a course I've run close to 100 times. Every week during HS cross country, sometimes 3xs in a week, for four years. Two years of college cross country. Training on the course and other races. It's a blessing and a curse to be that familiar with a course. No surprises ever - sprint across the race, race up the middle trail and climb the steep little hill to the inner trail closest to the houses. It's a gradual up hill as we run on the east side of Boddington Field to reach mile 1. Then plunge down the hill, across to the creekside trail and down to the turning tree. Loop around the tree and head north again on what used to be single track. On the east side of the start/finish area and then climb up the "stupid hill" to mile 2. Retrace steps around Boddington to the north edge of the park and then race down the creekside trail towards the finish in the grass. Simple. Nothing complicated. I could run it in my sleep. And because I was so familiar with the course, when I was struggling as we dropped down the hill after mile 1, I knew it would be a hard last two miles.
I was passed by one woman before the turning tree, dropping into third overall. I tried keeping pace, but couldn't get the turnover I needed out of my legs. She gradually started pulling away, extending the gap with each stride. To my surprise, I really didn't care that much. I was in survival mode, no longer feeling comfortable or strong running. As we charged up the Stupid Hill, my Fieldhouse teammate Elizabeth caught me. She looked smooth and very quickly powered away from me as we dodged the oncoming runners around Boddington Field. One mile left and I was attempting to do math - how slow could I be and still break 21 minutes? Hard math for a the middle of a race! In the end, I gave up on the math and just tried willing my legs to turn over quicker.
There would be no sprint finish this year. I could see the clock ticking up as I entered the grass finishing stretch, but sprinting was not high on my list of priorities. My ankle was aching and I just wanted to survive through the finish. I ran carefully on the grass finish, watching my footing more then the clock. It was just enough to break 21, as I finished in 20:58. A little slower then last year (20:42 in 2017) but I'll take it. It was one of those days where I was happy to just be able to run.
As usual the shorter distances, I made sure I got a good warm up before going to socialize with the rest of my Fieldhouse Brewers Cup teammates. We were a small group, but made sure that the neon green was in as many photos as possible. I was feeling slightly overwhelmed with the number of people at the race, so it was nice to have a small group to be with.
The start terrified me this year. Sprinting across the uneven grass to get to the trails sounded like the worst thing ever for my ankle. Not wanting to get caught up in traffic and risk stumbling and reinjuring my ankle, I started hard. Much harder then I should have, given my goal pacing. Off the grass and I was able to settle into a steady effort, but it felt hard. Harder then it should have for that early in the race. I shook it off and focused on running smooth and keeping my wayward left elbow close. Running in second, I was right round my usual Neilson companions, so I knew the pace was good. I also knew even before hitting the first mile that I wouldn't be able to hold it. But how long would I be able to maintain? That was the new question.
Like almost every 5k race held in North Monument Valley, the Women's Distance Festival is held on a course I've run close to 100 times. Every week during HS cross country, sometimes 3xs in a week, for four years. Two years of college cross country. Training on the course and other races. It's a blessing and a curse to be that familiar with a course. No surprises ever - sprint across the race, race up the middle trail and climb the steep little hill to the inner trail closest to the houses. It's a gradual up hill as we run on the east side of Boddington Field to reach mile 1. Then plunge down the hill, across to the creekside trail and down to the turning tree. Loop around the tree and head north again on what used to be single track. On the east side of the start/finish area and then climb up the "stupid hill" to mile 2. Retrace steps around Boddington to the north edge of the park and then race down the creekside trail towards the finish in the grass. Simple. Nothing complicated. I could run it in my sleep. And because I was so familiar with the course, when I was struggling as we dropped down the hill after mile 1, I knew it would be a hard last two miles.
I was passed by one woman before the turning tree, dropping into third overall. I tried keeping pace, but couldn't get the turnover I needed out of my legs. She gradually started pulling away, extending the gap with each stride. To my surprise, I really didn't care that much. I was in survival mode, no longer feeling comfortable or strong running. As we charged up the Stupid Hill, my Fieldhouse teammate Elizabeth caught me. She looked smooth and very quickly powered away from me as we dodged the oncoming runners around Boddington Field. One mile left and I was attempting to do math - how slow could I be and still break 21 minutes? Hard math for a the middle of a race! In the end, I gave up on the math and just tried willing my legs to turn over quicker.
There would be no sprint finish this year. I could see the clock ticking up as I entered the grass finishing stretch, but sprinting was not high on my list of priorities. My ankle was aching and I just wanted to survive through the finish. I ran carefully on the grass finish, watching my footing more then the clock. It was just enough to break 21, as I finished in 20:58. A little slower then last year (20:42 in 2017) but I'll take it. It was one of those days where I was happy to just be able to run.
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