On Saturday I completed the toughest race of my life - the "Run from the Taxman" half marathon at Lapham Peak State Park (because it's on April 15, get it?). To give that some context, let me tell you about some past recipients of this award:
My first ever 5k, when I lost the trail and ended up running more like 4 miles instead of the intended 3.1 miles (a huge deal to me then, since I'd never run that far!)
The 10k where I experienced intestinal distress. That's enough detail for the internet.
My first full marathon (because obviously).
There were some gentle warnings on the race's website that should have tipped me off. They mention hills and trail running. A few days before the race, the race director sent out a reminder of the details and added "this is not a PR course." (PR is runner's speak for Personal Record.) He also mentioned that the course was slightly longer than 13.1 miles. And let's not forget, Lapham PEAK is in the name of the park. I cheerfully ignored all these warnings.
I was also pretty under-trained. I was supposed to run 245 miles over the course of 12 weeks to prepare. I ran 126 miles. And I committed the cardinal sin of skipping some of my long runs. 4 of them, specifically.
Nonetheless, I felt quite confident on race morning. I ran a marathon last year, and as part of that I'd run something like 6 half marathons as part of my training. This was not a big deal. I had no expectations for my time, which I expected to be a bit slow due to my lack of careful preparation. I just wanted to enjoy running in the woods.
The Start
90 runners lined up at the start line. It was surprisingly relaxed. There was just a verbal countdown and then people started trotting across the start line. We ran this way for a few hundred yards and then we came to the first hill. People stopped and walked up the hill.
I figured I'd started a bit too far towards the back of the pack and tried to weave through the walkers up the hill. I always try to run faster up hills. It's a little trick I play with myself to increase my motivation (the faster you get up the hill, the sooner you can slow down), and it's actually easier on my short legs to use the momentum of running.
Then we came to another hill. People walked again. I ran through them as best I could. A few minutes later, the next hill, and people walked.
By now, you have probably noticed the pattern. Perhaps you would have been wiser than me and realized that these people knew something I didn't yet know: an entire half of the course was like this. Not only were these hills, these were steep, rocky hills. I kept running through.
After about 2 miles, I finally decided to try walking up the hills with the rest of the group. A woman asked me if I'd run this race before, and advised me that most of the course was like this except for a flat grassy section. I started to have some concerns.
The Middle
I continued on the race, mostly running but taking walk breaks when the need struck. I was in a group of about a dozen runners who kept passing each other then being passed, as we alternated between walking and jogging.
The route consisted of two loops around the trail system. There was a 10k race that had started at the same time as the half marathon, and those runners only needed to complete one loop. As we approached the end of the first loop, I considered dropping down to the 10k distance. But now the run was feeling pretty good. Not easy, but doable. I could do another six miles. So I started the second loop.
I alternated between jogging and walking up the hills. I met another runner who'd never run the race before either. He said his friend recommended it as a training opportunity for the ultra-marathon they were doing this summer. It certainly was good training!
Mile 8 was when the race turned. The first aid station with water on the loop was four miles from the start line, which meant I'd have to run something like 5 or 6 miles with just the water in my little 6 ounce water bottle. It was getting warmer and sunnier than I'd expected (it was 80 degrees by the end of the race). I was getting thirsty. It felt like the aid station would never appear. I tried to remember what the trail looked like before the aid station had come into sight last time, but nothing was distinctive. I walked for awhile.
Finally, after nearly 11 miles, the aid station appeared. I refilled my water bottle and continued. My legs were screaming from climbing those hills. I'm familiar with the tightness that develops towards the end of a long run or a race, and the strategy is to keep the same pace. At a certain point it becomes harder to walk than it is to continue running at the same steady pace, so you just keep running through the discomfort. That didn't work here; these were muscles that weren't used to being engaged in endurance challenges!
The Walking
Somewhere after mile 8 I realized I wasn't going to finish the race anywhere near my usual time. I was blithely in denial about how far I'd miss the mark for several miles, thinking that perhaps a 2:20 or 2:30 finish time was realistic.
I walked for the better part of the "easy" grassy section. So did the guys around me. There were a couple of spectators cheering us as we walked slowly up the rolling hill, faces undoubtedly painted with misery. It was a strange place to be.
Around mile 12 I managed to jog most of the way to the finish line, but I refused to believe the spectators who told me, "You're almost there! The finish line is close!"
The New PR
I ran 13.5 miles in 2:52. I was delighted when I crossed the finish line. I'd gone into the race with no expectations other than to go for a 13-mile run and enjoy the park. I had no goal time in mind. I knew I'd neglected the training schedule.
For me, 2:52 was a laughably bad time under normal (flat) conditions. Which is why I immediately decided to adopt it as a new type of PR: a "personal worst," the floor of how slowly I could expect to finish. Barring some other set of extraordinary circumstances that will make another good story (or the passage of several decades, at which point I expect to be happy to still be running), I don't expect to run another half marathon this slowly.
I have never been this sore and exhausted after a race. This half marathon was harder than my first half marathon, and harder than my full marathon. But it will hold a special place in my memory as the worst race of my life (so far).
This may all seem very negative, but I feel very positive about the experience. I'm glad that I decided to run the race despite my lack of preparation. It will be a fun one to remember.