| PR'S |
|---|
| 5k 16:48 |
| 8k 26:56 |
| 15k 52:40 |
| 10mi 56:49 |
| 26.2mi 2:43:43 |
Twin Cities 2011 Race Recap
It was decided. I was going to run my first marathon. The pursuit was inevitable; my father had run dozen's of marathons and ever since I had started following in his Nike-clad footsteps, people asked when I would run the marathon. I had always hoped my first would have been alongside my father, but life threw us for a hell of a loop, so I would have to take this thing on my own instead.
It was January 2nd 2011 and my 30th birthday was on the horizon. Claudin and I were running through a beautiful mist on the James River Heritage Trail when I finally set the goal. We talked about it during the whole run; new year, new milestone, new goals. We went through the possible fall marathons: Chicago, Philadelphia, Marine Corps... but Twin Cities Marathon seemed to be most perfect fit and that year it fell on October 2nd. It was all very auspiciously falling into place: me, a twin, running the Twin Cities Marathon, on the day of my 30th birthday, which was also the 30th anniversary of the race. Either the stars would align or it would all get sucked into a black hole.
Imagine a quick montage of the seasons changing as my running shoes first traverse a snowy path, which leads to a muddy one, dotted with lime-green buds and then changes to a hazy one, thick with cattails lazily flopped on the bank of the canal. It took nearly ten months, but that trail led me to Minneapolis and when I arrived, it was everything that time of year was supposed to be. The air whispered a coolness yet the sun, which filtered through the changing leaves, provided a soft warmth that made you not mind briskness. Race morning came early, that first Sunday of October, to the sound of my alarm setting off at five a.m. The night had been kind to me and I awoke well-rested, excited for the miles that lay ahead. I snacked on a banana and sipped on Nuun water as I prepared a breakfast of maple-sweetened oatmeal. My roommates, Claudin and Andy, were awake at this point and kept me relaxed while I went on with my pre-race rituals.
At six a.m. I parted ways with my cheer-squad and headed to the race headquarters where a bus would take the elite athletes to our staging area. There, we could leave our bags and warm-up, while also being very close to the starting line. I met up with an old college teammate who was also running the marathon and we did a shake out jog together. Following the short trot, I did some speed drills and stretching. Time passed quickly and before I new it, it was time to put on my racing kit and flats. As we were escorted to the starting line, I adjusted the arm bands and gloves that would keep my limbs warm on the crisp, fall morning. Then, I double checked that the energy gel packs were in place within the pockets of my shorts and that my shoe laces were double knotted. Once in the bullpen and with ten minutes until gun time, I did some dynamic stretches (mostly to keep the nerves from settling in my muscles). With each crescendo during the singing of the National Anthem, my excitement grew. We were called to our places and I found a spot next to my old teammate, where we quietly wished each other luck and waited to the gun to go off. In those seconds prior, I remember staring down the course that lay ahead with an intense focus. I didn't know what the route would be like but I felt prepared to take it. We were flanked on both sides by crowds of supporters and the energy was almost palpable.
The gun fired, the runners charged, and the crowd roared. We were off, en masse, but separately chasing our own ambitions. With the adrenaline coursing though me, I felt like a caged animal, pent up and raging to get out. Wow, this is surprisingly slow. These runners are jamming me up! But that was just the nerves talking because the pace was actually quick. And deep down, I knew it too. As tempting as it was to roll down that first quarter mile with the rest of the group, I had a GPS watch and strict instructions from my coach to stay in control. So despite how easy it felt, I reigned myself in, took a deep breath, and relaxed into 6:25 mile pace. That physical act of slowing down seemed to do the same with time and I felt as though everything around me was moving in slow motion. The realization hit me, I am running my first marathon! I was overwhelmed by emotion as I took it all in: the other runners around me, the crowd and their deafening cheers, the city and its buildings, the weather, my body. It was all perfect. Those first two miles passed in a blur of awe. I searched the crowd for Claudin and Andy, who had planned that 2-mile spot as their first check point with me. When I finally spotted them, I practically lost it because after months of this solitary pursuit, I was sharing all that I had worked for with the two most important people in my life.
Around mile three I caught up to a girl I had met before the race. She was running with a former high school rival of hers who was now a good friend. We made our introductions and shared our goals. Although I hadn't exactly set a time goal, it was my secret desire to hit the US Olympic Trails qualifying standard of 2:45 or better. Both women expressed that they were aiming for the same result as they had both previously just narrowly missed the standard. I let the two of them do their talking and catching up, while coasting alongside them for the next few miles. I was feeling great, not really listening to their conversation and instead, enjoying the views. Twin Cities has earned the reputation of being the "most beautiful urban marathon" and it was entirely merited. The leaves were changing into their autumn hues and much of the course runs under a canopy of mosaicked oranges and yellows. As we wound around lake after lake, my mind wandered through the previous 300 days; the long runs and workouts, even the easy jogs, that had all brought me to this point. It's all come down to this. This one day. These 26.2 miles.
Even on the most remote points of the course, there were spectators cheering with an earnest enthusiasm for every runner. It was still early in the race but, I was comfortably rolling through each mile with ease. I was looking forward to mile seven where I was expecting to see Claudin and Andy again. That anticipation made the five miles between then and their last sighting fly by. The area was crowded as we approached the mile marker and I almost went through the checkpoint without seeing either of them. At the last second, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and then heard Andy call my name out in encouragement Yeah, Luci! He ran along side me on the other side of the wall of onlookers. I took advantage of his proximity to toss him my gloves over the heads of all those people. The blood was steadily circulating and I was warmed up to the point I no longer needed them. I still felt very in control of the pace and was beginning to feel antsy about picking it up, but the plan was to stay well within myself through the first half of the race, so I stopped looking at my watch and let my legs fall in to cruise control.
As the miles continued to click by, I zoned out, thinking back on the early morning runs on the canal when it was barely light out, feeling like I was still in a dream as the fog rolled off the Potomac River and seemingly swallowed me up. Then my thoughts would turn to track workouts at the local high school, grinding out interval after interval before work. In other moments, I would be holding conversations with my dad,
I quickly lost both my running buddies and was on my own, running people down, and rolling along. Johnny Cash's "Get Rhythm" popped in my head and I periodically began chanting my own version of the song: getta' rhythm, when you hit a groove, c'mon, getta' rhythm when you hit a groove. The spectators were were cheering for me, reading my bib which had "SMITH" printed on it. Sometimes, they'd root for "green", which was the color of my singlet. In either case, it was so encouraging to have these strangers so sincerely supporting me. I used their enthusiasm to build a momentum on which to keep cruising. There were whole families out on the course and it was the little ones I especially wanted to impress so I high-fived a couple of kids on the sidelines, showing them See guys, running is fun! They loved it and their energy translated into my own as I unconciously crept down into the six-teen's territory, still feeling like I was holding back. My next checkpoint with Claudin and Andy was coming up at mile 17 and again, I was amazed at how quickly time had passed. It's been eleven miles since I saw them last? It does not feel like it's been that long. I was thrilled to see them and wanted to let them know how I was feeling (and maybe even show off a little) so along with another huge smile, I gave them two thumbs up and then made a goofy face. Look! I'm totally in control. I've got this thing in the bag! Despite that display of confidence though, I was still weary of the remaining miles.
Mile 20, in particular, has gained infamy for being the point when most runners "hit the wall". In the back of my mind, I was still dreading it and was anxious to get through it before pressing any further. I was so wrapped up with that concern that I practically blew past the dreaded marker without noticing. Before long I realized I was on the Franklin Ave bridge, crossing over into St Paul where the race would end. I knew at that point I was nearing mile 22 - the home stretch. I was going to be OK. Despite my best efforts I couldn't get any more that 1/3 of my second gel down but wasn't worried because I had all the energy needed to finish strong. This was the "hilly" part of the course but I kept rolling and hardly noticed the inclines. Once we were on Summit Ave we had about 5k to go. I was almost finished and still on fire. I told myself that at mile marker 23, I'd really put it into high gear and just see what I had left. I kept remembering to stay relaxed and would shake my arms at my sides to loosen my neck and shoulders. The crowd continued to encourage me by shouting out that I was "looking good". I caught a glimpse at the clock by mile 24 and did some quick math. Holy Cow, I'm on track to qualify!
I had been ignoring my Garmin but now wanted to see just how far under the standard I could get. I was cruising in the 5:50s now and was definitely starting to push out of my comfort zone. My tired mind starting taunting me with negative thoughts. It told me that my hamstrings were bordering on cramps and that I should slow back down. I was still very in tune and in control of my body though, so I was able to shut those thoughts out. In retrospect, I probably could've handled the last 10k at that, but it would've been a challenge, especially during the final 5k. I really would've had to fight some major demons then, but it would've been worth the extra seconds it would've shaved off my final time. With about a half mile to go, I shifted into the next gear. As I headed down hill on John Ireland Blvd and into the final stretch, the road was lined thick with spectators. The capital building was in sight and the finish just ahead. It was thrilling and surreal to see the end so near considering all hte miles I had covered. The crowd exploded and with them, so did my emotions. I smiled and waved, which psyched everyone up even more and in turn, helped me find one final gear. I wanted to put on a good show, for all their efforts, so I kicked it into high gear, which helping me finish the last mile of my first marathon in 5:40.
Just before crossing the line, I pointed up to the sky and thought of my dad. It sounds cheesy, especially as I write it out now, but in my head, I said to him, This one's for you, Papi. Thanks for helping me along the way. Then I pumped both fists in victory and it was all over. As soon as I stopped running I expected my legs to be dead and collapse out from under me. To my surprise, everything was still working. I was walking and breathing comfortably within seconds. I didn't even feel like I had just finished a long run. A race volunteer came to my side and ushered me to the elite athlete tent to make sure i got there OK. It was thoughtful but unnecessary, during our short walk together, her complimented me on my finish and told me it was the fastest one he had seen by a woman all day. Once in the tent I thought Oh my god, I just qualified for the Olympic Trials! Wow, that was easy. Where are Claudin and Andy? I hope they find me soon. We're going to have a blast celebrating tonight! Oh, free massages, I should get one. But I need to chug this water and rehydrate first. And should I cool down before the massage? No! I just ran 26.2 miles, Stupid. I should just stretch. Did I really just do that? Man I feel good. That was awesome! I can't wait to do it again! The stream of conscience went on until I finally saw Claudin and Andy. The rest of the day was bliss. Hands down, one of the best birthdays ever.
