Tobacco Road Race Report #3

Soak Up The Experience

A race report by Ursula Forrester

Every race is a new experience.  And that experience is unique for every person there.  Last Sunday was the Tobacco Road marathon and half marathon (3/20/11).  It struck me so clearly at this race, over and over, that every person competing and completing an endurance race has a story to tell. It's so personal.

Sometimes my goal going into a race is clear and specific. Other times not so much. My goal was just to finish.  I wasn't prepared to try and set any personal records. I dropped to the half from the full because I knew I wasn't prepared for a full marathon.  I knew I could finish the half, even if it wasn't my best race.  My goal was to finish (and earn that medal), enjoy the day, and maybe even take pictures along the way....like old times. So, I lined up in the starting corral in all my usual running gear (plus compression socks...for the first time) and camera in hand.

Surprisingly, after the first mile, I got into my running groove and felt great.  The nagging pain I experienced in training recently in my left calf so far was not a problem. Good. Now that I felt warmed up, I settled into a comfortable pace. By Mile 2.5, I was stripping off my long-sleeved shirt and tying it around my waist. At Mile 3 we were on the trails. It still felt crowded (a little stop and go with my pacing) but comfortable.  I felt great and continued comfortably at a good pace.  I kept the 2:00 pace leader in my sights and slowly was closing the gap.  By Mile 6, I was only about 20 feet behind the 2:00 group and holding my own.  What a gorgeous day.  We were so lucky with this weather.  I smiled at volunteers and spectators.  I shouted out to other RMEC members as they passed on their return route from the turnaround. Go Ashley! Go Brian! Go Kevin!

By the time I reached Mile 7, my calf was starting to bother me.  Really!?!  I took a short walk break (and used my camera for the first time....why did I carry it?), but then picked back up and kept pushing my pace.  It's not too bad, I think. I felt good other than a little pain in my calf.  I kept passing more people I knew.  Elizabeth shouted to me.  Jeanette too.  And I saw Amber and Kitty.  It's so fun and exciting to have so many friends out there too.  But then at Mile 8.56, I felt a sharp pain in my calf.  OUCH!  It brought me to a screeching halt.  I was limping.  Noooooo!!!  I look at my watch and think to myself...I'm going to be limping 4.6 miles to the finish line.  This may take awhile.  But I kept moving forward.  And then I passed the beer table and hobble past it.  For a moment I thought about just hanging out there. They seemed like a fun bunch!  But I keep going and try to run in another quarter mile.  Oh, and I stopped to take a picture of a goat who was with some spectators.  You don't see that every day.  Maybe that's why I carried the camera!  I can run now, slowly and carefully.  It hurts.  But it hurt to walk too.

The next song served up on my iPod was "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. It was the inspiration and reminder I needed at that very moment. 

"You raise me up so I can stand on mountains.
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong when I am on your shoulders.
You raise me up to more than I can be."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and that wouldn't be the first time tears were shed that day. I kept going (at a slower but steady pace) and knew I'd make it to that finish line.  By Mile 11, I was back to running a decent pace.  The 2:10 pace leader passed me on the trails, but she was still in my sights.  I closed the gap and passed her a half mile before the finish. I finished with my fist in the air and a huge smile on my face.  My splits sort of tell the story too:

Mile 1 -- 9:48

Mile 2 -- 8:45

Mile 3 -- 9:36

Mile 4 -- 9:11

Mile 5 -- 8:55

Mile 6 -- 8:36

Mile 7 -- 9:48

Mile 8 -- 10:05

Mile 9 -- 10:52

Mile 10 -- 10:35

Mile 11 -- 11:00

Mile 12 -- 9:35

Mile 13 -- 9:35

Last .1 -- (8:44 pace)

FINISH -- 2:08:11

I finished strong even though I was hurt.  The race wasn't about my time.  Ultimately, it was about doing the best I could do, on that day; Overcoming whatever I encountered and soaking in the experience; Recognizing the various levels of personal accomplishment taking place around me.  

After I finished and put my clothes back on (you know, my long track pants and jacket), I ventured (limped) back to the finish line area to watch marathoners finish (and more half marathoners).  I saw Greg and stood with him to watch for RMEC folks to finish.  He ran a PR in the half.  It turns out there were a lot of race PRs for our group that day. There were even several who qualified to go to the Boston Marathon (a difficult feat and one many marathoners dream of achieving). I was anxious to start seeing our club members coming in.  Among them would be my husband, who for the first time decided he was going to try and qualify for Boston.  He'd completed 13 previous marathon but this is the first time he believed a BQ finish was possible.  He hoped this would be his day.  I did too.  

While we waited, we witnessed quite a few half marathon finishers coming in too.....finishing in 2:51....2:55....3:01...3:07.  One thing was so evident.  Regardless of your finishing time, the joy and happiness of finishing and that immense sense of accomplishment was the same.  Whether you're my friend Kevin finishing in 1:33 or the woman wearing neon stripy tights who crossed at 3:09, it was a personal celebration at the finish line.  

Greg and I were keeping a close watch on the clock. I remember saying to him that Michael should be rounding the corner in the next three minutes if he's going to qualify.  Then, I see Dave....the first marathon finisher from our club.  YAY!!!  The time on the clock is 3:14.  I keep watching, now wringing my hands and feeling nervous when suddenly, there's Michael!  YES!!! I yell out "There he is!!! He's going to make it.  He's going to qualify."  I start to cheer and cry (and I turn on my camera).  He runs in strong and leaps across the finish line with his fist pumped in the air. I hobble quickly to the finishing chute to hug him.  What a moment!  He qualified for Boston with a new PR of 3:14:41. And I was lucky enough to witness it. Amazing!

In fact, I witnessed my friend Patti also qualify.  And then Tracy and Kinnie qualified too.  But in the midst of the obvious success stories, there were the less obvious ones.  Sometimes things happen you can't control or predict and you have to adjust and just make the most of it.  If you have to walk it in to the finish "wounded," there's no shame in that.  Kudos to everyone who can endure these distances.  Whether it was your first half or full, you ran a PR, you qualified for Boston, or just had the courage to finish despite things not going your way, you have your story.  You have a new personal experience to carry with you forever.