Rogue Run Half Marathon

There's still a chill in the air when I get off the bus in Talent. I'm snuggled up in Matt's jacket and warmup pants, which are many sizes too big for me. Even though he's not here racing with me, sitting here in his clothes, it almost feels like he is.

Stylish, I know.

After too much waiting, numerous bathroom stops, I make my way to the line. This year, the Rogue Run celebrates its fifth year. It's not until I hear that announcement that I realize this is my fourth. If only I had known about it the inaugural year I could have done them all!

I know my starting pace is too quick and even though it feels easy, I resist the urge to let my legs fly. Every time I look down at my watch during the first three miles, it's too fast.

Mile 1: 7:22
Mile 2: 7:30
Mile 3: 7:24

When setting my goal pace last night, Matt and I talked about how each five second increment feels. Seven and a half minute pace feels comfortable and I can even talk a little; 7:25 means less words; and 7:20 suddenly requires a lot more effort and no talking. That means that somewhere in there is my lactate threshold pace, the pace one can hold for sixty minutes, and probably somewhere around 7:23. It's imperative that I do not spend much time in that zone or I'm sure to burn out before the finish line.

Near mile four, I settle into my comfortable cruising pace and everything is great.  The only problem is the man behind me. He's using me to set the pace, hanging out just off my right shoulder. I don't mind people drafting off of me, but this man is far too close and his breathing is obnoxiously loud.

I. must. get. away. NOW.

I pull up ahead just to try and drop him, and thankfully it works. I now find myself next to an older man in an orange shirt. He has the weathered look of a long-time distance runner. This guy knows what he's doing, I tell myself, we need to stay with him today, talking as if my body and brain are now two separate entities.

Mile 4: 7:25
Mile 5: 7:25

We reach the biggest hill on the course, the one over Barnett Street. As I begin the long and slow climb, I hear a motorcycle pull up behind me. Lead marathoner, Craig Leon, zooms past me so lightning quick and smooth that I feel like a loping oaf beside him. A stitch in my right hip flexor begins to whine. I tell it to shut up. Thankfully, it stays at a dull roar for the remainder of the race.

Mile 6: 7:27

About midway, the combination of fatigue and a rapidly warming day begins to wear on me. When I arrive at the next aid station, I grab a cup of water as I keep moving. Once I realize how small the cups are, I reach out to grab another just before the table ends. The man in the orange shirt, now behind me, slams into me, spilling his cup of Gatorade down my back. He's quick to apologize, but honestly, it felt good, so I tell him he can dump water on me at the next one too. No big deal. He laughs a little and then pulls off ahead of me.

Mile 7: 7:38

Mile 8, taken July 2015.

Now back on familiar running ground, I begin to recognize the landmarks. I've run many training miles on this stretch of bike path. I know where I'm going, where the smallest of inclines are, and where the next patch of shade is. I've got this. The only problem is, I know I'm fading. I keep orange shirt man in my sights, but when I look down at my mile splits, I know he's not the person I need him to be today. He's slowing down too much. I need to get ahead of him.
 

July 2015

Mile 8: 7:38
Mile 9: 7:35

Every year I've run this, I dread a turn near the mile 10 aid station. The course twists in a full circle as the path rises. Given the water stop is right there too, it always kills any momentum I've got. It wasn't until my shakeout run on Friday that I realized that my dreaded mile 10 hill is laughably small.

Mile 10: 7:37

I'm downing my second water when I notice Matt waiting with the camera. He's been sick in bed with a 103 fever all week, so he's in no condition to race, but his presence at this spot is just the revival I need. I charge up the hill, around the loop, and by the time I get settled and look at my watch again, my pace is a 7:05. Having a spectator just for me is kinda cool!

I try to calculate a finish time in my head, but am alarmed to realize I have to run a 23 minute 5K to tie my PR. This is no good! I might not make it!

Mile 11: 7:37

Running along, now in full sunshine, goosebumps are popping up on my skin and I know I'm riding the line between being warm and too warm. It's funny that when I'm racing hard and not overheating, my head is filled with mental tricks to keep going. When it's a little too hot (70+) all that goes on in my head is durrrrrrrrrrr. I know I'm headed for the latter.

Luckily, just as I'm about to lose any semblance of race pace, another runner passes me. I recognize him as the man who was running with the very loud breather many miles ago. He looks strong, so I try to keep up with him. He leads me through a cluster of three runners, including one girl. As I pass her, she looks over me and asks, "Marathon?". HA! I tell her that I'm running the half and then try my best to pull away as effortlessly as possible.

Mile 12: 7:38

At the final aid station, I grab two cups of water: one to drink, and one to pour down my back. The icy water gives me a chill but I feel like a new person! Up ahead, I can see the man in the gray shirt. I catch up to him and he asks if I'm running a 7:30 pace. I reply, "Sort of." Since the mile markers were so horribly off last year, I left the auto-pause going on my Garmin and they're not quite in the right place again today, so my pace is anyone's guess. I realize here that I probably have ten minutes left to finish, an 8:00/mi pace, to tie my PR.

I know the finish line is close so I push the effort into the red zone and hope I can hang onto it for the final half mile. I'm passing clusters of 10K walkers and enjoy how motivating it is to pass them, even though they're not difficult targets to reach.

Mile 13: 7:26

There's one last hill just before the thirteenth mile marker and then two turns. I launch into the best kick I can possibly muster.

Mile 13-finish: 0:47 (7:10/mi.)

The finish line comes into view and I see the clock tick into the 1 hour 38 minute range. As I make the final turn into the parking area, a woman pulls up alongside me. Nooo! You may not pass me! I'm completely gassed but I push as hard as I can without passing out and keep up with her.

Stride for stride, we sprint to the finish line arch and cross the line together. I'm exhausted and double over to catch my breath. Did I get her? (Later learned we tied.)

1:38:26
7:31/mi.
Female: 9/252
Female 30-34: 3/33

I drink an entire bottle of water in two huge gulps and then head over to find Matt. Even though he watched me finish, I proudly hold up my watch to show him my time. A PR!!!  Before heading out of the finish area, I grab a printout of my time and ranking. After three years of finishing just out of the age group prizes, I placed third in mine! As it turns out, the girl I passed with one mile to go was my age. Whew! :)

We watched my club friend, Tami, cruise along to second place in the marathon. She hasn't run a marathon in a decade so she was pleasantly surprised to come home with $500 in cash! We ran the same pace but she went twice as far as I did!

After a quick trip back to the hotel to grab a shower and Zoey, it was time to celebrate... with a Blizzard! What else? :)