In fact, this thinking started the night before the last half in Kiawah SC (post for that race is here) when my friend and hostess Robin asked me straight up "So... what did you get out of it?"
What did I get out of it?
Other than a shit-load of medals
When the idea for this quest came to me, I'd just run my first semi-serious 5k in ages.
Before that race, I'd barely been able to run a mile. For me, as a formerly pretty fast dude, and still a guy who identifies as being a "runner", that was pretty humiliating.
So, I set a goal (the 5K), set a training schedule, and knocked it out. And if felt fantastic.
I wanted to keep things rollin', so I needed another goal... that's when I came up with a half a month, with a stretch goal of running them all in under 2 hours.
In my head, it was challenging, a little scary even, but also a sure-fire way to go from semi-fit to rockin' fit. I've always loved the half-marathon distance, there are loads of them, I could travel a bit, and I'd end the year with a ton of hardware, feeling awesome, and maybe some abs.
And that was pretty much how it went down... for a while.
I kept to my 3 runs a week, ramped up my long runs, stretched a lot. The January half went well (even though I missed my time goal, but only because I started behind a jillion people... I was cruising really well after the first 4 miles). February was faster, and March even faster.
Gasparilla: One of my fav pix from the year
even though it looks like a palm tree
is growing out of my head.
April's half was on my home course with perfect conditions, and looking back, my best race... I still wasn't as fast as I wanted to be, but I felt strong, confident, and like I could race the race a little. After that one, I felt as though I'd really accomplished something.
And then... I got complacent. Two-hour halfs were coming easy. Too easy. I wasn't scared of failing any more.
Then, I got lazy. My training got inconsistent. My races got worse. For the May race I showed up unprepared, June was a disaster because I hadn't run a step in the heat, July was a slow slog.
I justified my poor training with "Hey, I'm running a half a month! I can't train consistently. Race a half... a week to recover... a week to get back in the groove... week to train... week of taper... race again."
But that was kinda bullshit. I wasn't racing those halfs. They were long training runs. There was absolutely no reason to not train between races.
The truth is, I'd lost sight of the real goal... to feel good, fit, and fast again. The 12 halfs were supposed to be my path to that. That was the real goal.
August, a trail half, was challenging in new ways, and it scared me enough to train for it, but that was the last one, really... September I had heat as an excuse again... October I ran ok.
We even got to hang with Purdue Pete at October's half.
November was supposed to be my "A" race, the one I'd targeted for my best performance. It was a bit of a fluke, but I did run pretty well... no idea why... perfect conditions helped I'm sure, and the autumn boost after summer heat and humidity. It certainly wasn't from quality training.
And December was a slog... not only because of the stomach distress, but also because I'd barely run a step in a month, hadn't stretched either, and by now had picked back up the weight I'd dropped earlier in the year.
Every half after April was an accomplishment, and I'd celebrate each one, even the shitty ones, but they rang hollow.
Even in those last 2 miles of number twelve, hoping to distract my mind from my roiling gut, I tried to find some emotion, some sense of completion, of accomplishment.
It wasn't there...
I knew that I'd taken a short cut. I'd met the letter of the goal, but not the intent.
In hindsight, after the April race, while I was sitting in Brockway Pub with Jen, feeling that real sense of accomplishment, I should have reset my goal right there... challenged my self to do more, to chart a revised path that would get me to where I truly wanted to be.
Here's why that didn't happen...
When running a half, I divided into 4 parts... the first 4 miles are where I sort myself out, try to get comfortable, and hopefully get past the "What the hell am I doing this for?" freak out. The next part is getting to 8 miles... that's well past half way, "downhill" to the finish, but those miles can be a slog to get through.... I need to keep my wits about me, not do anything stupid. The next part is getting to mile 10... and after 10, it's just a 5 K to go... if things are ok at 10, I know I'll be fine, and I can open things up a bit if I want.
I approached the year of halfs just like a half... and in April, I felt like I had no business starting my kick... I still had a long way to go.
Kinda makes sense... but it's totally wrong.
Races are about planning, conserving, pressing when you can, saving just enough at the beginning so you can finish strong.
A racing season is about cycles... pushing for a while... peaking.. recovering... and repeating those cycles every 3-6 months.
The same fear I feel (and I think most of us feel) in a race when I'm reluctant to go fast, worried I'll end up bonking, had bled into my race cycle thinking. I was too afraid to raise the bar... too worried I'd bonk. I thought I needed to cruise until I got to 10.
But without raising the bar, knowing I could knock out a 2 hour half with no training, there was no challenge. It almost became a game... let's see how little training I can get away with and still finish a half.
So... I find myself with 12 kick-ass medals, 11 shirts (still can't find the Zionsville one), a few dozen horrible race photos.
And some fun memories, like...
that dude who told us "200 meters to go" a good third of a mile from the finish at Sam Costa, and
finishing 3 minutes faster than I'd expected at Carmel, and
finally getting to cross the bridges over the reservoir at Geist, and
my buddy Jay giving me water when I was wilting and Jen taking care of me at Zionsville, and
the knee deep water crossing and seeing Jen next to the (empty!?!) finishers beer keg at the Viking, and
the overheated guy doing the drunk man walk before mile 8 at Mill Run Half in Columbus, and
riding the shoulder of the 2-hour pacer for a few hundred yards, and then accelerating away at Monumental, and
All of those memories are awesome, and that's not lost on me.
And neither is how fortunate I am to be able to run at all, to finish even one half-marathon, let alone twelve.
But I also find myself far short of the fitness, and far above the weight, and not anywhere near the level of "feeling good" that I'd thought those races would steer me to. Not their fault, all mine.
Not sure what my goal will be for next year. I'll still run, maybe target a race a month. And those races won't be, in and of themselves, the goal. (And they sure as fuck won't all be half-marathons.)
Somehow I need to quantify and measure "feeling good"... I guessing there is yoga involved... and free weights. I'm open to suggestions.
Thank you for following this quest and for your comments and good wishes. My readers are the best (and scientifically proven to be good looking with high IQs).
Until next year...
Good running,
Doug
Ratings of the 12 halfs:
Best course: Gasparilla - gorgeous view of the bay for most of the way.
Worst course: Tie:
Zionsville - the 2-loop half could be a nice one-loop 10K
Sam Costa - 1000 tight turns, paths with low hanging limbs, curb jumping... uhg
Best medal: Star Wars - looks just like the one's Luke and Han get in New Hope
Best shirt: Kiawah - technical hoodie? Yup!
Best overall: Gasparilla - it's at the top of the list of ones I'd do again, and not just for the warm weather - well run, great course, great venue.
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