Race Report: Phoenix Half Marathon
The Phoenix Half Marathon is the shortest A race on my schedule this year, so the length of this report will be managed accordingly [I hope]. I saw this quote at the Rodney Strong Vineyards during Winter Wineland in January - their theme was the Wizard of Oz - and it’s stuck with me ever since. I thought about it a lot in regards to this event.
That’s probably because conquering this distance had become a huge mental roadblock for me. I’ve clocked several 1:32 half marathons ever since hitting that milestone in the fall of 2013, despite tough training blocks and races scheduled as part of a design to descend below 1:30. It became frustrating and self-doubt has been a big battle. Not only is your conscious telling you it hurts and you’re tired and you can’t go any faster, but your subconscious is as well for self-preservation. It’s very hard to shut down both of those and just turn off your brain.
When I registered for this race, it was because Michael had also done so and had encouraged me to follow suit since it was a good opportunity to PR. I was hesitant and initially declined, however I came around and put it on the schedule as an A- race to Oceanside 70.3; and for quite a while, it appeared that I would forgo targeting a PR or sub-1:30 performance for the sake of Oceanside preparedness.
Fast forward to January, and I was starting to feel really good while running, a feeling I thought I may never experience again. After cycling consistently throughout the winter and logging a very solid bike kickoff week, I found myself a bit ahead of schedule for Oceanside. This is about when coach shifted things on my schedule a bit to test my run fitness beyond what I’d been doing for Oceanside prep, and upon seeing some initial results, decided it was time for a new PR.
I was still doubtful about how I would feel on race day and if I could break the mental barrier. Serendipitously, during race week, coach published a very timely and compelling Most Pleasant Exhaustion podcast that analyzed fatigue during events. My takeaways were a) that it really is all mental b) you need a rabbit to focus on and c) remember that the ¾ segment of the race is mentally the toughest, so be prepared to shut off your brain - and focus on the rabbit(!) - and stay tough in the middle.
On race day, I lined up with the 1:30 pacer, my rabbit. He was cutting up with two other guys and a disabled gentlemen, Patrick. These two guys would be pushing Patrick through the race, aiming towards a 1:30 finish as well, and the pacer knew Patrick, as he also had experience pushing him. Patrick was wearing a Spartan-looking helmet; the pacer said Patrick also has a headband that reads “run, bitch, run” that he also likes to wear, but since he wasn’t wearing it on this day, he may just shout the motto instead. Typically, I would give serious side eye to something like this, but it was pretty endearing coming from Patrick, and I would find myself repeating the motto to myself during the tough parts of the race when I could feel my cadence slowing.
My main concern with the start was the lack of start corrals. There were A LOT of people near the start line that I was pretty sure we’d end up dodging the first half mile, which was precisely the case. The first few miles felt easy even though I had an inkling that we’d gone out a tad fast.
It was really inspiring running alongside the guys pushing Patrick and feeling like I was part of that dialogue - it was a welcome distraction from my own race. I also noticed about 1/3 of the way through the race, it felt like we were really pushing the pace. Other people in our pace group started audibly grumbling about the aggressive pacing, as we were averaging in the very low 6:40s. I kept quiet and just focused on my rabbit - I couldn’t afford to abate and lose him, as I assessed that the bigger risk for me would be to lose the rabbit and have to mentally tackle the race alone. While I had doubted myself, George and Michael both suggested that I could run 1:28, and that thought reassured me when I wondered if I’d unravel by sticking with the rabbit.
By the halfway point, we’d lost pretty much the entire pace group. There were two guys that kept coming in and out of the picture, but it was really just me and the pacer. Things got tough around mile ten, and I think he knew he’d have to pull me through the last couple of miles with encouraging words. He did demand some crowd support as I was trying to focus on keeping my cadence and speed up along miles 11 and 12. The final mile felt downhill, and I knew I’d have a happy result, so I started to push again, and was glad to cross the finish line with the pacer albeit a bit ahead of schedule.
I thought the days were over for [me having] really cool race experiences like this, but the stars aligned and I benefitted from forces way beyond myself. Even if I can’t repeat the success, I’m really excited to see what comes with the impending triathlon season.
