Woke up at 5:15am. Weird how it's easier to wake up at 5:15 for a race than 6:30am for work. Emphasis on "easier" and not by any means "easy". I was carpooling with my friend Kelly since we'd heard Carlsbad was notorious for being a madhouse exiting after the race, so we decided to get there early and park a good distance away. Ended up taking the exit just south of the race, which was pretty much at the top of a hill from the start. Easy walk down to the race, not so fun walking up it after.
Got down near the start around 6:45am. I have never seen that many port-o-potties. Good work Carlsbad in finally acknowledging the #1 activity people do before races. Took care of that business, and got myself up to my area for wave 1. I had told them I was hoping to go under 1:40, so I was corralled into the first group of runners. Got my stretch and warm-up on, listened to the National Anthem, then got ready to race.
The gun sounded and we were off. I ended up crossing the actual start line about 11 seconds after the clock started (this time will become important at the finish). I foolishly don't wear a garmin or any sort of GPS, so I pretty much have to pace myself off my trusty old stopwatch on my wristwatch and the mile markings on the course.
Got through Mile 1 at 6:59, which was faster than I had planned. I was hoping for right around 7:30/mi., so I backed off knowing that if I kept running that pace I'd have nothing left near the end. Worked to keep my pace between 7:30-7:45/mi and did a pretty good job until the turnaround. The combination of caffeinated gels, water and the yelling crowd made me not really think about the building lactic acid in my legs.
Once I hit the turnaround, I wouldn't say things started to get ugly but they definitely started taking a turn for the worse. the hips started to get sore, and my leg turnover was not what it was. Luckily, being the stubborn person I am, I was able to deal with the discomfort and get into a rhythm that should get me to the finish at a time I was happy with.
I don't know if it was improper training or missing on any nutrition, but from mile 10 and on was one of the most painful runs I've ever done. There wasn't a specific area that was in pain, it just felt like both legs were running on fumes. I took a gel to try and get some calories, took a salt tab to make sure I had enough sodium and drank some water to try and make sure my body got what it needed, but the legs still felt like someone was working on their baseball swing against my quads and hips.
I made my way back through the neighborhood between the mall where we started and the 101, hoping that the cheering people and the knowledge of where the finish line was would be enough to get me through. As I made one of the final turns, I looked at my watch and saw that I had about a minute and a half to get to the finish to go under 1:40. I had decided I was going to set my personal best regardless, so even if I didn't go under that time I would still be happy.
That didn't last long.
At the last turn, with about 125m. to go I had thirty seconds to get to the finish to go sub 1:40. As I stated earlier, I can be stubborn when I need to and decided that this was one of those times. I grit my teeth, buckled down and ran as hard as I could to the finish.
I looked up as I crossed the finish line and saw the clock hit 1:40:07. Dammit. Had I misjudged how much time I had left? Did I not read my watch correctly? What did I do wrong to achieve my goal? Then it hit me: that was the gun time, not my chip time. I had a buffer of about 11 seconds from the start. I'd have to wait and see if I was correct.
I went over to the expo, stretched my legs out as much as I could and enjoyed some of the free products they had to offer. I saw a couple friends who had finished and we recapped the race, what went well, any problems, what we could improve on. As we went over our races, someone walked by saying the preliminary times were up for people that finished. I told my friends I had to go and made my way over to the results tent.
I started scanning the pages of results, starting high and optimistically working my way down. I got down to right around 1:40:07 and couldn't find my name. Switching almost immediately to a pessimist, I wondered if I'd missed my name as I was making my way down the list. Then, in a brief glimpse, I saw my last name situated among the dozens of other people on that page.
1:39:56.
It's going to be a good year for racing.
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