Launch: Indianapolis Monumental Marathon

The 8 am race start time was chilly and dry with a 40 degree feels-like temperature. My heart rate was very low, despite the big goals I was setting out to accomplish. This was the race that would qualify me for the Marathon Maniacs Club, coming in at the Bronze Level for having completed 3 marathons in under 90 days (62 days to be precise).

My time goal was a little undetermined. My course PR at the Indy Monumental wouldn't be hard to best, as long as something didn't go sideways. The prior time I ran here was when I'd attempted sub-4 in only my second marathon, coming in with just seconds to spare. That day was an unlikely day for PRs -- blustery, rainy, and with uncertain conditions -- not like this day. This day would be peak performance for many, at least many who have been keeping their speed tools sharp and/or not doing a multi-race series. The feelings of uncertainty I had came from the back-to-back racing and pulling back on training so as not to overdue it. But where is my body right now? My speed had been coming harder lately, barely able to make it to half-marathon pace for speed runs and realizing only a day ago that my iron supplementation was lacking, causing cramping and circulation issues. When my speed tools are sharp, I knew I wanted to try for 3:26 to get guaranteed registration for the NY Marathon. The next big goal on my list was sub-3:30. I wasn't sure if my body would comply; I'd never set a half-marathon pace below 8 minute pace, let alone a marathon. Seemed dicey, but being still frustrated that I left so much on the table back in September for my Boston Qualifying race to later get cut by 10 seconds (3:33:19 on a 3:40 qualifying goal with the registration cut coming to anyone above 3:33:09), I didn't want to feel like I was sandbagging. Pacing is important, but maybe I hadn't let my racing spirit run the show yet. I wondered. What could I do if I let my body drive? We were about to find out.

I had worried a bit about reactions on the course wearing my 'Your Pace or Mine' IRunforLove.com bib on my back. How would people react to me? On this day, at this pace, people either didn't notice or they simply didn't have breath to say anything to me during the race. No one is chatty trying to run a sub-3:30 I decided. I had taken a bunch of stickers along with me and pinned them to my belt, but when the opportunity presented itself later, I blanked and forget to use it. 'Marathon brain' I thought to myself.

The pace started out a little hot for the first 4 miles, faster than my pie-in-the-sky goal. 'Uh oh' I thought. 'I hope I'm not in trouble.' Over and over again, I pulled in fast time after fast time, wondering how I was going to hold on to this pace. The night before I had been scrolling through the various features of my Garmin and looked at the Race Predictor screen, wondering if that would be helpful. Then, as the hordes of runners approached the start line and pressed RUN the Race Predictor screen was the setting selected on my watch from the night before. Not wanting to stop and start off-mat, I let it roll to see if I liked it. Apparently it was a day for experimentation. The Race Predictor gives you total miles left to go, an average pace overall (instead of per mile in real time), and then, as you would assume, a total time projected if you keep pace. Rather than doing mental math, this feature allows you to see exactly how close you are to your goal time, which is fantastic. It was a bit of a challenge to adjust to not seeing my real-time pace, but perhaps that served me well overall. Due to the speed feeling a bit challenging, I avoided looking at my watch as much as I could. I'd given some younger runners advice and a pep talk earlier in the week and repeated those words to myself. 'It doesn't matter what mile you're in. Just keep running. You will KNOW when to stop.'

This was only my second race wearing super shoes, and by the second hour of racing, I was over them. They make my feet hurt so badly that I swear I lose any time that I make up from the carbon fiber plating. Perhaps my Vaporfly shoes will make good 5k shoes, but I vowed never to wear them for the 26.2 distance again. Ever. The Indy Monumental course is really interesting from above, where parts are drawn to mimic the monument they use for the race logo. As you can see, there are a lot of twists and turns, and that can keep things interesting on course, but it also means slowing down to turn a lot -- the Vaporfly isn't great at turning either, or at least I haven't learned how to use them well enough to turn well. Mostly flat, there are inclines aplenty in the second half of the race, and one area (starting around mile 19 and continuing for ~2 miles if memory serves) has horrible cracking asphalt that made for challenging foot placement. This was my least favorite part of the course, and it was also an area with few spectators and low energy.

It felt like I ran the last 5k 3 times, I swear. The brain's job is self preservation, and my brain was working hard to convince me to slow down:

'stop'

'walk'

'you don't need this PR'

'you can have a COURSE PR without really even trying'

'you have lots of races coming up -- you can PR then'

'you started out too fast'

'you'll never keep up this speed for the whole race'

'what a rookie mistake'

'just stop; you're not even halfway done!'

'you have so much left to go, you should slow down'

'slow down'

'SLOW DOWN!' -- negativity courtesy of the running brain.

When the negativity gets intense, I try to offset it with gratitude, practicing mantras like:

'smooth is fast'

'just keep going'

'don't stop'

'you are strong'

'your body was made to do this'

'run the mile you're in'

As my body fatigued my feet screamed at me to wear different shoes for racing, I imagined the mile markers must have been moved further apart. I kept hoping the finish line would suddenly come into view. I then approached a runner being hoisted onto a stretcher and practiced gratitude again for my health and my dedication to training. I thought about my family and how scary it would be to get a call if something happened during a race. They're so far away. I leaned in and changed my stride just a bit, hoping this update made the pace feel easier. Even though I had escaped the hordes of sub-3:30 pretty early on, they caught up to me in the last couple of miles when I was in a bit of a struggle. They overtook me, and I tried to hold on. The final mile, I kept thinking about my best friend cheering for me in previous races. My playlist starting playing 99 Luftballons, the song I added for her, and although I've never wanted to slow down more in my life as I did in that moment, I thought of her faith in me. 'You're SO STRONG' she kept repeating to me at September's race. I channeled the remaining positivity I had and said to myself 'If you slow down now and miss sub-3:30 because it's more comfortable, all the suffering in the first 25 miles means nothing. You just have to KEEP GOING. You're ALMOST THERE.'

'I am SO STRONG.' I repeated to myself. SO STRONG. I sped up. This was happening.

A couple of agonizing turns and a few minutes later, disoriented and so very grateful to be done, I crossed the finish line. With just over a minute to spare, I'd secured a 4 minute and 30 second PR and my second Boston Qualifying race since September. I did it!

Afterwards, another runner approached and said he'd been behind me most of the way and congratulated me for the finish, but scurried off quickly. I wondered if my exhaustion betrayed me, if perhaps it seemed like I wasn't interested in talking, or if he'd had the same race ending I did and just needed rest. My hope was that my IRunforLove bib was clear enough that he visits the site and requests to Connect with me. I regretted later not doing a better job of chatting him up, but I was toast. I should have given him a sticker to visit the site, but I just wasn't thinking clearly in that moment; I assume the project was at least in part the reason for his approach. After a tough race, I was still figuring out how to walk again. But if you're reading this, mister, I'm into it. I just had a tough last few miles. Reach out!

And that's it. Sore, ready for recovery, and absolutely certain that the upcoming Dallas Ultra (50k) will be a MUCH slower pace.

Let's GO!

XOXO,

T