PTF 3k Race Report - Out of the gate with a whimper

Having a bad race sucks. Beyond just the actual end result of not getting the time/place that you wanted, bad races are physically and mentally harder than good races. Putting out a race effort when your body is not up for it is about the hardest thing that we runners do.

So I'll say it again.

Bad races suck.

I had a bad race last night at the Portland Track Festival Masters 3k, and true to form, it sucked.

The masters womens 3k was run at the same time as the "open" 3k (open in this case meaning high school girls). The start list had been released prior to the meet, and they included seed times. There were to be 8 ladies total in the race, 4 open and 4 masters. The four high schoolers and one of the masters ladies had seed times in the 10:10-10:20 range. Mine was 10:52, and then there was an 11:00 (Jen Seibel), and another a little slower than that. The woman with the last seed time was a DNS.

In other words, there was going to be a race up front, then a gap, then the last couple of us well behind. 

Also, knowing that these were high school girls, my assumption was that they would go out fast. 

Off the line, they did just that. I was well in last place by 50 meters in. I took a split at 100m just to make sure I wasn't crazy, and it was about 18 seconds, or 72 second quarter pace. A 10:00 3k is 80 second quarter pace, just for reference. I backed off another notch and settled in to wait.

But let me back up just a second. I have very little experience at this distance, so I actually wrote out splits on a piece of paper for four different lap times, 84-87. I wasn't expecting to memorize any of them, I just wanted to have a range in my mind of where I might be. I'd also been thinking about strategy in a more general way, trying to figure out how best to run this distance, how to break it up in my mind, pacing, all that stuff. I decided that laps 5 and 6 were the key. It seems like the best thing to do is get through the first mile at just the slow end of goal pace, dig in and press for laps 5 and 6, and then hang on for all you've got for the last 600 meters. 

Knowing that I wasn't in the best racing form yet, I was really only looking to run an 86-87 pace, but I was hoping to finish strong off that pace. Or at least not die off that pace.

My lap splits did not all stick in my memory, but the first was a little fast, the second a little slow, and the 3rd about 86. At 1200 meters in, my total time was in a good place, but I was not. The pace did not feel sustainable and I was "concerned". (That's the nice way to put it.)

I went from last to second-to-last when I passed Jen about 600 meters into the race, but she was only behind me a couple of seconds. I know she's a good runner, so I wasn't expecting her to just drop off the back. The big gap to the front group had materialized, as expected, so it was just the two of us bringing up the rear. It had occurred to me that if some of those girls in the front group had gotten in over their heads with the fast start, they might come back to us later in the race and give us something to chase down, but I could already tell I wasn't having the kind of day to make that a possibility. 

The 4th lap dropped to 89. As we crossed the mile, Rick (TRL/Jen's coach) yelled out, "ok, now's when the race starts". He was right about that. Unfortunately, at that point I was sapped. I was tired, I felt flat, no spring in my legs, no joy in the running, no nothing. But there I was, running in this stupid race anyway! And it's really hard to justify dropping out of a 3k, so I pretty much had no choice but to soldier on the best I could. 

I pictured getting passed and falling even further behind. Negative brain was definitely winning at that point. But when you tell negative brain that whatever happens you're still finishing the stupid race, he pipes down for a while. 

Either lap 5 or lap 6 was a 91 (!!! Really?! what the fuck, Andi??). Jen had moved up close behind me during lap 5, but was apparently not interested in passing. I guess I neglected to mention that there was a pretty good headwind on the back stretch. Also I'm taller and wider than she is, so I imagine I made a pretty good wind break. In fact, she was so close to me that she clipped my heels 3 or 4 times in laps 5 and 6. She apologized each time, and I know she meant no harm, but I was pretty irritated. I was struggling mightily, having a painful off day, fighting the good fight, all while also doing the work for a freeloader behind me, so I felt like the least she could do is not fucking touch my feet while I'm trying to run with them! (It's possible I was also a little grumpy.) In the 6th lap, I briefly considered slowing down a bit to force her to lead and then outkicking her at the end, but that's not really how I roll. This was not some big championship race where finishing place was everything. I needed to see where I was fitness-wise and get more of a feel for the race distance, and to me that meant grinding it out as fast as I could until the bitter end. 

With 600 to go, Rick told Jen to pass me. I believe he said, "she's dying, go around her" or something to that effect. As a small aside, I find that kind of during-race coaching to be kind of funny. First of all, let me say that it's accurate that I was dying. I was sucking big time. So I certainly don't fault him for saying that. But at the same time, he knows I'm also right there, right? I can hear him just as clearly as she can. So does she really need him to tell her to pass me? And is it the best idea to announce that move to me before it happens? I don't know, I just find stuff like that amusing. He's a great coach, by the way. And it's something that a lot of coaches do. And maybe it works well for a lot of people. What do I know?

Anyway. 

She clipped my feet again as we rounded the turn into 500 meters to go. But now I could almost feel the end of the race. She was probably not feeling that terrific either, but feeling like she should make a move. As we hit the bell lap, I felt her start to move up on my shoulder. I let her run out there around the turn, increasing my pace just a teeny tiny bit to keep her out there, and she followed that up with sidling up next to me on the backstretch. Another tiny pace increase held her out there in lane 2, and then, finally, we only had 200 meters to go, and my brain woke up. I'm not going to claim I put on some beautiful, awe-inspiring kick, when it was really just increasing from a terribly slow race pace to the pace I probably should have been running the whole race, but I think I put 2 or 3 seconds on her in the last 200 meters. 

My finish time was 11:0-something, and I was spent. It was a good 20 seconds slower than I'd been aiming for, and it had been a struggle most of the way. Not a good day at the office. But in my brain I was able to walk a little taller for not giving up. I probably should have found Jen and made sure she understood that I had no hard feelings for her drafting off me and clipping my feet, (the former is just the smart thing to do, and the latter was not intentional), but I was hot and tired and yes, a little grumpy, and I needed to get a jog in and be across town for a show in 30 minutes.

So what happened exactly? Why the crappy result?

That's what we always wonder after a bad race, right? If you can resist beating yourself up too much about it, figuring out what might have gone wrong is very useful. A lot of it is conjecture, of course, but it's a good chance to get positive things out of a negative experience. 

In my case, it could have been any or all of a number of things: 

• I'm only a few weeks into my season, and the reality is that I'm just not very fit yet. 
• I've had some digestive issues the last couple of weeks which culminated in gut pain throughout my race warmup. 
• It was too warm for me. Low 70s is probably considered to be "not too bad" for a lot of runners, but I am someone who typically doesn't even race in the summer because the heat is so awful for me and who would choose 45 degrees as the perfect race temperature. 
• Low iron. I hope this isn't a contributing factor, because I am ridiculously tired of it being an issue, but that is my lifelong weight to bear. Last time I was checked (~6 weeks ago), my ferritin had dropped to 37. I expect it may have dropped further since, but we'll see.

In the immediate aftermath of this race, I found myself wondering if maybe the 3k is just not a good race distance for me. I haven't run it much, but each time has been a significant under-performance. I wondered if I should skip the upcoming exhibition 3k at USATF Nationals. 

I don't know. I'm usually pretty good at sticking with things long enough to learn how to do them. I'll keep following my plan, get my iron checked, and take it from there.

Oh, and one other thing..
Playing a super fun show is probably the best antidote ever to post-race malaise. Seriously. So cathartic.