Training Day: Lessons Learned

Everything about my training has changed this year. Along with Kat, my new coach, has come a new outlook on everything I'm doing. From the food that goes in my body to the training sessions I'm stomping out daily, everything is new. And good. I'm fitter, lighter, faster, stronger, and more ready to take my racing to a new level than ever before. 

Headed into the 2014 season, Kat and I decided to stage a race simulation around the Wallis Sands Half Marathon in Rye, NH. Stepping up to a new distance this year is sure to come with a number of challenges so why not iron out a few of the wrinkles in a manufactured race scenario. In the days leading up to the race I went through the same process I will later in the season. I ate the same foods, completed the same training sessions, woke up at the same time, and warmed up in the same fashion as I will in every other race this season. Then, about 2:15 before the half marathon was to start, when the sun first peaked above the horizon, I set out on my bike. Cold and wet, I rolled out of South Berwick and made my way along the seacoast of New Hampshire. While daylight (or lack of) kept me from riding a full 56 miles prior to the start of the race, I was able to get in 42 lonely miles. At the finish of the ride was my own personal transition that Eileen had set up in the Wallis Sands parking lot. A quick change of clothes in the back of the SUV (while this was a simulation for a triathlon, I absolutely was NOT going to be that guy running a road race in his tri suit) and I was off to the start line. 

There was a very structured plan in place for the run, one that I was certain I could execute well. Essentially, I was set up to run just under 1:24 off the bike. It would have been an excellent time and one that I am fully capable of throwing down. But, sometimes a plan on paper doesn't get executed on the road...

Second from the left at the race start

Thirty meters into the race I found myself in an unfamiliar position. The lead. Now, leading a triathlon is nothing new, but a road race - especially one at this distance, is a position I never thought I'd experience. As I floated over the pavement through the first mile, I found myself on the front of a small pack of four. My watch alerted me to a 6:18 first mile. Oops. That wasn't part of the plan, but I felt amazing. The pack quickly broke up after that point, though, as one racer gained a gap of about 200 meters. I remained on the front of the chase pack and put in miles of 6:28, 6:18, and 6:28 to close out the first four miles about a minute faster than planned. Knowing I was potentially digging myself into a hole that I wouldn't later be able to climb out of, I did my best to settle in and begin to run my own race. Sort of. My mind was in the right place, but I made the mistake of racing with my heart instead. Rather than really run according the plan set forth in the days before the race, I took it upon myself to try to balance a potential win (or at the very least a spot on the podium) with what I knew was the right thing to do. 

Sort of looking the part of an actual runner on the front!

Through 8 miles I was still running too fast. But I felt fine. One rough patch at the six mile mark aside, I felt like I was setting myself up for an excellent finish. And then, when the plan called for the pace to drop under 6:15 at mile 9, I had nothing to give. Okay, I thought, you banked some time early in the race so just let your legs recover in the 6:30s for a mile and see what happens. At mile 10 I tried to drop the pace again. No response. In fact, I started to mimic a lawnmower when it's about to run out of gas. I was sputtering badly. My pace, the same one that had been rock solid in the early goings, was now fluctuating. It would drop from 6:20 to 7:00 without notice and then bounce back into the low 6:00 range. I knew what was coming next, but I tried to delay the inevitable by limiting my losses and keeping the pace in the 6:30s rather than shooting for the fast finish/progression type conclusion to the race that was mapped out. By mile 11 I was lonely, cold, and beaten. I was desperate for the race to end before I imploded. I knew I'd made mistakes earlier in the race and I was starting to pay for them with every step. The pace slumped to just below 7:00 per mile. That was embarrassing. Fortunately, I was the only one around to know exactly - to the second - how pathetically slowly I was covering ground. Or so I thought. I was passed three times before I even knew what was happening. As the figures moved into the distance, I watched and wondered what was happening. The guys ahead were not moving quickly. They were headed to decent finishes, but they were not running a pace faster than I could run at any point of any training run. So I glanced at my Garmin. Had there been enough energy left in my body to produce a string of profane statements, I would have made them. Loudly. But it wasn't worth the effort. The pace had dropped to one that I haven't seen in YEARS. Even when recovering between reps on the track I run faster than the output I was producing in the final mile of this race. Disappointed, upset, embarrassed, and disheartened, i trudged along toward the finish. I crossed the line with my tail between my legs in a finishing time of 1:27:54 (or something in that ballpark - I really didn't care to look). The only thing I was happy about was that I was finished moving that my legs could still support my body weight, though that was a close call for a minute or two.

I've been reminded both by coach Kat and wife Eileen that this day served a purpose. Actually, it likely will do me more good in the long run than a flaw-free race. I learned a few much-needed valuable lessons on course and they will certainly help me find success later in the season. First among those lessons is this: Always listen to your coach. Don't improvise, don't let your ego or heart get the best of you and stick to the plan. The plan is in place for a reason; execute it, don't revise it on the fly. Trust yourself, trust your coach, and trust your training and things will fall into place nicely. Force the issue and there's little you can do to right the ship when it inevitably starts to sink.

The lessons now engrained and the miles behind me, I'm moving forward toward more important goals. I'm excited for what's to come and positive that as we move forward success will reveal itself.