Running with the Turkey

Back in 2010, while visiting my husband's family for Christmas, I decided to register for a local inaugural 5K, the Turkey Chase in Bluffton, South Carolina. My dear sweet husband HIJACKED my race by deciding to run with me. He TRICKED me into running with him by breathing so heavily I thought he might die of a heart attack only to totally destroy me at the finish line with a Usain Bolt like sprint! (You can read the full recap here.)

The following year, I went back and snagged my 5K PR (that still stands...but I really think the course was a little short). I remember that day well...and with the experience I have now, I KNOW I could have run harder on that day. I didn't understand what it meant to be hyper-focused and I didn't understand what it meant to truly be uncomfortable. Oh how I wish I was in that kind of shape again.

In 2012 we didn't travel to my in-law's for Thanksgiving. In 2013 I was 2 months out from IMLT and 2 months away from having shoulder surgery so I didn't race it. In 2014 I was dealing with a weird "injury/not injury" in my leg as well as working toward a "Grand Slam" finish, so I didn't race it that year either. (Grand Slam is a local challenge where you run 3 50Ks and a marathon within a few months of each other.)  In 2015 I was two month out from IMChoo and, I didn't know it then but, I was starting to have symptoms of what I would be diagnosed with about four months later-Autoimmune Encephalopathy, so I didn't race it that year either. Last year I was very out of shape and Dwayne was in very good shape since he had just finished his own IMChoo so I watched him race it.

When we made the decision to go to my in-law's for Thanksgiving I told Dwayne I wanted to run the race but I wanted him to run with me. He is training for Rocket City (marathon) and he was told my his coach (NOT ME!) to run a VERY easy 6 miles that day. His brother had decided to run the race (as his FIRST 5K in like 25 years!!!). I knew if Dwayne didn't run with me, he and his brother would try to kill each other by racing. My running (which is 100% walk/running) has been very up and down so I knew it was just going to be a "fun run" and I can think of nothing more fun than running with my husband. He (reluctantly) agreed.

The weather is a little iffy that morning, colder than usual and a little rainy. I knew when I woke up I wasn't feeling 100% but I was really looking forward to the race. I love the course, well, the whole town! The race has grown A LOT from just over 100 people that first year to almost 700 registrants this year (655 finishers)! We got there and got signed up and then waited in the car to keep warm. A little bit before the race, naturally, I had to get in the port-o-potty line which was taking FOREVER. I had JUST enough time to take care of pre-race business and get over to the start line before the scheduled start time.

I'm guessing there were some pre-race announcements that we couldn't hear because the race was not actually starting on time but we had no idea why. As we were standing around (near the back since I knew I was going to run slowly), I looked around and was very saddened to see about 75% of the people around me had earbuds in. I won't get up on that soapbox right now, but I will say I wish they were strictly prohibited in races for many reasons and leave it at that.

As we were just about to get annoyed, the race started and we were off to a nice jog while Cedric (Dwayne's brother) quickly pulled ahead. We passed the road the course used to turn right on and Dwayne remarked that they must have changed the course since it's always just a little short. Two blocks later we were met with a VERY LARGE group running back toward us!! My first thought was that a big group had decided to quit the race!! My second thought was an overwhelming irritation that a race director thought it was a good idea to have an out and back in the first 1/2 mile of a 5K with over 600 people on the course!!

And then we found out that somehow we were ALL going the wrong way and that turn we thought we were supposed to make early on was STILL the course!! ((We found out after the race that JUST as the lead vehicle took off a truck pulled in between that vehicle and the runners, completely blocking off the runners so the leaders went straight until they were stopped and turned back around!!! I think it was in that very moment that Dwayne decided it was okay to be running "for fun" with me! Unfortunately, that decision wouldn't remain strong. About a minute later Cedric passed us again. He was MUCH further ahead when the race got turned back around. I know Dwayne really wanted to race him but he stayed back with me like he said he would.

I have been starting every "run" off with a warm up walk, but on this day I just took off at a slow trot thinking I would be perfectly fine. I was for about SIX whole minutes! That's one of the longest run intervals I've had in a long while so I was dismayed when I felt like I needed to walk because my shins were KILLING me. From then until about the last 1/2 mile I battled my stupid shins. I knew they were really fine because when I would walk they would loosen up and not hurt. But I wasn't "able" to run more than about a minute at a time and my walk breaks were sometimes 3 minutes long!! My poor husband was smiling on the outside, but I'm sure he was seriously regretting his decision to run with me on the inside.

I have to say running a race "for fun" when you are hurting isn't fun no matter who you're with. As we got closer to the end of the course I finally started warming and loosening up so I was able to "push" just a little at the very end. My sweet husband held back and let me cross the finish line before him. We came in 525th and 526th out of 655 runners. Because of the mishap at the start though, they didn't have actual awards. Some people, like Cedric (who came in 83rd by the way) ran almost 4 miles for the 5K! Dwayne and I we just slightly over at 3.26 miles.

My goal for next year, that Dwayne has NOT agreed to (and says he will NOT agree to), is to do either IMChoo or IMLou with Dwayne. Training for the race and completing the race, prepared and feeling good, is a DREAM to me. He did 99% of my training runs for IMChoo with me and I loved (almost) every minute of it. (I didn't love it when he would run up nasty hills like it was nothing, taunting me every step of the way...but I sure loved every other minute of those runs!) That is my idea of a most excellent way to spend a day!!

He says we have to wait and see what happens. I'm registered for the LR marathon in March and we are both registered for IMChoo 70.3 in May...so is Cedric!!!! Dwayne knows I'm not doing as well as I need to be to even think about starting to train for an Ironman. But I think the real reason he won't agree is that he knows he can't keep up with (trained and ready) me. He needs to do this race with me because Cedric is planning to sign up for one in 2019. We'll be the cheering team for his first one, but after that, the race between the DeBardelabens will be ON in 2020.

Thanks for stopping in and sticking around.
:D

Beating the Turkey

Several people have told me last year's Turkey Chase race recap is one of their favorite race stories of mine.  This year's race went a bit different, starting with the fact my stinking sandbagging cheating husband didn't register.  The turkey I was going to chase this year was the one in my mind!

Here's the thing...I knew with a fair amount of certainty I would set a new PR.  I'm in considerably better shape now than I was when I ran the Firecracker 5K in 27:37 last July; I can usually run a 9:00 pace on any given day.  My tempo pace during the marathon training runs has been around 8:15-8:20 so I felt fairly confident in setting the goal to break 25 minutes...if my mind didn't let me down.

In all the marathon speed training runs (except one) I've been running with someone else.  I ran the first three miles of the Huntsville Half in 24:40 (but was running with someone I was trying to race-albeit unsuccessfully in the end-as well as a pacer) not to mention I would have an additional .1 mile to run, which would add on about 45ish seconds if I were running at an 8:00 pace.  I was a bit sore from my long run the Sunday before.  I had been in the car a total of about 40 hours in the previous 7 days (driving/sitting that much is exhausting!).  The wind was blowing about 14 mph according to Weather.com.

My mind was throwing up obstacles to my sub-25 goal faster than I could shake them loose.  So, I told myself what I would tell anyone else...you can't change your training at this point, all you can do is EXECUTE.  Time for that turkey in my mind to get the ax!

I set a plan...I wanted to run the first mile in 8:20, the second in 8:10 and the third in 8...that would leave me with pushing hard for the last .1.  The biggest problem I was facing was not trusting my Garmin.  It's been acting very strange lately and not giving me accurate pace information during runs.  Last week I was running fairly hard and looked down to see 14:30.  Granted, it doesn't stay there and the splits seem right, but if I can't see the correct pace how can I run it (because I CERTAINLY can NOT feel it)??  So when I met a women who said she thought she'd be keeping between an 8 and 8:30 pace I just about hugged her!  However, I should have known that was subject to change when her first answer to, "what kind of pace will you be running?" was, "it depends on who shows up today!" which was followed by some start line smack talk with another (obviously) local gal who was there to run with her son in his first 5K.

As the race director made final announcements, I took a deep breath and told myself to stay calm the first mile, run comfortably uncomfortable the first two miles, then hammer down the last mile, and kick the final .1.  The horn blasted and we were off.  I knew it felt a little fast at first, but when I looked down and saw 6:30 I thought I might faint.  Was the Garmin right?  I didn't think it could be by the way I was feeling, but could that just be adrenaline?  My "pacer" was about 15' in front of me.  The mom/son team were just behind me.

I told myself to stop watching ANYONE else.  The only race for me on this day was against the clock.  Sub 25 was my goal.  Sub 25 was my target.  But...without having a reliable watch to gauge my pace, how on Earth was I going to be able to make sure I didn't blow up in the last mile???  I reminded myself I KNOW about what an 8ish pace feels like.  What I needed to do was try to take myself out of the race, erase all the people who were running with me, bring my focus back to my body and stay centered.

Again...my race was against the clock, it didn't matter who passed me, even if the man pushing the stroller just trucked by as if I were standing still....even if my "pacer" was getting slightly further ahead with every step...even if the 12 year old boy running with his mom just trotted by...even if the FIFTY EIGHT YEAR OLD WEARING SHORT SHORTS AND A SPORTS BRA went passed me as if I were taking a walk in the park.  (Yes, I checked her age after it was said and done, she was 58, and no, I never caught her.)

I had to keep reminding myself to block out every other thought and remember what an 8ish pace feels like...and HOLD that.  When I saw the mile one flag, my Garmin only showed .9, and it read 7:23.  I decided I needed to stop looking at it and just run.  ...Yeah, right, like that was going to happen.

My mind was racing (7:23, holy stink...that's way too fast...you can't hold that...you should slow down...wow, you are THIRSTY...there's water at 2 miles, you should take a cup and get a sip, just to wet your throat...this isn't the goal race here, you don't want to get hurt running a stupid 5K...).  I could feel myself slowing down.  Garmin: 9:23.  I knew that was wrong.  I knew there was no way I had slowed that much.  I decided I needed to stop looking at it and just run.  Just let the time fall as it may and know I did my best.  But, what is my best???

The wind was brutal.  My mouth and throat were so dry.  All I could think about was the water at the 2.something mile marker.   The mile 2 flag was coming up.  I wanted to look at my Garmin, but knew I needed to just run.  I knew I had slowed down but I just didn't want to know how much at that point. I know I looked, but the time didn't register with me.  I saw the water table.  I had a decision to make.  I could let the turkey in my mind have it's way with me, allow myself to get water and slow down, or I could remember my plan to hammer down the last mile and kick the final .1.

I sailed passed the volunteer offering me a cup and started the chant in my head (only .9 to go, .90, .90, .90; only .89 to go, .89, .89, .89......I know how dreadful it sounds, but it works wonders on speeding me up and keeping my mind occupied).  I concentrated on my breathing.  I concentrated on strong legs and arms.  (Thinking about arm swing is another thing that usually helps me speed up.)  I tried not to notice when the NINE YEAR OLD body and TEN YEAR OLD girl raced by, or when lady with a dog on a leash passed me.  I took a deep breath and heard Chick Pea's voice in my head telling me to run my own race.  I heard the three Erics telling me to SUCK IT UP.  I heard Daisy telling me, "you got this."  About that time, I heard my sweet husband yelling, "DANA YOU GOT IT...YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE IT...GO GO GO!!!"  (It was at this point last year that same sweet husband left me eating his dust as he FLEW to the finish line.)

I focused in on the finish clock which read "24:something"...and I KICKED as hard as I could.  I was so focused on the clock, I didn't even notice I sailed passed the woman running with her dog.

Me after the race before pulling out the 20/20 hindsight glasses!

24:43.   Good enough for third out of 30 in my age group (40-49) and 42/181 over all.  More importantly than that...good enough to beat that turkey in my head.

...At least it was for about 5 minutes.  When I looked at my Garmin data, it said the first mile was about 8, the second about 8:25, the third about 8.  Immediately I started beating myself up for that second mile.  I could feel the slow down.  The prattle in my mind only got worse when I realized one of the women who passed me in the very end was the 2nd place winner of my age group (thirteen measly seconds ahead)...and first place???  THE LADY WHO WAS RUNNING WITH HER SON!!!!!  (They were less than a minute ahead of me.)  I don't think I could have realistically knocked off a full minute on that particular day...but I KNOW I could have knocked off 14 seconds.  I vividly remember her passing me because she was wearing a bright blue shirt.  I remember thinking I needed to hang on to her and take her DOWN.  It was about that time the little boy and girl raced passed both of us and the woman with the dog made her move.  I felt totally demoralized at that point...but my mind kept telling me I would be happy if I beat that blue shirted woman.

You know what...my mind was wrong.  Yes, if I'd have beaten the blue-shirt I would have beaten my goal AND would have come in second place.  But then I would have beaten myself up for not trying harder to beat the nine year old boy and ten year old girl...and if I'd have beaten them both, hindsight would have me upset I didn't target the mom and son.  The truth is I'll always be chasing a turkey, and the truth is...I like it that way!!  I'm not beating myself up.  I'm reveling in the fact I broke my 5K PR--blew it out of the water in fact.  I'm thrilled I didn't stop for water.  I'm ecstatic I pushed through all the thoughts in my head and had the ability to hammer down the last mile and kick the final .1.   On that day...I beat the turkey I set my target on.

Turkey chasing only makes me stronger.

What's next?  A sub four hour marathon on December 10, 2011.  The things that will get me there are trusting my training, making a plan, and EXECUTION.  That bird is MINE.

Thanks for stopping in.  Come again soon!
:D

Chasing the Turkey

We always go to my mother-in-law's house for Thanksgiving. I love it there. I love being at her house, I love all my in-laws, and I love where she lives. My only sadness this year (well, apart from not being able to eat all my usual favorite Thanksgiving Day foods because of food allergies) was not being in town for our "Turkey Trot" race. I knew it was going to be a fairly small event, but with all the familiar faces of the local runners I love seeing at races. So, I decided to find out if there would be a race where we were going...and lo and behold, I found one!!

The Inaugural Bluffton Turkey Chase was being held about 30 minutes away from Mom's house! I talked to my husband about registering for the race; I didn't want to offend his family by being gone that morning, and didn't want to stress anyone out by having my own (selfish) agenda. At the same time, with all my food allergies, knowing I wasn't going to be able to eat any of the yummy food, I really wanted something fun to look forward to on Thanksgiving. The day before the race he said he not only thought it would be a good idea, he said he was considering registering himself as well.

Now...let me say he used to be an elite (local) runner. He wouldn't compete with the Kenyans or anything, but he won a lot of his college cross country races, and was a front-of-the-pack runner in the handful of other-than-college races he entered. His best one mile time was in the 4's, and his usual 5K and 15K pace was in the low 5's. He was fast...back in the day. That was about 25 or so years ago ...:::cough::: and 25 or so pounds ago as well :::cough:::... , and long before he practically shattered his ankle in a non-running-related accident. Although he sporadically works out on the elliptical, let me just say he is not in the best of shape to go out and run a 5K.

But...at the same time, I know him well enough to know he wouldn't do anything to hurt himself.  He's had a full physical and has recently been to the cardiologist who said he has a very strong heart. That said, I was thrilled with the possibility of running a race with him....and yet, I knew he would NOT be able to keep up with me if I decided to RACE. I'm not, by any stretch of the imagination, bragging...I'm just telling it like it is. I've been running and he hasn't....and he has a gimpy ankle.

He made it very clear that I could do what ever I wanted to do-run with him or race on my own...or start out with him and then take off mid-race. But, I was internally very torn. There was a huge part of me that wanted to just RACE the thing and see exactly what I could do under the veil of anonymity! No pressure to perform, and absolutely no expectations from anyone for anything. I had a great run the day before and was feeling pretty spunky. Although it was a little warm, it was NICE running weather and it looked to be a flat, fast course....and it seemed to be a very small race (read: less competition!).

BUT, this might be my "only" chance at running with the love of my life...a chance I didn't want to take for granted. We registered that morning without any idea what I was going to do (his plan was to just walk/run/finish). I did a full on warm up (complete with butt-kickers and high knees and a good half mile or so topped off with a couple little wind sprints) ...while he took in the scenery. As we were waiting to start I continued to debate what I would do (run with him or not).  He started talking smack, saying if I wanted to beat him I needed to do it early on because if I waited to the sprint for the finish he would smoke my ham.

I should have realized what was happening.  But I didn't.

I not only bit the bait, I swallowed it hook, line and sinker. I agreed to run with him, and we decided to run 5 minutes and walk 1 minute, at a pace set by him, and then we'd race to the finish when we got to the last tenth of a mile.


They sounded the horn and we were off.  Since this race was called the "Turkey Chase" they had someone wearing a turkey hat on a bike out in front leading the way--CUTE.  We very quickly lost sight of him...but we were still running MUCH faster than I would have EVER started on my own.  Our first run interval was at a pace of between 7:39-9:17!!

Again, I should have realized what was happening.  But I didn't.

My "poor" husband was wheezing and huffing and puffing.  I kept saying we were starting off too fast, that there was no way he'd be able to keep that pace up the whole time.  He told me I needed to go ahead and leave him but at that pace, I was doing good just to keep up!  But, I knew it was only for 5 minutes and then we'd have a walk break so it was all good.  At the end of our 60 second reprieve, my dear husband sounded like he was going to keel over.  I kept asking him if he needed to walk longer and he kept telling me NO.  We slowed down each interval after that.

We were passed by the woman in the knee brace.  We were passed by the man we met at the start who said he never runs.  We were passed by the woman pushing the baby jogger.  We were passed by the 5 year old running with his grandmother.  Then we were passed by the man walking with the oxygen tank.  Only kidding about that last part, but at one point I heard sirens and was CONVINCED someone had heard my darling husband gasping for air and decided to call 911.  Yes, it was REALLY that bad.  The whole time we were running, I felt GREAT.  I'm pretty sure I couldn't have maintained that initial pace he set for the whole race, but maybe I could have done it using the interval method.  But he seemed like he was doing good just to continue to move forward much less to keep running.

With each interval he made it appear to be harder and harder to keep going the full time, but he did...until we neared the end of the race.  He said he wanted to shorten our last run interval (before the sprint to the finish) and then lengthen our last walk interval.  That would mean we would be walking up to where we would sprint in the last little bit.

In the final run interval he told me, again, if I wanted to beat him I needed to leave him there.  I was so consumed with worry for my dear, darling, out of shape husband I didn't want to leave him on the course.   At the same time, I was terrified that he would hurt himself trying to beat me.  I had visions of me blissfully flying through the finish only to look back to see him collapsed on the road.  But he assured me he was fine.


And again...I should have realized what was happening.  But I didn't.

As we were walking to the start of our own personal race to the finish the people were cheering and clapping for the man they thought wouldn't make it this far...oblivious to what was about to happen.  We had planned to round the final corner and take off...which we did.

I could hear Daisy in my head telling me what a great finish line kick I have and I was feeling especially spunky because of the lack of effort I had to give on the course...and I shot ahead the first, oh, maybe 50 FEET.

I'll pause here and ask you...do you know the meaning of the word "sandbagging"??  I always thought it was just someone who wasn't giving their full effort.  But, no.  Sandbagging, according to the Urban Dictionary is actually "when a player in any game chooses (on purpose) to not play their best. Normally this is because they are too superior, they want to hustle you...."

It was at the moment my darling, formerly wheezing, huffing, puffing, lolly-gagging, SANDBAGGING husband SHOT past me that I finally realized what had happened.  I was consoled ONLY by the fact I had refused to put a bet for anything other than bragging rights on the line!!  The crowd was laughing hysterically because I was screaming "YOU CHEATER!!  YOU STINKING CHEATER" as he surged ahead of me with apparent ease as I was running my shoes off as fast as my legs could carry me.  (So fast in fact that my hat flew off my head!)

He told me later that I would have easily beat him if I had left him early...and that he had completely orchestrated the finish, lengthening the walk break so as to maximize his recovery in order to give him enough umph for the finishing sprint.  (My fastest pace in that finish....4:19!!!)

I was chasing the turkey alright...but it wasn't the kid on the bike I was trying to catch!!

(BTW, he was at least sore the next couple of days.  Serves him right.  Stinking sandbagging cheater!!)

Thanks for stopping in, come again soon!  :D