tallahassee half marathon race recap
Flawed describes my races in 2019. I did not perform to my potential due mostly to recurrent and inexplicable side cramps that’d hit late in the efforts and cripple my pace for at least a mile until they ceased. In Tallahassee, a stitch smacked my right ribcage just as before. The difference this time lay in my handling of the situation. For once, I claimed the victory.
I entered Tallahassee with a pretty set plan, though too remained flexible about the process. I programmed a “workout” in my Garmin dictating pace ranges to keep myself within. I committed to pausing at every aid station to sip water, since dehydration hits me hard and sudden during many a race and I wanted to experiment with more regular drinking AND not carrying my bottle, since I find the latter pretty annoying oftentimes. Most importantly, though, I detached myself from intense expectation. I have only trained for a single half marathon in the past and because of that, I’m less in tune with how my body wants to handle that distance. I had goals, desires, “in a perfect day” scenarios, but ultimately I wanted to finish strong and healthy and satisfied.
I awakened to 39 degrees and a still, calm, starlit morning. Shuffled out of bed and, with a groggy J in tow, padded downstairs to a room supposedly set with morning nibbles for the runners. A few others sat at the round banquet tables, sipping water and coffee. I grabbed a cup and myself planted at a table. The staff mislabeled the airpots and all of us who noticed prayed we weren’t actually downing decaf – turns out, we weren’t. Breakfast was supposed to be started at 5:30 but didn’t come out until well after, which seemed to ruin one girl’s pre-race routine pretty handily. Can’t blame her necessarily. Not smart to mess with a marathoner’s digestion. J and I previously ran to the grocery store and squirreled some bagels upstairs, so I snagged a banana and opted for our own concoction rather than play to chance and my finicky stomach.
I chose a plain bagel, peanut butter, and half a banana as my choice fuel for the morning. A bit after I gulped my coffee I took in a tablet of Nuun with caffeine, lime flavor. Then I paced. And paced, and paced, until around 6:50 when I bade J farewell and hit the treadmill for a 2 mile warmup. I needed to log 16 miles for the day, and generating some heat indoors sounded better than chancing a wrong turn outside and missing the race start.
At first glance the race field seemed pretty small. Plenty of people milled about but no patch felt over cramped. The sunrise trickled down Monroe and laid stripes across the asphalt. I timed my warmup well enough and didn’t have to wait long before the start whistle – all better since I wasn’t keen on cooling off too much and catching chill or stiffening. Soon enough, the bleep resounded and off we went.
The first two miles undulated aggressively (at least for me, a central Florida native who doesn’t know what hills are, really) and I focused on curbing my enthusiasm on both the uphills and downhills. After mile two we hit a long downhill and, though unable to help entirely increasing my speed, I held back enough to preserve my quads and ensure gravity didn’t get the best of me. Spectators on the side of the road held up interesting, humorous signs around Lake Ella, and I smiled at each when I felt appropriate. I keep reading how grins lessen the discomfort of racing, so it became a goal, too, to keep a happy face even when the latter miles got hard. Through the first 5K my splits were 8:34, 8:36, and 8:23.
I snarfed down two Orange Clif Bloks just before mile 4 at the aid station. We ran down a scenic, green neighborhood before re-entering business areas, and around mile 6 looped into a pretty park with a long, steady incline. We reentered greenspace and took on a steep incline that actually took my breath for a brief spell. Most of the ups beforehand I took like a champ, but this one winded me. Thankfully we hit a satisfying downhill before a couple more ascents, which weren’t nearly as severe as the aforementioned. Miles 4-7 splits: 8:30, 8:14, 8:29, and 8:34.
Mile 8 terminated the notable hills, thus we entered flatter regions of the city. We raced back through the park from which we came before the period in the greenery. By this point, my legs felt shockingly fresh, though the lack of stimulation on my legs via hills rendered me a bit more stale. My breathing, however, remained steady. My mantra the whole race was to keep “yogi breath” and reminding myself to inhale and exhale deeply removed any labor involved with respiration. It amazes me how these seemingly tiny mental tricks do wonders quelling uncertainty and nerves.
Mile 10 I still felt strong, contrary to my half in 2018 where I crashed after mile 8 and couldn’t quite return to the effort I’d logged previously. We ran down a sideroad briefly and a group of who I’m assuming were fraternity brothers, or similar, lined up on either side as a sort of tunnel for runners to pass through. They yelled “oooooh!” as runners approached, banging the air as if hammering drums, and when the runner swept by flung their hands up with a loud “aaaaaay!” I threw my arms up with them, laughed, said thank you, and kept going with renewed vigor. Miles 8-10: 8:25, 8:23, 8:25.
By the end of mile 10 in Tallahassee, however, I felt a tightness in my right rib that didn’t sit well with me. I turned a corner just before mile 11, a steeper downhill, and suddenly my ribcage blasted open. I huffed and slowed to a walk, pressing the area and puffing loudly. I couldn’t fathom my misfortune. Two miles to go and THIS happens? I’d come so far in the race with such an even, satisfying effort. No way, this time, I’d let it strangle the race. I began to trot and engaged yogic fire breath, a boisterous method of pranayama that really engages the diaphragm and opens the abdominals to welcome air into the region. I set my focus to the painful patch and slowly, as I moved along and sped up, the cramp evaporated. I lost very little time during mile 11, in fact practically none at all. My worry thereafter was that no one thought I was in distress with the loud breath pattern I exhibited!
The race came to close around the Florida State University campus. We turned a corner into a parking lot and hit one more aid station just before mile 12. When my watch buzzed for the mile marker, I let it loose. The last mile was a subtle downhill and about halfway through I saw J on the side of the road. He smiled and waved, eventually having to call my name directly since I was so in the zone I didn’t even recognize his face. Gave me some extra momentum to fly. I saw him once more right before mile marker 13, and by then I clocked an 8:10 pace without even realizing it. Apparently, my last little bit was at a 7:30, about .05 miles worth, but still!
Right before the final timing mat I heard the race announcer call my name over the speaker to welcome me to the finish. I crossed the line smiling. I made a funny face at the race photographer in doing so. Shortly after grabbing my medal, J met up with me and I gave him a long, happy hug and found my voice hoarse from the cold and probably lack of use. The finish area was rather miniscule but one of the kiosks had a giant platter of grapes, to which I happily helped myself before hitting the road for one final mile to round out my 16. It amazed me how hard the slower pace felt juxtaposed with the effort I just put forth. I called this mile my victory lap, as I joined with the race course for a bit and naturally got some quips about my continual running. Pretty glad the cooldown mile ended when it did. My legs were not necessarily happy with me.
Miles 11-13: 8:30, 8:36, 8:10, and 8:10 for the final .1.
I credit my quality race experience to a few factors. For one, I carb loaded three days before (see one day’s worth here!), and though not everyone approaches the half marathon this way, I truly think it helped keep my legs snappy and lessened my need for lots of fuel during the run. The weather helped, too. I think, though, the grandest factor was how smart I paced the race. I’m usually pretty crap at knowing how to approach pacing, but since I entered aware of the hilly nature of Tallahassee, I was able to lessen my effort during inclines and give just enough leeway to gravity on declines to catch up to whatever pace I may have lost when I climbed sans ruining my legs.
I’d recommend the race itself. Tallahassee is quite residential in nature, but the directors did a good job of choosing more eyecatching and appealing spots to showcase to runners. I can’t speak for the marathon route, as the half and full split at mile 8, but I was glad for the race’s offerings. One criticism I have really doesn’t involve the race itself, but the hotel. If breakfast is stated at 5:30, have it done at 5:30. And for the love of God, don’t serve butter-laden croissants as pre race fuel!
Race splits: 1:51:11 / 13.15 miles / 8:27 pace
