I've never actually encountered a real leech before. They sound gross, though. Grabbing a hold of you, sucking out your blood, feeding off of your energy, YUCK! Yet, I have to confess, in my last race, The OTC 10 Miler, I acted as a leech. I fueled myself off my hosts energy, and I didn't let anything detach me from them.Race day morning the weather was bad. It had been raining and windy all weekend. The weather man warned of gusts up to 40mph and 1-3 inches of accumulation before the weekend was over. I guess you could say we were fortunate because Sunday morning it was only raining lightly and the winds had calmed down to a mild 13mph. Also, there were no down trees on the race course and only one really massive puddle that you couldn't get around. The lack of intense wind gusts kept the remaining branches attached to their repective trees rather than flying through the air and taking out runners.
We had driven down to Eugene from Salem that morning and Steve had been late picking us up. Then, I had an "emergency" pit stop at a gas station in Coburg on the way down which further delayed us. When we finally got to Eugene, my nerves, and possibly the steak fajitas from the night before, had gotten to me again and I had to make another pit stop at the bathrooms in park where the race was being held. I hate these bathrooms because the stalls have no doors on them. I only use them when it's a real emergency, and even though I had just gone, this was an emergency. As soon as Steve parked the car, I bolted. Another woman was heading in at the same time, and I thought, oh great, now one of us is going to have to walk past the other one while they are doing their business. "Hi," I said, trying to make this a little less awkward by exchanging pleasantries ahead of time. "Hi," she said, "there's no toilet paper in the bathrooms." "What?" I said as the blood left my face. I felt mortified. "There's no toilet paper," she said again, "I was in here earlier and left to go grab some from my car." I stepped inside every stall and checked. She was right, there was no toilet paper. "Here," she said, handing me a small clump from her pocket, "I brought a bunch." "Um, thanks," I said as I stared at the few squares in my hand. I was now panicking. This was not going to be enough. I debated for a second about running back out to Steve's car and telling the boys we needed to drive to the nearest Starbucks so I that could use their restroom. Maybe Steve even had TP in his car. But as soon as the thought had entered, I ran into a stall. I could not hold my bowels for one more second. I dropped trow and situated myself in a squat hovering above the toilet. I won't go into the details, but lets just say, it was a bad situation and the tiny little clump of TP I was grasping in my had was not going to cut it. My quads began quivering under my body weight. I felt like I had been holding Yoga Chair Pose for the past hour. As my brain scramble to figure out a solution to my toilet paper problem, I heard the the lady who had lent me some of hers flush. She walked past me making sure to keep her eyes forward. Oh man, was I really going to do this? "Um," I said meekly, "you wouldn't happen to have any more toilet paper, would you?" I heard her chuckle and she stuck her hand around the corner revealing a large wad of TP. "Thank you so much!" I finished my business, cleaned up the best I could, still mortified I had not done a good enough job and it may come back to haunt me in the race, and got out of there. As I jogged back to Steve's car, my legs felt like I had bricks strapped to my feet. The squatting had turned them into aching noodles. We only had time to jog for about two miles. We were dodging puddles the whole way and averaged about nine minute pace. The whole time I was thinking, I can hardly lift my legs. Boy I've screwed up this race.
After a weak attempt at some form drills, I filed into the starting line and attempted to shield myself on all sides with runners. Because it was in the mid 50's, I had chosen to only wear a singlet, shorts, hat, and gloves. A good choice for a 10 mile race, but not such a good choice for just standing around in. The race was late to start because the 5K lead biker was no where to be found. After an eight minute delay, the race was underway. Opposite from my race strategy at the windy 10K Scandia (there it was to race my own race), I tucked in behind Kevin and followed his lead. My goal was to run with Kevin and Steve as long as I could. They had wanted to start out at 6:25 and work down from there. I was thinking that if I could just average 6:25-6:30 pace, I would be thrilled. I knew my decision to leech onto these guys early on could ruin my race. I decided to take the risk and see if my body was capable than more than my brain thought it was.
We ran the first mile slow. Not intentionally, but because Kevin's Nike GPS was off. My watch had us at 6:35 pace, so I said to Kevin, "Hey, we're going a little slow." "No we're not," he said, "We're at 6:23. A little too fast." I asked a runner next to us what his watch was at and he agreed that we were going 6:35 pace. "Well, crap!" said Kevin as he began to pick it up. Steve and I followed his pacing, but we still hit the first mile in 6:35. I wasn't too jolted by this since I was just hoping to average a smidgen under 6:30 pace. If anything I thought this may help me hold onto the boys longer. There were two run-around-the-cone U-turns on the course, and at the first one we saw a runner in front of us slip and fall. "Take the turns easy," noted Kevin. I was glad we were starting out conservative, because I didn't feel adequately warmed up and my quads were still a little achy.
After the cone, Kevin picked up the pace and we hit 6:28 for the second mile. Then Steve then made a move and took the lead from Kevin. I kept my second position and now paced behind Steve. We passed several people at this point, including two women, which put me in contention for third woman overall. I was nervous about making this move so early, because I knew the women who I had passed were fast. Was I picking up the pace to early? Was I going to crash and burn later on? Then my watch chirped 6:28 for mile three and I knew I was still close to right where I had wanted to be even if I was running my own race at this point. Kevin took over the lead again and that's when we ran a 6:15 for mile four. "Balls!!" I shouted when I looked down at my watch. "That was a 6:15, boys." This split didn't seem to phase either of them, and they ignored my comment. My brain was doing cartwheels. Well I had made up for the first slow mile, but jeez, 6:15?!? At mile four?!? What was I doing running with these guys? Was this how it was going to be now? They had started out too slow, so now they had all this extra energy built up and they were going to run the last six miles of the race at my 10K PR pace? This is crazy! I debated falling back and just letting them do their own thing and I would do mine. At this point, we caught up to another group and despite our efforts to pass, one of the guys hung with us. Oh, great, I thought, now I'm pacing with three boys. This is not smart, Anna. Yet, I didn't back off the pace. I just kept running with them. I realized that seeing the 6:15 on my watch was more of a mental shock to my system, rather than a physical shock. My legs still felt fine, my breathing was under control, and my upper body was relaxed. I decided at that point that I was going to stay with our "wolf pack" (that's what the course marshals started calling our group as we ran by) as long as my body could hold out.
As we made our way off the second bridge in the race and took a sharp turn left, we were warned it was slippery and to stay to the left because the course would fold back on itself and we'd be seeing the leaders coming at us. As we ran toward mile six, where the last cone turn around was, I began to feel more confident that I had not made a mistake going out too hard. I had done a good job keeping up with Kevin and Steve at this point and felt like I could repeat what we had just done in the second half of the race. Then Steve took the lead again and kept us at an honest 6:18 pace through mile five. Instead of staring at my Garmin wide-eyed when the split popped up, and simply noted it and kept moving forward. I was a leech and I was not going to detach. As we saw the first runners on their way back, some of them said good job and others just waved. The greatest, though, were the ones that did a double take when I ran past. I imagined them thinking to themselves, was that Anna? What is she doing way up here? Wow! Ok, maybe they weren't thinking that, but if I saw myself, that's what I would have been thinking. Or maybe something more along the lines of, what an idiot!
During mile six, we slowed down to loop around the last cone and then began our four mile trek to the finish line- into the wind. As soon as I was around the cone, I looked immediately to my right to see who was coming up on us. No one was there. I looked down the bike path ahead of us and saw no one. No one! I couldn't believe we had formed such a gap on all the people we had passed. Finally, I estimated it was about a minute behind us, I saw the two women that we had passed at mile three running together towards us. Part of me felt relieved that I had a decent size gap on them. Another part of my panicked because they both still looked fresh. I was wondering if they were saving themselves for the last four miles of the race. The wind and turns were going to make these last miles hard and my Garmin reflected this was the case after we ran a 6:20 and 6:24 for miles six and seven. I tried my best to file in behind Kevin and Steve as they took turns taking over the lead, but it was hard to stay completely out of the wind. At mile eight, Kevin was leading and said that he was really going to pick it up on the last two miles. I said, "Ok, sounds good." I felt like I still had some juice in the legs and I was looking forward to seeing just how much. We hit mile eight in 6:18 and Kevin accelerated. We hit mile nine in 6:16. Huh, I thought, uneventful. At this point, we had lost Steve and it was just Kevin, the random guy, and me. We approached the park where the finish line was, and I suddenly got giddy. We were almost done! "Whoohoo! We are almost done! Half mile to go!" I shouted. I surged a head of Kevin and my sudden endorphin rush took him by surprise. He hesitated for a second and then took the lead back from me. We lost the random guy and now it was just Kevin and I making our way around the duck pond, on the slippery cobblestone. Kevin kept inching away from me, and I did my best to keep up with him, but I was afraid I might slip if I got up on my toes anymore than I already was. There were a lot of turns and the footing was bad. I decided I would wait to throw down my sprint until we got on the concrete straightaway. I took one last look across the pond where I had just run to see if I could see any women coming up behind me. No one. As I made my final turn toward the finish line, I could hear the announcers cheering in two men. Wow, I thought, I had see no one in front of Kevin, Steve, and I for so long. We must have really picked up the pace on this last mile. As soon as our path was straight, Kevin took off and I followed. I got up on my toes and was surprised by how much of a sprint I had left for just running ten miles. As I crossed the line, I looked over at the clock and saw that I was at 1:03 something. I hit my watch and came to a heaving stop. As soon as I caught my breath I began screaming. "AHHHHHH!" I grabbed Kevin and gave him a huge bear hug. "Wooohooo! I did it, Babe! I kept up with you the whole time! Yes! This is amazing! Whooo!" I was so excited and I suddenly didn't feel tired at all. Normally, I finish a race and I'm hunched over, sucking wind, trying not to throw up on the person taking off my chip or bib tag. This time, the race officials had to get my attention to collect the proof of my achievements because I was too busy celebrating with my husband. We waited in the chute for Steve to finish, which was only about twenty seconds after us. "Come on, let's go cool down," I said to Kevin. "Let's go. Oh man, I'm so pumped! We need to keep running, come on..." I started jogging off and Kevin just grumbled. I was on a runner's high. I felt like I could keep going, keep running forever at that point. The rain had started to come down harder and Kevin had to keep yelling at me to slow down. "Babe, I can't run that fast right now, my hamstring is really tight." I just kept jabbering away when I hear him say, "What are you saying? I can't hear you up there. Anna, slow down!" I just giggled. I knew what he meant. Slow my cool down pace down. There's no need to run 7:30 pace or faster after just racing 10 miles. But another interpretation of what he was asking me to do had crossed my mind, and I thought, no, Kevin, I won't slow down. This is how fast I am now. You've got a little leech you have to deal with in races from now on. I'm your pace now.
After about a mile and a half Kevin headed back to the car and I kept running. I wanted to get in about 15 miles that day and I just needed one more mile to hit my goal. I ran on Pre's Trail and the bark was squishy from all the rain. I began to get really cold and wished I had put on a jacket before cooling down. I didn't rush back to the car, though. I needed this time to myself. I wanted to reflect on what I had just done. I had gone against my better judgment to prove that my body was capable of doing more than my brain thought it could. I realized that if I have a goal and give my brain no other options, then I can reach that goal. There was no workout leading up to this race that gave me a reason to believe that I was capable of running ten miles at a 6:20 pace. I had had so many horrible tempo runs earlier in my training that I was elated when I was able to average 6:25 pace for six miles just the week before. I had figured that would be the best pace I could average for the 10 Miler, but after pacing with Kevin and Steve in other workouts in the past two weeks, I decided to try to pace with them in the race as well. And it worked! My running block had been mental and even though I had known that, I still tried to blame it on other things, like just sucking in general. Now I didn't have any excuses.
I'm running my first marathon since spring 2011 in three weeks. I'm pretty excited to see if I can hit my goal of sub-three hours. I had gone into this training cycle thinking it was a done deal, but after struggling early on, I changed my goal to 3:02-3:03. Now I'm back on board with believing that I'm faster than I think I am. I'm ready to take it to the next level mentally and "unleech" myself by running the race solo because Kevin and Steve won't be there to pace me. It's just going to be me, my body, and my brain.
