Yesterday I became a real runner. Yes, I've been running for nearly thirty years. Yes, I've done ten marathons, 15 Ironmans and a 100 mile ultra run. But yesterday I truly became a real runner. Why? Because I fully believed in myself. Because I gave it everything I had while maintaining a solid pace at the end of a triathlon. Even during the best runs I've done over the years, I've rarely been able to combine a full effort while maintaining my pace. I've had many solid races that I'm proud of. I've given it everything I've had many times. But in almost all of those cases, my pace had slowed considerably from what I'd hoped or thought I was capable. Something changed yesterday, and I now feel like I'm a real runner.
So much of athletics and racing is mental. You can do all the training in order to prepare yourself, but in the end, you have to actually execute on your training. That's where the mental component comes into play. For the last year or so I've transformed my run training. I'm running 40 miles a week nearly every week. Last year I even had a period of time where I was regularly running between 40 and 50 miles a week. Lately, I've maintained this new volume of running while increasing my biking and swimming. I run on a very hilly course almost every day, so it's hard to know how fast I can run on flatter ground. I've also been running regularly at a relatively low heart rate, so it's also hard to know how fast I can run if I give it a harder effort. Some recent race results have suggested that I've gotten faster, but nothing prepared me to have the confidence for what I did yesterday. Now, because of what I did, I have the confidence for future races.
I'd been mentally visualizing the Santa Barbara Triathlon for a few weeks. Most of my visualization was focused on the swim and the bike. In some regards, I knew what I wanted to do on the run, but since the run is last, I couldn't allow myself to think too far ahead. I needed to have a solid swim and bike first. But once the run began, I'd figured and hoped it would all come together. I knew that I would stay within myself for the first five miles and then give it everything I had on the way back. I just didn't expect to be running at the pace that I found myself running at. For years I look at the men at the top of my age group and find myself in awe of their run pace. I've always considered them to be an echelon above me. They are real runners. After yesterday I can wonder if I'm close to being one of them.
When I came out of transition from the bike and started running, I looked down at my watch, to find that my run pace was close to 8:15. In fact, I decided to back off a bit, thinking that might be too fast, and when I settled into a very comfortable (Zone 2) effort, I was still close to 8:30 pace. The first two miles were flat and therefore really gave me a good idea of how I can run on flat ground after swimming and biking. At the second mile, my run pace had actually dropped closer to 8:15. This was essentially the pace I kept for the first 10 miles of a recent half marathon, before slowing down at the end. My legs felt good. The next part was the big surprise. I had expected to slow down to between 9 and 10 minute pace on the uphill section, especially because I'd committed myself to maintaining a comfortable effort. As I ran up the hill, I realized that my pace was still under 9 minute pace. Hmmm. This was going to be interesting. By the end of the fourth mile, having completed most of the climbing, it had become clear that something was different. I was still running comfortably and my pace was still around 8:45. As things flattened out, I held my effort steady and found myself back at 8:30 pace at the turnaround. Time to pick up the effort. Over the years, this has been where I pick up the effort, but my legs don't really follow. Yesterday, they did. And I believed that they would.
During the sixth mile, my pace dropped to just below 8 minute pace. In March that would have been close to my pace for a 5K. I was now halfway through a ten mile run at the end of a triathlon that would take me nearly four hours. Where was this coming from? The seventh mile would tell me the truth. Running downhill should allow you to run faster, if you have the legs to do so. I opened up my stride and just focused on running fast and hard. My breathing picked up and for the next two miles I was running 7:36 pace. In June I'd done a Sprint Triathlon (albeit at altitude) and my run pace was 8:10 for 5K, and I had given it my all.
I knew that if I was going to see where my running was truly at these days that the last few miles would tell me the truth. In some ways, my watch became my friend, and my north star. During the 8th mile I kept my pace right at 7:36 and just did what I needed to do to maintain it. It certainly was feeling a lot harder, but I didn't back off. I kept up the effort and the speed. Once the course flattened out again for the last two miles my watch was my rabbit. I wouldn't let my speed slow beyond 8 minute pace. I was running all out and breathing all out essentially for the last 5K of this race. Both of my last miles were at 7:55 pace.
After a relatively hard 1 mile swim and a very solid 2 hour bike ride, I ran ten miles at 8:12 pace. I literally ran down 4 other guys in my age group, including the guy who won the age group two years ago. I couldn't catch the winner of my age group, but I ran 6 minutes faster than he did (he is an outstanding swimmer and put nearly 9 minutes into me on the swim). If the course was completely flat (like Ironman California will be), I should have been able to maintain a sub 8 minute pace for ten miles. Could I hold it for 13.1? I think so. I should at least be able to give it a shot. Ironman will be different, but the concepts are the same and the training is there.
In my age group, if one can run a marathon in under 4 hours you have a great shot at being on the podium and even winning the age group. That has always been my goal, but a goal and reality are two different things. In my mind, after yesterday's race, the idea of starting a flat Ironman run at 9 minute pace and holding it for 26.2 miles began to take shape. I have little doubt in my mind that I could hold such a pace for twenty miles. The rest is guts and mental fortitude. I know I have that now, or at the very least, I'm capable of it. I am capable of being a real runner. I believe in myself.
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