Head Games

So, guess what? I kicked my old PB’s butt by ten minutes and crossed the Army Half finish line with a chip time of 1:55 (clock time 1:57)!

Friday morning, I started getting race jitters, which is early for me. By the time we were in our corrals on Sunday morning I *literally* could not stand still. Because no one else around me seemed to be riddled with pre-run anxiety/energy, I blasted my headphones and watched the sky and obsessively squeezed the gel packs in my hands and bounced on my toes.

I decided to follow the 1:55 pace bunny, because I was feeling strong and excited and the air was so fresh. I figured I give her 5k and then assess the situation. I stuck close to her until about 8k, and then dropped back a bit. I was probably about one minute behind her until 16k when I decided to walk through a water station and eat my last gel.

At that point, I knew I was getting close to the 18k wall. I let myself slow the tiniest bit in an attempt to save some energy for the last three kilometres. At 18k things got uncomfortable, as they always do, but I told myself to push through. I was quite certain that I was going to (solidly) break two hours by that point, but I also knew that it was close enough to be sabotaged by mental weakness.

I gauged myself at about 1:58 and when I rounded the bend and saw the clock, I was super excited to see 1:57. I figured my chip time would be 1:56, but the great thing about starting farther back in big races is that you waste a solid 90 seconds walking to the start line after the gun has gone off. I checked my stats on the Sports Stats site and squealed with glee when I saw 1:55. I knew I had a 1:55 in me, but honestly through it would take one or two more halfs to get there.

It was like everything aligned for this race. For one, it was the first run I’ve done in a long time without humidity. It was also the perfect temperature – warm in the sun but chilly and breezy in the shade (and the route had a lot of shade). I didn’t wear my water belt (at my husband’s insistence) and was really happy for that around 17k which is when the pressure on my stomach usually starts to give me cramps. The route was crowded, but it wasn’t the same overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by people that I encountered in May during the marathon and I think that is a combination of the lack of humidity, the lack of rain and the fact that I knew how running surrounded by people feels. (Ottawa Marathon was my first really big race.)

But most of all? It was mental. This was the first race maybe in my entire life that I didn’t let up. I was there mentally. When things felt great I told myself it wasn’t always going to feel great but I was strong enough to push through it. When things sucked (hello hills! I run in Ottawa for flat routes!) I told myself that it would pass and to breathe deep and push through because not breaking two hours was not an option. I always fall apart at 18k and I didn’t. I always run a little faster than I should be able to at the end of a half marathon and I didn’t – because I couldn’t.

As I happily pumped my first in the air while crossing the finish line, I realized I had really and truly pushed myself to my limit.

And you know, every time, every time I push those limits and feel this intense pride in myself, I am amazed all over again that our limits are merely barriers we put down.

1:55. It still feels surreal. (It’s also 562/2600 in my new age group of 30-39.)

You’ve got a 1:49 in you, I know you do, my husband told me as we laid in our hotel bed after the run drinking beer.

Maybe I do. But today, I’m still cruising on the happiness of finally starting to learn how to tap into my own strength and to just keep pushing like a slightly insane woman.