Race Report - Super Bowl Sunday 4 Miler

On Sunday I ran in the 18th Annual Super Bowl Sunday 4 Mile Run, here in Wichita, KS. For this particular race, only race-day registrations were taken, so I got to the race location about an hour before the start time. The weather was not the greatest, the temps were in the low 40s and the sun was out, but the winds were out of the north at 15+ mph. I went inside, filled out my registration form, picked up my number and t-shirt, and headed back out to my car to get myself organized. This was a 4 mile race, and according to my half marathon training schedule, I needed to run 5 miles. So I had decided that I would run a one mile warmup before the race. I'd never really run that much of a warmup before, but I needed to get the extra mile in and was going to have more time before the race than after. After I got my Garmin and mp3 players on, I set out from my car to run an out and back mile.

My hamstrings were a little sore at first, a consequence of power yoga the day before the race. I wondered if that was going to bother me, but about a quarter of a mile later the soreness was gone. I check my Garmin, I'm running a much faster pace than I want to for a warm-up. My legs feel like a champagne bottle about to be uncorked, I think my body knows it's about to race and wants to be let loose. I tone it down and finish off the mile feeling pretty good.

There's still about half an hour left until the race starts, so I pin my number on my shirt and head back inside to use the restrooms one last time. Inside I run into a couple of married friends who are also runners, and start to chat with them. I tell them that I'm running the Disney Princess half marathon and the Oklahoma City Marathon, and they're both really excited for me. This is the least nervous I've ever been before a race, maybe because I don't really care how fast I run, maybe because talking to them takes my mind off it. I decide to take my gloves back out to my car and leave them, because I think I'll be warm enough without them. Walking back up to the building, I catch the gusts of wind and start to wonder if that's the right decision. It's just been anounced tha the first half of the course is to the north, into the wind, and it's starting to get overcast. I start to fear that I haven't dressed warmly enough, and wonder if I'll warm up enough during the race. Not really any time to worry about that now, everyone's making their way to the starting line.

I find a place a little ways back from the starting line to stand - I tend to go out way too fast at the beginning of races, and don't want to make that mistake this time. But I also don't want to fight too much congestion, I can tell this will be a narrow course and everyone is packed in together. I turn on my mp3 player, stuff my hands into my armpits to keep them warm, and wait a couple of minutes for the starting gun. I try to think about the people who are "virtually" running with me, and keep myself focused on my goal, which is to maintain my "race pace" through the start. In other words, not to streak out like a bandit only to regret it later. The start is a little congested, I'm limited to 11 minute miles at first until I can start weaving around some people. Within the first third of a mile, the crowds have started to thin out. I'm paying close attention to my garmin, and doing well on pace. Although we're running into the wind, it doesn't seem that bad. I try to take advantage of the situation and draft off other runners when I can. At .6, I draft off a woman in a blue shirt, and then pass her on a curve. I then proceed to pass a couple more women, and then a couple more, and then a couple more. I almost can't believe it, I'm normally the one being passed, not the passer. The thought encourages me to keep my speed up, I see a large group of men ahead of me - and I'm gaining on them. Soon enough, I'm on their tails - and then I'm passing them. I politely ask one of said men to move out of my way so that I can pass by. My passing streak continues to the halfway mark - my split is 17:51. My garmin split is a little bit faster, because I was a few seconds back from the start line. I'm going a little faster than my half marathon goal pace, but feeling good still so I decide to keep going for it. After mile 2, we've turned around and are headed back to the south. I start to warm up now, and actually get a little hot. I think that maybe with the wind at my back I can run the second half of the race a little faster.

At this point, I'm basically on my own on the course, there's no one in my immediate vicinity, and it's sort of nice. As we're almost to mile 3, I get passed by one guy, and then another. I turn around to look behind me, but no one else is close, so I feel like I'm at least holding my own. At mile 3, my split is just over 26 minutes, making that the fastest 5K I've ever run. I realize that if I can hang onto my pace for the next mile, I'm going to have a new PR at the end. By now my legs are starting to feel a little heavy and my lungs are starting to feel the burn of the extra effort. I keep reminding myself that the race is not going to last much longer and that I just need to hang on. The last mile of any race or run always seems to be the longest for me, so I'm trying to just run as hard as I can and not look at my garmin, because I don't want to see how slowly the distance is creeping up.

Eventually I do look, and realize that I'm a quarter mile away from the finish - I'm running a 7:30 pace now. Unreal. I start to wonder if I'm going to pass out or throw up as soon as I stop running, and then decide that I don't really care because I can see the flags that mark the finish line. I can see the clock now, all I need to do is keep running and I'm going to get a new PR. I keep my eye on my garmin as I cross the finish line, I've kept up the 7:30 pace for the last quarter of a mile. My garmin says 35:17, 4.02 miles. I decline a tissue as I pass by the volunteers, because I'm afraid to quit moving. Although I didn't feel it when I was running, I can feel now that my lungs are burning from the effort. It doesn't really bother me though, because I know I just ran the best race that I've ever run. Not only was it the fastest race that I've ever run, but it was the first race I've ever run where I've been able to keep a relatively consistent pace throughout and still have enough kick left to sprint at the end. The first race I've ever run where I felt at the end that I couldn't have done a single thing better.

This race is billed as the original "no frills" race - no medals, no awards, no post-race refreshments or goodies, but it doesn't matter. I head inside for a sip of water from the water fountain, and then take a minute to stretch my hamstrings, quads, and hips. I practically float back to my car - partly because I'm so happy with myself, and partly because my limbs have become strangely jellyfish-esque after being pushed so hard. It's a great feeling to call my husband and tell him that I've just accomplished a new personal best. And it's great knowing that I did that in my last race before my first half marathon, I have new confidence that I can maintain the kind of pace that I want to maintain in the half if I continue to train like I have been for the last two months.

So that's my race report. I've had good races and bad races, and this was the best kind of race - the kind that makes me remember why I decided to run races in the first place, the kind that reminds me that I can accomplish things I never dreamed possible if I just have the courage to try.