BQ by accident: How it gave me Victory and Heartache

What it meant to me

I have friends that are BQ’s.  To those not familiar with the acronym, BQ stands for Boston Qualifier.  It is the holy grail of marathon accomplishments.  I also have friends trying to BQ.  It’s the center of their training, diet, running discussions.  They train for a BQ.  Register for a BQ-friendly race.  Hire a coach to get them that BQ edge.

Through these wonderful friends – and reading a few snippets in Running Times & Runner’s World –

I had knowledge on what it would take for me to BQ: a 3:45:59 (or less) marathon. 

3:45 is a fast time for running 26.2 miles.  So much so, that I never set my sights on Boston at my age.  (BQ times vary depending on your age.  The older you are, the more time you have on the BQ clock.)  It was never something I wanted so bad, that I did what my friends were doing (the training, the diet, the coach).  My goals were less ambitious.  It doesn’t take a lot for me to be happy at the end of a marathon.  Simply finishing was great.  All I ever asked of myself was to feel better throughout the race and get a personal best (PR) in time.

Sure, I dreamed of getting a BQ.  I figured it would happen one day.  Maybe I would have to be 50 before I got the BQ.  And so that 3:45 lingered in the back of my brain, stored as knowledge and fact. 

Unplanned Victory

Then it happened.  3:41:23

I didn’t wake up thinking, “I want a BQ today.” 

Friends were telling me “You are going to PR again!”  Yet I wasn’t looking to PR either. 

My goal at the 2011 Leavenworth Marathon was to simply feel great – like I did at the previous Winthrop Marathon just 3 weeks prior – and to come in under 4 hours. 

It only took me 8 marathons to figure out how to run a marathon!  What I am saying is, the first 7 marathons I hit the “wall” and when I finally figured out my pre-race diet and on-course nutrition (and some other minor tweaks such as training and shoes), I have not seen a “wall” since.

As I heard the crowd at the finish, I looked down at my watch to see 3:40… When I saw the crowd, the finish line, and the time on my watch and finish-line clock – 3:41 – I felt victorious!  A feeling I haven’t experienced too many times in my life.  A feeling like takes you to Heaven; 100x more than a “runner’s high”; a euphoria like no other!

I PR’d like my friends and husband told me I would (and like my dream spoke to me the evening prior).  I won my age division like my friend Brad suspected.  And I BQ’d.  All unplanned.  All unsuspecting.

Victory is so sweet… 

...and fleeting.

Heartbreak Hill

There is this hill along the Boston Marathon course, which is almost a half mile climb.  I haven’t been there, but I have been told by my friends who have:  It’s a small hill in elevation gain, but painful because it’s between miles 20-21 when the marathon gets tough on the legs.  It’s called “Heartbreak Hill” because it caused one competitor who had the lead, to end up losing the race.

I can empathize with that competitor, on what heartbreak feels like.

The day after the race, I ordered my BQ gear.  By the following day, I was on the Boston Athletic Association’s website (BAA), looking where I could submit my application to run Boston.  I had heard all of these things from other runners how BAA was going to change the admission process and all these new rules.  It all sounded very complicated: something like, the faster time runners get in first, followed by the second fastest time runners, and so on.  I thought my 3:41 – much faster than 3:45 – would secure me in 2012 admission.

Alas, a BQ doesn't necessarily mean you will be standing at the start line in Hopkinton, MA.  As another blogger so lovingly tells her similar story: The results are in...It's all in a number.

As I clicked on the link to "Boston Marathon", starring back at me, "Registration for the 2012 Boston Marathon is now closed."  What?!  The year isn’t even over!  And worse, the 2012 admission has all of these new rules, called “Rolling Admission” where there are 3 levels for being admitted (first dibs, second dibs, and the “if it’s not sold out, we’ll let you in” dibs).

Basically, as of now, to get a guaranteed spot in the Boston Marathon (next entry for 2013), I will have to run a 3:20-3:29 marathon.  

                                                                                                                    

The irony

For something I really didn’t strive to do – running the Boston Marathon – I now want. 

Yet I don’t want to go down that path of putting all my eggs into one basket.  Of setting myself up for another heartbreak (so many times crying at the end of a marathon because I didn’t get xx:xx time).

Loved ones are telling me they see a 3:30 marathon in my future.  I have seen some amazing runners go from 3:32 to 3:05.  Women… Women in their 40s no less…  If they can do it, I can too.  

BQ'g once isn't the end of the road.  I can do it again.  I will just let it happen organically, like it did at the 2011 Leavenworth Marathon.

REVIEW: Brooks PureFlow

My new Brooks PureFlow arrived today... Perfect timing for a tempo run!  These babies have a 4mm heel to toe drop just like the Saucony ProGrid Kinvara, but have the cushion and ride of the Brooks Launch.

I normally go up half a size in running shoes, but found the PureFlow to fit quite big. I will be exchanging them ASAP for a half to full size down.

Though the PureFlow is practically flat like a racer, it performed more like a trainer due to the good amount of cushion on the bottom and surrounding areas. The plus size, it allows one to run natural, preventing heel strike that bulky, padded trainers can enable on some runners.

As a neutral/natural runner, I felt the PureFlow were too padded for my taste. Though I have to remember I need this more for those longer training runs. Because they weigh 7.5 ounces - meeting my weight minimum of being under 9 ounces - I will keep these as part of my rotation between Newtons, Sauconys, & Adidas.

People ask me how these compare to the Newtons and I can see they are completely two different shoes. If you like more padding between the road and you, the PureFlows have it. They perform similar to the Kinvaras in terms of speed and heel-to-toe ratio, but I feel more at my natural running in Newton's racers.

The shoes I regularly rotate:

• Newton Running all of them (Trainers, Distancia, Universal Racer, Trail)
• Saucony Kinvara
• Adidas Boston
• Brooks Launch/PureFlow. 

 The latter, Launch, I was wearing less and less, as I felt they were more shoe than I like.

Some other things about the shoe that I will mention, only because Brooks and other reviewers have highlighted - and without drawing attention to, I may not have noticed:

• Toe flex (aka split toe) ~ Allows more freedom and natural push off from the big toe. I would need to do more training runs and put some body awareness-time before I can accurately say this made a difference.
• Nav band ~ A stretchy band that goes from the arch over the top of foot. Brooks says, "..the foot receives arch support without the bulkiness of underfoot materials."

Noticeable amount of cushion for 4mm heel to toe drop. You can see the "Nav Band" running under the Brooks logo.

Back of PureFlow

Notice the Toe Flex (split toe) at the left. The mid-sole foot pods helps for natural landing.

Nav Band up close.

A much better looking shoe than the Brooks Green Silence. These have more of a feminine/good-look aesthetics that majority of female runners want. (And why I never would try the Silences)

2011 Winthrop Road Marathon

PR: 3:51:40
Overall: 36th
Division: 3rd

Leaving my last road kill (a 21k-er) in the dust. Tears of joy. (Photo: Tony Seabolt)

Tears of joy. (Photo: Tony Seabolt)

(Photo: Tony Seabolt)

Believe it. Visualize it. Think it. Become it. 

For the last two years, my marathon times were disappointing.  I am not saying that they are not respectable, as speed is all relative.  My 4:10-4:30 finishes are below the average finish time of marathoners.  For me personally, these times were way out of range.  Running friends kept telling me I should be finishing in the 3:40-3:50-ish range, based on my 21k times (1:40s).  Yet for whatever reason, I would break down at mile 22 and give it all up.

I made it a quest in 2011 to figure my shit out and to finally PR. 

So how do you know you can do better (like 20 minutes better)?  Evaluate each race; assess how I was feeling when I thought things were going well or not; what were the road blocks and are they fixable.  As someone who constantly self-analyzes and thrives for improvement, this task was easy.  The work to get the results: hard.

#1 Roadblock: Nutrition

I was taking for granted how huge an impact diet can be on race day.  My very first marathon, I coasted through without taking in any energy food.  Just some water and Cytomax.  I should have rolled in at 3:56 and rather finished 20 minutes later.  Gee I wonder why.

After the next two marathons, I was hitting the wall at unreasonable mile markers (mile 14! mile 18!) and by the time I realized I needed to take in energy, it was too late. I'd be dehydrated, and a sign of dehydration is the inability to stomach choking down any food. It made for some very miserable races and lots of tears in my husband's shoulder.

Then a blessing in disguise happened at mile 15 during the 2009 Seattle Marathon: pelvis stress fracture.  It was a blessing because my team of doctors - sports doctor, PT, dietician, MT, and CD - taught me how to stay strong and that the battle of injury prevention is ongoing: eat like an elite, cross train like an elite, weight/strength train like an elite.  Stay committed and work hard.  Results will follow.

2011 was the year to fine tune race day nutrition and gear: 

• Week leading up to race, carbo load and enjoy fiber foods. Cut out sugar.
• Two days before event, cut out high fiber foods and eat smaller meals, drink a healthy mixture of plain and electrolyte water.  Enjoy a beer the night before.
• Gel every 45 minutes; the last 10k, take 2 (mile 20-21 and mile 24).  Total 5 gels on course.
• Salt caps every hour no matter what!  On humid days, take one salt cap prior to start.  I lose a lot of salt for my size no matter the climate; nuun/cytomax/ultima on course is not enough (& no Gatorade!).
• Water only at least every 3 miles.

#2 Roadblock: Mentality

"Maybe it's mental", my friends would tell me.  If it's feedback I have heard more than once from more than one person, they are probably onto something.  My quest for mental toughness - real mental toughness - began the summer of 2011.  It was about ignoring the body's fatigue and soreness, and tuning into the body and adjusting where gait or posture gets sloppy (Am I activating my glutes? Leaning way too forward? Slapping my feet on the pavement?).

Before, I wasn't believing in myself or visualizing the athlete I want to be on the course.  For me, finishing was not enough!  And so, I changed my mentality at Winthrop: the week leading up, the day before, and at the start line.  I visualized.  I believed.  I channeled dear friends who inspired me to be greater, faster, better.  I channeled an elite athlete - Sally Meyerhoff who died tragically & unexpectedly this year - as my inspiration.  My husband was my "rabbit".

2011 was the year to HTFU:

• Start with a goal to keep pace in the 8:30s; not too fast to burn me up and not too slow to hold me back.
• Mile 20, mental game change.  Look at the remainder as a 10k and then 5k.  Don't let the exhaustion of the mind, burning of the legs, and sore back win.  These are my rivals.  Continue to strive to keep the pace in the 8:30s with worse-case scenario sub-9s.  If a hill slows me down (9s-10), make it up in the flats and downs; treat it just as I normally would on shorter distances.
  
• If the heart rate is still up and the adrenaline of racing still in existence, I am doing my best no matter what.
  
• Racing flats only!  Lose the heavy shoes.  If it's greater than 8oz, it's not going with me. 
• Visualize feeling great, visualize doing well, visualize the finish line with a powerful finish! 
• Believe in myself.  Take some inspiration along for the ride.  And find a rabbit. :))
• "Push push push!" Repeat to self until the end.

With these nutrition and mental adjustments, I overcame and the results were proven.  

Feeling on top of a mountain!

Literally.  The Winthrop Road Marathon starts in the Okanogan National Forest, at 3,300+ feet on the 30 Mile Road (the name given by locals after the tragic Thirtymile Fire that killed 4 firefighters).

A course at high elevation (high for this sea level girl), mostly downhill, with all the uphills at the last 10k.  This was either going to be a PR course or a pain course.  I choose the former!  Relentlessly positive!

(Photo: Tony Seabolt)

Thirtymile Fire memorial to the 4 lost lives (Photo: Tony Seabolt)

Start line.  Notice the burnt trees after 10 years.  (Photo: Tony Seabolt)

We were bused up to the starting line, 26 miles from the Winthrop Barn.  It was a 50 minute ride.  By the time we got off the bus, the lines formed quickly at the 6 port-a-potties.  The air was crisp and fresh.  It smelled yummy and it felt sweet.  Growth was visible after 10 years from the fire.  There were still some burnt trees standing.  I was simply in awe at the beauty of being on top of a mountain surrounded by the cycle of the forest and life.  What you can't see here were the sounds: mountain birds, animal movement amongst the brush, and the Chewuch River (pronounced chee-wuck) babbling near us; though not visible from the starting line. The river paralleled the course most of the way. If you didn't see it, you could hear it's rushed movement against the rocks.

The starting line was very casual.  Two timing mats and the race director shouting "Go!".   First 5k was on gravel with ripples carved out by the winter's snow melt and ice.  This was a challenge to run on and forgiven being it was a happy downhill.

I ran the first 10 miles mostly by myself with some passing me and me mostly passing others.  I then came up to a dear friend, Runner Theriault, around mile 11.  I was simply shocked because I knew she was speedy in the marathon and I wasn't running that fast.  I knew something was wrong and she confirmed my instincts.  At the next aid station (mile 12), she peeled off to the port-a-potty and I headed to the water table.  I asked one of the volunteers to offer Theriault a salt cap since she mentioned she was cramping already.  As much as I wanted to run with Theriault, I had to remember that today was MY RACE.  I didn't see Runner Theriault until the finish line.

By mile 15 I had caught up to the 21k walkers... by mile 16, I had caught up to the 21k runners.  This gave me great hope and confidence, because the 21k racers started two hours after the marathoners (same course, but only 13.1 miles up from the finish).  I decided it was now my goal to catch up to my husband, who was running the 21k distance.  If he was "racing", I probably would have never caught up to his 8:00-ish pace.  Only because he was out six weeks injured and communicated he was going to run/walk the course, I thought maybe, just maybe I could catch up.

And so my quest began to find my "rabbit", my husband.

Mile 16 we were out of the forest and amongst life: farms, houses, cows, ranchers, cyclists, vehicles.  For the next 4 miles, it was all a blur.  Visually, these 4 miles were unmemorable.  I remember the feeling of immediate warmth on the skin and breathing in thicker air - a sign we were no longer at 3,000 feet - and the Chewuch winds.  Yes, those winds are harsh (I have great familiarity with them being my mother-in-law lives on the Chewuch in Winthrop, and I have both ran and cycled against such head and side winds).  Mental toughness kicked in as I pushed through the head winds to keep my pace the same.  I thought positive rather than my normal whiny self (anyone who knows me really well can tell you how I LOATHE wind).  "Thank God for these winds cooling us off."

When I saw the 20 mile marker, the game plan changed.  "Just race this 10k!"  I checked in with my body and it felt great!  The usual leg soreness wasn't there.  The muscles had a tinge of burning, but nothing like I normally feel at mile 20.  Calves felt fresh.  Shoulder blades were the most sore, probably from pushing the pace, pushing through the headwinds, pushing up a couple steep hills.  Mouth was dry, but I didn't feel as dehydrated as normal.  And I was hungry.  A very good sign that electrolyte levels were normal.

At the 20 mile mark, I knew this was where the rolling hills began on the E. Chewuch.  We were heading east and that meant some heavy easterly winds.  My strategy was this: The wind is my rival, and I won't allow it to impact cadence; the hills are my rival and I won't stop and walk; I will make up for loss of time from the uphills on the flats and downs.

I was running blind (no prescription running glasses) because there was a chance of rain; I didn't want to be stuck carrying glasses.  I knew what my "rabbit" was wearing: white TriFreak tech tee, blue shorts.  I kept looking ahead and seeing men in white.  Nope, not him, pass. Nope, not him, pass.  Then at mile 21, my "rabbit" appeared.  I know his running style and as I got closer and closer, I could make out the back of his shirt "TriFreak".  I shouted "Rob!!!" and we exchanged waves.  He was walking at this point.  I told him I was at "3 hours for 21 miles!!" with a huge smile; he knew and he let me go.  This was MY RACE. 

Mile 23: Mental game change.  Just 5k to go.  This is nothing!  Checked in with my body.  Surprisingly, legs felt great until I had to climb those hills.  Powered through them, kept my head looking forward, and kept passing marathoners and 21k-ers.

Mile 24, took my last energy gel, swiped some lip balm, and looked at my watch: 3:34.  I didn't say a word to the volunteer who ran over to me with a large cup of water (thank you btw!!).  Very tired, my quads started the burning; the burning that normally starts at mile 20, wins over my pace, and kicks me mentally.  I knew now was not the time to throw in the towel.  Letting a new, huge PR go down the drain was NOT an option!  Everything was working with me during this race.  This is where you get seriously tough in the head.  Pull out every stubborn bone you can find.  Ignore the (good) pain from the body.  The faster you run, the fucking sooner you are done!!!  Get it done Nordic Moxie!  Get it done!

Mile 25 to finish was a blur.  A fantastic, wonderful blur.  It felt like I ran this mile my fastest (unfortunately I didn't have my Garmin set up for splits), because next thing I found myself on a familiar road of Old Town Winthrop running across the finish line.

My last memorable sight other than the finish clock, was a male 21k racer, in which I made it my cause to pass him in the last 50 feet stretch.  This was MY RACE.

Thank you to the following friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers who inspired, believed, supported, and encouraged me on this journey.  May I keep that fire alive in my heart on my next marathon (2011 Leavenworth Oktoberfest) and may my story inspire you as well:

• My husband
• Mom
• Sally Meyerhoff
• Shelly
• Brad
• Canadian Don
• Paige
• Bart & Laura Yasso
• Hal Higdon
• Samya
• Janna
• And so many others. You know who you are!

Finish line celebration. L to R: Rob (hubby), Me, Ginger, Runner Theriault (Janna), Heidi, Tony.  (Photo: Tony Seabolt)

Awesome race director, James Varner, of Rainshadow Running, who greeted each finisher.  (Photo: Tony Seabolt)

2011 Winthrop Road Marathon Flat Girl: Running Skirts Heartstooth skirt, Firedaughter 'Sally Meyerhoff' tank, Newton Running neutral distance racers, Run Pretty Far mesh hat, Sweaty Bands badass-ness.

Finisher goodies: Medal, Patagonia tech L/S, and handmade mug for my "finish line enthusiasm".