My First National Championship
It just turned out that I’d be in Tampa for work at the same time as the National Championship 20k in Clermont. I’d never been to Clermont, but once I looked it up on a map, I realized it was not much more than an hours drive from Tampa. It didn’t even feel like a decision — I was on board. Not only would my coach, Dave McGovern, be there, he’d be racing as well, right in the very same race. Also one of my WWGTD teammates would be racing as well. How could I possibly skip it??
I flew to Florida on Thursday, and arrived hungry and sleep deprived, at about 8:30 pm local time. Now that food isn’t allowed through security, flying is a frustratingly food-deprived experience for me. My digestive system doesn’t do well with wheat, so the pretzels and airport fare that are now my only options aren’t a very good idea, especially before a race or important job trip. It’s a lot better if I can keep my blood sugar happy, but I haven’t figured out a solution. Since I was still trying to lose some weight to make my goal for the Seattle Marathon, I figured I’d just be a little hungry and try to drink alot of water. I also brought along some peppermint tea bags. 13 hours after setting out from home, I arrived at my aunt’s trailer home in Lakeland. She realized I was starving, and fed me a baked potato with cheese and roast beef. I don’t think I can find a training plan that includes that as a meal at 10 o’clock at night, but in that moment I just didn’t care.
I’d known up front that one of the tricky parts of the race would be the timezone change, from pacific to eastern. By Sunday I’d have a few days to acclimate, but still, I’m not a morning person even in my own timezone, and the race was scheduled for 7:15 am! A friend convinced me to spring for a motel room in Clermont, so I’d get an extra hour of sleep in the morning instead of driving. Saturday night, I drove to the motel. Going through and setting out all of my race day items, I realized that all I knew about the course location was the name of a state park. I’d passed the entrance on my way to the motel, but still, where in the park was the race?? No amount of googling yielded any more specific information about the course. The fact that I was googling the race course just hours before the start was just a fact of life given how insanely busy I’d been with work in the days leading up to the trip. I finally drifted off around midnight.
Sunday morning, the timezone difference showed itself when the alarm went off at 5am. Usually before a race, some amount of adrenaline helps me jump out of bed, but not this time. I fought through a fog to sit up and finally turn on a light. As I moved around the room, I felt sluggish, as if I was wading through a thick liquid, or my brain was. No amount of training helps with trying to find your toothpaste in an unfamiliar motel room, when your body’s clock time is 2:30 a.m.! (At least I actually found the toothpaste this time — on a recent work trip I’d unfortunately put a toothbrush full of hair conditioner into my mouth after mistaking the tubes. ) Finally, I was dressed and ready to go, and I set out for Lake Louisa State Park. Either I’d see where the race start was, or I’d miss the race. I turned off at the state park entrance, and — nothing. No cars, no signs, seemingly not a soul awake besides myself. This didn’t look good. I continued through the park, along the most likely seeming road. Finally, I spotted a small sign on the right — “racewalk”! I breathed a nice deep relaxed breath, and continued on. I’d found the race! It was a bit tricky, since I had to drive along the course to reach the parking area, and athletes were warming up. I was about to reach the empty spots when I came up on Dave. As always, he had a big smile and happy words for me that made me feel welcome. Once I’d parked, I didn’t have much time. I registered, got my event t-shirt and numbers, and headed back to my car. I got some help pinning on my numbers, then did a very short warmup, interrupted by a wait on the porta potty line (there was some snafu so the regular bathrooms weren’t unlocked, so we all had to use the course porta potty). I double checked the sheet of paper I’d brought along, listing my goal pace times for the first and second thirds of the race. I didn’t know until that moment that it was a 2.5k loop, so we’d be racing 8 laps for the 20k. I’d precomputed times for both a 2k and a 2.5k loop, just to be sure. As we gathered near the starting line, I noticed someone I didn’t recognize wearing a shirt with our local club logo on it, so I went over and said hi. Right next to her was someone I *did* recognize, also from our club, who excitedly exclaimed, “Oh, if there’s three of us we can enter as a team!” The officials were nice enough to note us down as a team before the race started — I’m sure they were pretty busy at that point, but they understood I’d just arrived. Lining up at the same starting line as Dave McGovern seemed pretty surreal!
As the race started, I felt unsure of my pace. I thought I was going at a pretty good clip, but when I got to what I thought was the halfway point of the loop, I was slower than the time I had in my mind. How could that be?? Well, I was pretty tired and in a different climate, feeling a bit warm, so I figured I just wasn’t feeling it the same way, and tried to push ahead. As I approached the start/finish line, and checked the clock, I knew something was really wrong — how could I be so far behind my goal pace?? I’d chosen a pretty safe pace for the first third. Its a pretty disconcerting feeling to be racing along, suddenly feeling like your body is lying to you, and not much to be done about it. After a couple of minutes, though, it hit me in a flash — I’d memorized the 2k times!! I wasn’t going slower than goal pace at all, I was going too fast! No wonder Dave had commented “you’re really cooking!” as he’d flown past. I ratcheted back a bit, hoping my next time check would be a bit more reasonable. Just then I passed the board and saw a red card for my number. I’d only gotten a red card once before in a race, so this was somewhat unusual for me. By the next lap around, I had two. Bent Knee. This really threw me, because in the past I’d been cautioned by the judges before getting a red card, but here I was, with only one caution but two reds. Just one more red card and I’d be tossed out of the race. Bad as that was, it seemed even more awful that my team would lose as well — since we only had the minimum of three competitors, every one of us needed to finish to qualify for a team award. I felt really discouraged, trying to think of what to change, to feel what my feet and legs were doing wrong. I’d made radical changes to my shoes, adjusted my plantar fasciitis treatments, and had some problem with my posterior tib, all in the two weeks prior to the race. Plus, I hadn’t warmed up very well. Was I just screwed? Just then a teammate went by. “Stay legal, Karen!” she shouted. “Slow down and just stay in for the team!” Another friend said “Just be perfect, forget speed, just be perfect!” At that moment it seemed likely that I was about to be tossed from the race, right in front of my coach, causing my team to lose. Did it get any worse?? I still had no clear notion of what I was doing wrong. Although my pace was faster than planned, I’d legally completed 5k’s at faster paces earlier in the year, so that really shouldn’t be causing me to be DQ’d in the first 5k of this race. I forced myself to take a breath and square my shoulders. I was going to be DQ’d and there was nothing for it but to get ready to be polite and smile and suck it up. Right about then another walker came by and said “c’mon, walk with me, we’ll keep each other going.” And so I kept at it, slowing way way down, even chatting with this woman, whom I’d never met before. Each time I approached the head judge (the only judge who can DQ a walker) I steeled myself for that red paddle. I focused my thoughts on my legs and feet: plant the foot, swing the other leg, are my arms even, where are my feet? For a bit there was nothing else, just the mental checklist and the chat with the other racewalker. I imagined I was on the bike path where I often train, looking over at the geese, smiling at the passing joggers, feeling free and fast. I completed one more lap without a DQ, then another. And right then, all of a sudden, something in my right hip loosened up, and everything felt right again, simple, well-rehearsed, of *course* I’m legal. I pulled away from my companion, telling myself just to stick. No big push for me, just one foot after another. What an amazing feeling it was, crossing that finish line!! In spite of everything, I’d gotten the job done.
My time was a new PR (personal record) — I’d beaten my previous 20k time by over four minutes. I received a bronze medal, third place in my age group. Everyone in the club team finished, and we were the only women’s team, so we got a gold medal for that. The medals are big and decorated with eagles, with “national championship” engraved along the bottom. I wore them all day, as I drove down to Tampa, found my hotel, and got ready for a hard week’s work.
Western Women Go the Distance.