Vale La Pena

(Worth the Effort)

I’m up before 5am and, groggy-eyed, I’m jolted out of my sleep at the sight of a giant tarantula on the bathroom floor. Despite having no conscious fear of spider, this guy is big (about the size of my palm) and I’m taken aback, surprised as much by my own fear of the big fellow as I am of the fact that he’s calmly chillin’ out in the hostel shower. Luckily, the place I’m staying (El Mochilero – the backpacker) has a few other bathrooms to choose from. At least now I’m awake.

I head back up to my room, trying not to make too much pre-dawn noise, where I spend a couple hours relaxing. Part of the reason I’d picked this spot (besides the fact that I could get a private room for ~$7 per night) is the fact that it was three blocks from the starting line of today’s race, the Trujillo Half Marathon (only a half marathon in name, as the race was actually 20km, 1.1km short of the normal distance; sometimes it’s just “maraton” for anything longer than 10km). As opposed to my usual taking the bus or running several miles to the starting line, here it’s just a minute down the road.

The race is to start at 8am, so I give myself the tried and true fifty minutes and head out the door at 7:10am. I jog down past the start where people are starting to gather and out onto the beginning of the course. My legs feel okay and my stomach – which has caused me great distress in two of my last three races – seems to be settled.

I return to El Mochilero, removing my sweats and changing into my racing shoes. The warm-up was short, so I have lots of time to get oriented at the start, and I’d always rather have some extra wiggle room before a big race. In just my racing shoes, shorts, and bright-orange, race-mandated La Industria singlet, I jog out of Mochilero and arrive at the start.

Looking around, I’m surprised by how few people are here. Even after I finish my drills and we’re within fifteen minutes of the gun, there seem to be a distinct lack of the normal pre-race chaos that I’ve grown to expect. Concerned that I’ve somehow missed the start of my race (the event also featured a 10km and 6.5km race), I jog over to the start and ask the most official-looking person I can find what’s going on.

Turns out, the start of the 20km Media Maratón is not until 8:30am, rendering me 30 minutes ahead of schedule. No one’s race starts at 8am (despite that being the time listed on the website) and the 6.5 escolares (high school students) race starts at 8:15am. Okay, got it.

I decided to jog back to Mochilero to grab some water. It was getting warm and I was sweating and thirsty from already doing some drills and strides, so I grab one of the many water bottles I’d gotten as race freebies and fill it up. Jogging back, I pass a group of high school girls who shout and giggle and blatantly snap pictures with their cell phone. Crazy kids, actin’ like they’ve never seen an emaciated, shirtless gringo in short-shorts…

Back at the start, I decide not to jog anymore, but to simply walk for about ten minutes. At this point, I simply pretend like I’ve just finished my warm-up and nothing has happened. I proceed with some drills, a few strides, and then use the baño once more before heading back to the start. They say we’ve got two minutes, so I just try to defend my spot on the line and bounce and keep loose.

The 10k and 20k will be leaving at the same time, and run together for the first 3km or so. I look around, trying to get a sense of who’s who and look for someone to pace off of. Unlike my Ecuadorian races, I don’t recognize anyone, but, just from appearances, I can still get a good sense of who I’ll be up against.

There’s a count-down start and then we’re off.

I told myself that I was going to actively go out slower than my goal race-pace today. With the 10km leaving at the same time as us, I knew I would have to be actively holding back and probably be pretty far back in the first kilometer. This is just what happened and you can see it in a few photos from the start. Even 500m into the race, I’m probably in 20-30th place, with a lot of people in front of me who shouldn’t be. Still, I just relax, keeping my pace very easy and just keeping an eye on the front to see if anything real is happening.

I pass 1km in 3’18 (at least 15 seconds back from the front of the race) and it’s exactly what I’d wanted to run. I feel like I was still warming up and just maintain the pace as the silly Peruvians who had sprinted out inevitably fall behind. I’m naturally moving up and can see a pack of 10km runners (their bibs are slightly different) developing, along with about 4 or 5 half runners. I keep within 5-10 seconds of these groups and, after passing 2km in 6’33 (3’15), the 10k runners split off and I’m on my own in 5th place.

We turn around a rotary and proceed down Avenido Larco for about 2km. At some point, one of the four guys ahead of me drops off and I try to use passing him as momentum to work up to the group of three who are now leading the race. I can tell that I was making gains on them and by about the 12 minute mark, I reach their group.

I take a minute or so to relax and actually let my pace slow a bit. After a few minutes, I actually feel the pace was too slow and move to the front, with the lead press truck seeming to get a kick out of this and shouting at me.

Around this time, the course turns onto Av. America and begins a long but very gradual uphill climb between about 4 and 12km. The climb is so minimal (until one steeper hill around 10km), that I didn’t even notice it while jogging the course the days before and only saw it on the elevation map after mapping out the route online. Still, both the uphill climb and the following downhill towards the finish seemed to have an effect on the pace, as seen by the big negative split in the second 10km.

I’m leading the group as we passed 5km in 16’00, the three of them tucked into a line behind me. There’s a slight headwind at this point, but nothing significant. We’re running faster now (3’06-09/km the last 3k) and I’m still feeling incredibly good and relaxed. Sometime in the 6th km, the threesome picks up the pace and, knowing that I’m already running quite fast, I let them go.

For the next few kilometers, the three of them remain only about 10 seconds in front of me. We’re running about the same pace, but I don’t want to make a big surge and waste the energy to catch up. I’m running very evenly (~3’10/km or 5’05 per mile) and feel fine running alone. I pass 8km (5 miles) in 25’25 (1’07’01 predicted pace) and I’m feeling very confident.

Just after 8km, a second lead/support car pulls between me and the threesome and suddenly I’ve lost contact. Annoyed, I try to signal to the car to move, but they can’t/don’t. We run like this for about 2km until just before 10km (31’45, 15’45 second 5km and predicted time 1’06’59) where I can see that they are now over 100m in front of me, about 20 seconds.

At least I can see them now, and I know from running the course that we have the one real hill coming up at around 10.5km. I commit then that I’ll use this big hill to push and try to make up some ground. Sure enough, as the hill comes, I can see the gap getting smaller. I try to use Quenton Cassidy’s imagery of attaching a fishing line to the back of their group and reeling myself into them, slowly but unrelentingly.

It seems to work, by the top of the hill I’m within 12 seconds of them and still moving up. My pace hasn’t slowed on the climb (still around 3’09/km) and I’m feeling tired from working but still have plenty left. Running hard uphill is one of the areas where I notice the biggest difference in coming down from altitude, so I know I’ll recover well on the descent.

As we crest the hill and begin to move down, I feel like I’m absolutely flying. I’m using gravity and just cruising, both recovering from the tough climb and continuing to chip away at the gap to the leaders. At this point, I feel very confident that I can catch the group and even pass them and win this race. I am invincible.

Near the bottom of the hill, we pass 15km in 47’05 (15’25 third 5k, 1’06’13 predicted finish). At this point, I know I’m doing something pretty cool, as I start to extrapolate out. I didn’t realize that I’d been running under 5-minute-per-mile pace for the last 5km, but it wasn’t surprising given the big boost I got from chasing the pack downhill (my 13th km was 2’58). I start doing the math in my head and realize that not only am I on pace for a big PR, but I could even think about going under 1’06.

At the bottom of the hill, we turn right back onto Av. America and I’m within 8 seconds of the front. We pass 16km (about 10 miles) in 50’07 and the gap is no longer shrinking. The hot pace and the lack of the steeper downhill grade is making it seemingly impossible to reel them in. In retrospect, I was accelerating (running more like 3’02-3’06 between 13 and 20km), but they were matching me and eventually accelerating more.

In that last 4km, from 16km to the end, I keep pushing but I just can’t close the gap. I think of the stamina work I’ve done, the 140+ mile weeks, the 25 mile fast long runs, all those breathless intervals at 9,400 ft above sea level; I think about my family and friends who have supported me to get here; I think about the STRIVE Center and the kids in Pisaq who I can help by donating the money I can win. I push on and push on. Vale la pena, I tell myself. It’s worth the struggle.

But it’s not quite enough. These guys are too good. The gap is getting bigger now and by the time we get to 18km (just over a mile to go), they’ve increased the gap to the point that –barring something catastrophic happening to one of them – I know they’re out of reach.

And so instead, I focus on my own race. I’m alone now and running through the back of 10k (which we’ve met up with again, having the same finish line). I try to use each person to give me momentum, using the energy of going by them to push me forward more. At 19km, I know I have more left and after about a minute and a half, I start to sprint. Thinking of the all the intervals I’d done to practice closing, I make that gear change and I’m up on my toes and driving forward, the lactic acid suddenly building up at a tremendous rate as my pace quickens and quickens. I see the giant mall that marks the finish line and I’m running all out. A sharp right turn up a small hill and I can see the finish line now. 100m. 80m. There’s a big crowd of cameramen and spectators just across the line. 30m, 20m. I see the clock and I can hardly believe it.

I cross the line and I’m on the ground. The people are helping me up but it feels good to sit down and not be running anymore. To stop. I thank them and walk over and get some water, promptly pouring it all over my head. I realize that my bib has smeared black and blue ink all over me from where I sharpied the STRIVE name onto it and I take it off, wiping the ink from my skin. It’s over. And it was all worth it.

Rocking the bright orange “La Industria” Jersey. My attempts to add the STRIVE logo ended up smeared all over my arms and chest.

Before each race, I try to give myself concrete expectations. I often find that my disappointments come from when I don’t have a clear understanding of what I was expecting of myself, so I like to think beforehand and try to give a letter grade to certain possible outcomes. Before today’s race, I had said that anything under 1’10 would be an A- day, under 1’09 would be an A day, under 1’08 would be an A+ day, and any PR (sub 1’07’03) would be an A++ day. It’s not normal that I hit my A++ days, but I think I also went into this race with pretty low expectations, given my uncertainty of how much better I would feel given the descent to sea level and taper in mileage and intensity of training.

How good was this performance? According to the Purdy Point System, a 1’02’13 20km is equivalent to a 14’09 5k, 29’40 10k, and 2’18’25 marathon. The pack of three guys in front of me (who ended up finishing about 30 seconds ahead) were composed of two 1’03-1’04 half marathoners and Miguel Almallchi, a 2’11 marathoner. Finishing within 30 seconds of guys this good gives me a great deal of confidence going forward.

So, what’s next? I’ve got a 12km race scheduled for this coming Sunday (11/11) which is at altitude in Alausi, Ecuador. Given the monstrous effort today, I may or may not run this all out. My friend’s family is organizing the race, though, so I’ll certainly go and run it either way. After that, I’ll be running a flat 10k at sea level in Lima where I’ll make a bid at going under 30 minutes for the first time. Finally, I’ve got my 5-minute-mile fundraiser on Thanksgiving, where (following this weekend), I’ll be looking to run at least 13.1 miles! Then, it’ll be a couple weeks of rest before beginning a buildup towards the Spring!

I’ve got a lot to look forward to over the next few weeks. I’m so thankful for all of the love and support I’ve received. I’ll do my best to keep making it worthwhile.