Yesterday I ran a race. This is nothing new. I've run lots of races and I plan on running many more. This one was different, though. It was called the Laps of Reason ('e' left off intentionally). It was a three hour lap race on a beautiful rail/trail conversion in Danville, PA. Each lap was 4k (about 2.5 miles) and it ran similar to cyclocross where we were to finish as many laps as we could in 3 hours. I went into the race without a lot of distance preparation. I ran a half-marathon in May, but since then haven't done any runs longer than 7.5 miles. Based on my few longer runs this fall (school really gets in the way of training), I figured I could handle 10 minute miles for the duration and get 7 laps (17.5 miles). I was right, but my first four laps (10 miles) were run in 90 minutes, averaging 9:00/mile. I actually finished a half-marathon distance faster than I did when I trained for it in May.
Of course, at this point, I started thinking, "I could do 8 laps for 20 miles." Let's put this in perspective. I once ran a marathon, but it has an asterisk next to it. I made it 17 miles before ever so gently pulling hamstring and quad muscles in the same leg. Being the culminating activity for a marathon class my senior year of college and I had to finish to remove an incomplete from my record, I walked the last nine miles to finish in just under the cut-off time to be listed in the official results. So even though I finished a marathon, I didn't run it and the 17 miles I did run were the farthest I had ever run. In the intervening 14 years, I've only had a handful of runs over 10 miles. But I felt great and the pace seemed easy and my body wasn't telling me anything different.
Fast forward half a lap and my body found it's voice. My mile times were still ok, but I was thinking of stopping (one of the neat aspects of the race - run as long as you want; then stop). I made it through lap five and then lap six hit me. The miles finishing lap five and starting lap six dropped to 11.5 and 10.5 minutes each. I recovered in anticipation of lap seven and made it through. As I finished lap seven, I saw the clock: 12 minutes remained. I groaned. As long as you start a lap before time ends, it counts. I stopped to get my bracelet for finishing a lap and drank some Gatorade. I had run 17.5 miles and still had time to do 2.5 more. I couldn't stop. My body sure wanted to. For the first seven laps, I averaged 9:30/mile. The last lap averaged 11:56/mile, but I did it. I ran 20 miles
Right now I hurt. My knees hurt. My hips hurt. My shoulders even hurt. But I ran 20 miles in just over three hours. Six more and I've got a marathon...
As far as that "extra hour" from leaving daylight savings. It doesn't exist. If you have kids, you know exactly what I mean.
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