Schoorl Half Marathon Race Report

Every great adventure starts as an idea. This was no different. Last fall, I had received an invitation to this race (that is, an advertisement), and was intrigued by the beauty of the course. Schoorl is a seaside community in northern Holland. The course runs through the town and out into the dunes and woods near the North Sea. They offer various distances: 10 km, half marathon, and 30 km. And the race has the reputation of being “spicy.”


Fresh with the enthusiasm that follows your first race, my friend Christel suggested we register for the half marathon distance. As I have been teaching Christel how to run, I set up a training plan for us, with our runs on Sundays runs getting longer and longer.


A February race is tough. A February half marathon is even tougher. The weather in January was cold and wet and unattractive. After a 10K race in Zandvoort in early January, we missed a couple of our first planned longer distance runs. Christel decided not to run the half marathon and switched her registration to the 10K. This was going to be my fifth half marathon and I wobbled whether to do the distance even though I hadn’t run long in training. I really don't like not starting once I've registered. But on Sunday mornings, I had been content to run the distances within Christel’s capacity rather than the traditional long runs that form part of training for a Half.


By the time my bib arrived in the mail, it was too late to change to the shorter race. Just as well. I did fine. I can't decide if the pain that I'm in right now for not having trained sufficiently outweighs the benefits of skipping all those long runs leading up to the start.  As it turned out, Christel decided to go skating with her family instead of race.  I enjoyed spending the day alone with my thoughts and the run.


What I could've done differently: drink more water the day before. Just like I was complacent about training, I didn’t get too worked up the day before and drink water like a fiend. As a result I felt a little dehydrated on the course.


Running in cold weather is difficult because, although my body is sweating, I generally don't feel like drinking cold water when it’s cold. I also think I relaxed a little too much on my food choices to increase my calorie and carbohydrate intake leading up to the race. Next time, I'll stay on the straight and narrow. Or not.


What worked really well: the night before the race, I gathered everything I wanted to wear and put it in a bag. Wool ski socks, my racing flats, my thermal running tights, compression underwear, compression undershirt, thermal shirt, long-sleeved running shirt, running shell, running gloves, wool neck gator, running hat, lanolin-based skin cream to protect against cold weather, lip balm, heart rate monitor strap, fully charged GPS watch with race plan installed and double-checked, identification, ATM card, train pass, cash, race bib, race strap, Gu Gel, iPod, charged and loaded with a great play list, interval timer, disposable plastic bag cut like a warm-up coat, and pink anti-cancer ribbon.

I made the pink anti-cancer ribbon to remember Lynn, a woman I “met” through an internet fitness forum, She died last week of lung cancer at the age of 44. She enjoyed running until sidelined by plantar fasciitis that never seemed to heal. That probably signaled the beginning of the end. News of her death got me thinking about her attention to her health and fitness, and her effort to maintain a healthy body weight. She was a fitness instructor who enjoyed teaching. She was also a wife and mother. 

To be stalked by lung cancer is a tragedy that reinforces my desire to enjoy every day. Although I cannot live on the edge, acting as if today is the last day, I certainly can enjoy every run in the pleasure that I can run.


That sentiment helped me through the difficult part of the race. In the last six weeks, my longest run was about six weeks ago and only 14 km. I also sat out the last 10 days fighting a virus that put me on the couch. I approached to the race as a beautiful Sunday morning run in the snow.


This year I have selected races that I have never done before, rather than simply repeating my race calendar from the year before. It has been really enjoyable to explore new places in the Netherlands. Schoorl is about two hours north of where I live, by train. I planned my trip so that I would arrive just in time for the start. I decided not to check a bag or bring extra clothes. This way I could avoid the 20 minute walk each way, to and from  the sports hall. The bus from the train station would drop me 500 m from the start. And I did not want to spend any more time than necessary outside getting cold while waiting for the start.


I enjoyed the train ride even though it was snowing heavily. The usually green fields were blanketed in white. I saw a lone wild rabbit looking over frozen ice field. I saw scores of people ice skating in the canals. And lots of silent windmills.


The town was filled with runners excited to be warming up before the race. There was a lone Porta potty at the train station where the buses were waiting to take runners to the start. No one had used that one. That's the one I chose. I was lucky. There were lots of lines at the Porta potty’s closer to the start line.


I arrived to the starting line just right - 20 minutes early - and walked and jogged before going into the starting zone. I was wearing warm-up pants that I decided to remove just before the start. Although I was tempted to throw them away, they were too expensive. So I wrapped them around my middle and tucked them into my waistband of my racing types. So what if I looked like the Michelin man.


I had also decided at the last minute not to bring my water bottles and racing belt. My favorite belt has water bottles that leak slightly. That's not a problem in the summer, but I didn't want to carry a dripping water bottle in the snow.


Unlike several previous races, this time I ran with my iPod and play list of running music that I enjoy. I queued up my favorite inspirational pieces and off we went. For quite a bit of the train ride up, I kept thinking that I should quit and go home. That I hadn't trained well enough. Every time that negative thought came up, I told myself I have really good base training and it would be fine. The negative thought persisted for the first 3 km or so as the course wound around the town before heading out into the dunes.


A cloud had settled over the town and we were running through a frozen mist. I found my pace and matched up with some other runners who seemed to be running at my pace as well. Initially I had planned a run-walk-run strategy, but when I matched up well with this other couple, I decided just to keep running with them.


I don't know if skipping the walk breaks made it harder or easier. I always have a lot of head noise about taking a walk break when everybody else is running. Jeff Galloway says that everybody walks in a race at some point, but his runners walk in the beginning. I don’t know if skipping the early walk breaks made much difference, considering my level of training. In retrospect, maybe my initial pace was a little bit too fast for me since I really had to dig deep for the last 5 km. On the other hand the first 17 kilometers flew by quite easily, and I felt terrific. The pace music from Audiofuel was fantastic. And my “designated pacer” set an incredibly even pace that was well within my ability. It was much easier mentally just to follow the person in front of me. So that's what I did: chased the hare. The kilometers ticked by.


I had also decided to go with the water and nutrition on the course. I don't worry anymore that there won't be any for me - I'm not last anymore. It was nice to enjoy hot sweetened black tea. I made sure I drank a glass of water at each aid station. I also sucked on some orange slices. I didn't eat them because I didn't want the fiber.


Then we got to the first hill. It was a long gentle incline. I told the fellow pacing me (in Dutch) that I thought hills were only in the mind. He agreed. I kept going. His partner slowed down quite a bit. I took some walk breaks at this point, and they caught up.

The middle of the race was ecstatic for me. There's a point after about 90 minutes where I get a runner's high. I love it. Colours intensify. Everything seems better, more real. And it is. The music I was listening to intensified the experience. 
And then I got to I would guess about 17 km and knew that my legs were now running on empty. That's when I connected it with Lynn and her death. I could feel my hip flexors begin to complain. I connected with the blister forming on the ball of my right foot. I felt my quadriceps. I embraced all the sensations and imagined running for Lynn. What little I know of her convinces me that she would've run joyously in the cold snow, slipping on the ice, feeling her muscles complain, without voicing a single discomfort. One more day on earth. One more run.  What would I give if I knew this was my last day, my last run? I told my busy little brain to embrace the pain. I remembered Macca's advice that you can have a terrible day and still have a  great race. I remember the “angel” on the Rotterdam marathon course who told me at the end of 41 km to go for broke, that I could put it back together afterwards.


I kept pushing. And I kept running. I started passing people. One at a one. Then the next. Then the next. And I counted down the remaining distance at each sign posting how far we'd gone. I started to choke up with happiness when I realized there was only 2 km left. That made it hard to breathe. 
I don't remember when, but at some point I left behind the couple I had been running with as her pace faded. I thought to look for them at the finish, but I couldn't find them. Another woman I had been running with at the very end congratulated me for finishing - we ran together at the end with me encouraging her to keep going. Like me, she wants to finish at 10 K. in under an hour. It was nice to have her company while we ground out the last bit.


Coming up next I have a 10 k race every month for the next three months. And some great long bike rides. I got a deep tissue massage on my legs today. Hopefully, tomorrow, I won't be leaning on the handrails while going up and down stairs quite as much. And maybe I won't be walking like an old lady. But at least I'm walking.

sea swims

two laps and then.

North sea swims take some planning to stay safe. And just a bit of courage (or madness) to get in the water.

I look at the tide table and pick my time of day. I prefer an hour or so after slack low tide, when the tide is just starting to think about coming back in.  Then I check the wind and surf conditions.  And then look at the direction of the current by scanning the horizon for container ships at anchor.

Today it was grey, flat, windy out of the south and a bit cold. And raining slightly. I rode over to check out the conditions, with my wet suit rolled up in my back pack, ready to swim if the conditions were right. As I dressed, I kept my hoodie on to stay warm. Then it started to drizzle. As if getting wet was going to be a problem.  I coaxed myself into the water by saying I could get out if I wanted, I could swim as short as I wanted, and so on.

Getting into the water is always a bit of a shock, so I let myself warm up slowly, not putting my face in until the rest of my body has adapted.  The first couple times of getting my face wet bring a bit of a choking reflex because the water is cold. I adjusted and got swimming.  I needed to swim out away from shore to get past a secondary surf line that breaks on a sand bar. It's a bit strange to be a couple hundred metres off shore and still be able to put my feet down on the sand.  Sighting is a bit of a challenge since no matter which direction I swim, a combination of the current and wave action orients me towards shore.

I brought the tempo trainer today and tried using it to help my concentration and rhythm. I liked it. I adjusted it to a little slower (1:40) after 1:30 felt a little rushed.  The beeping helped me focus on gliding, driving the high hip down, relaxed hands, stretching long, and so on. I liked reading Swimming Outside the Box last night while soaking in the tub.  Good pointers there.

I swam about 2300 metres in two laps, getting out and walking back up the beach rather than struggling against the current. I felt tired by the end of the second lap, so got out by the cat club rather than continuing as far north as the first lap (to the nudist club).  That felt right. I didn't time myself or try to go fast. Instead, I focused on my strokes, trying to string together a relaxing sequence of good technique.

Now I'm going to get warm and fed and watch some bike racing. Then ride a bit on the trainer probably, since the drizzle has turned into a storm.

I decided against riding with Jeff's mates this morning since likely I would have pushed myself too hard. Not the right choice in taper week.  Eight days and counting.

Beach Challenge - 2011

Because Antwerp 70.3 is so close, this year I chose to do a team triathlon and do the swim.  I had a great time. I was afraid for only the first 10 minutes when I kept getting waves dumping on my head. The sea was really steep. 

On the second lap (yes, swim 750 km, get out, run back, swim another 750 km and run all the way back and to the transition zone), the waves swept me and a group of swimmers past the first buoy and it took forever to swim against the current and get around it. But I did.

I'm starting to the left of the masses. And what's with the guy standing on shore when it's time to go?

Okay. some of the gory details from yesterday. I ran 11km in the morning with the dog on the high-tide sand line with a 20k/hr wind at my back on the way out. Easy-peasy til I turned around. I had an upset stomach/digestive system while running, which is unusual, but I think I got a bad chunk of ham on the pizza last night. I didn't spit it out. Then I grabbed a quick powdered recovery shake (tried & true and doesn't upset my stomach), took a shower, packed my kit bag, and booked it down to kijkduin on the mountain bike about 5 miles south (into that head wind). 

The dunes I rode through were beautiful and full of yellow flowers (mallow, I think). I needed to be there by 3pm to meet up with my team "No Sweat". I'm glad I brought an ankle band for the timing chip since the guy with the chip has never done a triathlon before. Since I joined the club I now know a bunch of people and it was a friendly, warm atmosphere. Checked in. Met up with my team mates, who arrived about 3:30 p.m. Met up with the volunteer coordinator at 4 pm, got another t-shirt for being part of the crew, got my assignment for after the swim. Changed into my wetsuit and headed down the beach a 1.5 km walk - to the start. 

it was planned to be a 1.5 km swim to the south. I went into the water to warm up a little and get used to it. The current was so strong I didn't think it would be possible to swim south. Even the motor boat was having trouble with the surf to go out and set the marks. I stood around with friends and found the guy in my swim practice lane, and decided I'd try to draft him. after standing around quite a while, they announced a change of course - two laps to the north, starting back near the transition zone with a 750 m run back for the second lap, and about a km run back to the transition zone. 

 

I was kicking myself for the morning run - but really this was a training swim for me, and I needed to get a long run into my training bank account. So be it. The waves were huge. My lap-friend headed off towards the buoy. I did not think you could swim towards it and make it, with the effect of the current. I swam straight out to the left a little, starting to the left of the big group. It paid off. I was faster than last year and in with a bunch of swimmers, so much that I was having to fight for my own room. It was hard to get moving because I felt so frightened at first. There was a second line of breakers off shore that was breaking on the swim line - so I got tumbled a couple times just like what happens when you're in closer to shore. A really large group of swimmers undershot the buoy and had to swim back to it.

My stroke pace beeper was useful, but not in the way I had imagined. Somehow the setting got adjusted to way too slow. So it wasn't counting the pace for my strokes. Instead I used it as a reminder to be calm and just keep moving. I tried to get on some feet to draft but they were too slow and I passed some people. Then I got to the third buoy and turned for shore. I can't decide if it would have been faster to swim with the current to shore at an angle and run further. I tried to go straight for shore. I think it might have been faster to just go with the current.

Anyway, the run back up the beach was into the wind and my legs were really annoyed with the whole idea that they were part of this race - I kind of shuffled with a really rapid turnover and it was fine.

Then, time to go back in the water. Yikes. I cut the buoy too close and several big waves in succession carried me past it. I had to work really hard and dig deep to get back to turn around the buoy. I even had thoughts of the rescue swim I did last year, which was a hard and fast swim. I know I can swim hard, I told myself. Well, I churned it up and got past it finally after another big wave had carried me back again. (I felt like I was never going to get there.

But I finally did and then floated on my back a bit to catch my breath. Then I found another swimmer to draft, but again I was faster and she was going off course a little. Navigating with current is really tough.

Then I ran back up the beach into the transition zone. I wasn't the last yellow cap (teams) by any means. I finished in the middle of the teams. I would have been third in my age/gender group. 42 minutes. First out of the water, a 24 year old man, did it in 20 minutes.

My team mates were rock stars and I felt a little guilty for not telling them in advance that I would be in the middle of the pack. The runner placed second of the teams - an incredibly difficult 10 km in 47 minutes. Up and down several stair cases, beach sand and off-road terrain, and what not. and the biker was also a rock star - placing sixth in the teams. We finished 3:11:26 (Winner was 2:39 with a swim of 26 min.) We were 8 of 19 teams, I think.

I really enjoyed the day, and the runner was happy since he beat his office-mates, which was one of his goals for the day.

Volunteering was really great. I guided runners and got to see all these really good looking fit runners working really hard. it was exciting to see the # 1 man and # 1 woman running (they each had a bike escort in front). what athleticism. One funny thing was seeing all the men in tri-suits who had their race numbers on elastics that slipped down to their thighs (since they have no hips).

It was great to have my family there. They stayed for the swim and cheered me and got me some fried fish while I was at my volunteer post. Then they headed home. I stayed til the prizes were awarded. Had dinner there. Good catering. And again, fun to hang with my team and then friendly club mates.

And since when am I so small?

W18 Tuesday

What a great day today.  I walked the dog early and checked the surf. Looking good. Ate breakfast and gathered my courage, swam in the North Sea for at least a 1000 m. Wetsuit worked fine. Eventually I realised I wasn't that cold.  Wind was out of the north and picked up the surf quite a bit.

Afterwards I wrote about the swim  in my journal on the beach, which I enjoyed.

Then Lunch and hanging with the kids.  Then a 41 km 2.5 hr cycle into the North wind. Flew on the way back.

Now for stories for the little guy and sleep for me.

One major thought  in the North Sea - apart from don't panic - you're safe - was "if Judy can do it, so can I."  I am the luckiest person on Earth to have such a strong training partner.  I had a lot of vertigo every time I looked at the bottom. So I stopped. Swimming was more like floating while kicking.  I'll get the hang of this. Wow did I have fun.

And I crashed my bike. Not bad. Just couldn't unclip in time and tipped over, since I needed to brake to avoid a car.  Tipping was the better choice, compared to running into the car.  I'm fine. Broke the skin on my knee. But no big deal.

Onwards!