PMB Comes Up Short

Pietermaritzburg isn’t the nicest of towns and I wasn’t lodging in the most up market of neighborhoods. You want a challenge? Try to eat well in a poor neighborhood. Go on, next time you head to a major sporting event, turn down a street into the ghetto and try to find a meal without sugar, loaded in fat, and bouncing with cholesterol. It could be a task on the Amazing Race. I came away with a chicken lasagna that was actually pretty decent. But not before I swung into the grocery store to pick up some food and drink. This place was slammed with 20 checkout lanes stocked 15-20 people deep. In this sea of humanity, I was the only white person in there. It was very sobering to see such a large amount of people, many of whom don’t make much money, all fighting for food. It smelled like a gym bag and spilled milk and other liquids coated the floor. The whites of eyes were dyed yellow with malaria, each cough shouted tuberculosis, and the silent killer of HIV shopped. It was odd, but you know how from time to time you will get to the check out and you see an odd item discarded there? Here there were hundreds of items stacked on the floor and in baskets. I found it odd to see many of the items. Like do you really get up to the front and say, “I don’t really want this 2 liter of Coke, or these shrimp, or that 6-pack of yogurt?” Could people not afford them and discarded them at the last second, another dream dashed?

So you know by reading the previous posts that I haven’t been in good shape the last few weeks. Why not roll the dice? I grabbed some naan and chicken curry from the Indian place next door which I would never normally do, but there weren’t a whole lot of fine cuisine options. Finished up a season of Prison Break and concluded a day and a half of sitting on foam dorm beds. I can’t complain because I got the whole dorm to myself for about $18 and I needed the rest. Since everyone at the hostel was racing, I was up at 3:45am ready to rock. After squirting last night’s dinner a few times, I headed out. The best thing about my ghetto fabulous lodging was that it sat smack dab in the middle of the start/finish line street with a 100m walk to either. I pushed toward the start line but ended up at about 10 rows back. The START banner came down so low that anyone over 5’9” would tag it on the gun. The music started and in typical African fashion, the people started moving and grooving, seemingly oblivious to the 42k ahead. It was humid but the 5am gun and cloud cover would keep the sun away.

This course profile is billed as mostly uphill first half (per loop) and mostly downhill second, which it was. The problem was that it is horribly deceiving as the profile is smooth but the course is not. There were some monster hills in the second part of the course that just made it impossible to take full advantage of the long downhills. Still, the course was a perfect mirror to my weekly club runs – uphill first half, downhill second with some stingers in there. I was prepared.

You know what is interesting? In South Africa, they hand out sachets of water and Powerade instead of cups. So there are all these plastic baggies all over the road. On the plus side, they don’t spill when you grab them from volunteers and these kind folk don’t get soaked. You do, however, when you have to tear them open with your teeth mid stride. Even more interesting is the large amount of runners who grab these and don’t drink them right away. Instead, they carry them for 2+ kilometers and drink them just before the next aid station. Seems unusual to me.

Planned on a 1:26 half, followed by a 1:24. Couldn’t afford to get out too fast with my recent illness and fatigue. First few K were a struggle as the pace was too slow and felt hard. Then I found a guy and we started clicking. We hammered in and I crossed in 1:26:00. Perfect. But he fading. I did some good work for the next few K but no one would go with me. There were lots of people to catch but I was alone. The hills started to hurt and by 29K I knew it would be tough. At 32K, I had to run 4:00/K plus find an extra 30 seconds in there. But the legs were tired and I just couldn’t get the time back. By 37K, I was still 30sec slow for 2:50. I was cooked. In the final 3K I gave up 2.5 minutes. I have to admit I ran like a Virginia (yep, that is the word I am using) the last K. Something happened that never does – people passed me. I think 4 crept by and I finished 54th. My time was about 2:53:10. Given my recent luck, I was thrilled to run this time, my 2nd best ever. There is a part of me disappointed not to PR and go sub 2:50, but I can, and there are other races.

Moment of Surrender

So I am accepting fate. A PR is probably not in the cards this weekend. Sometimes you just have to listen to reason. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. Sure, my mileage has been pretty low. But I have been consistent and fast – working out and getting in some faster-paced runs most weeks which is something I haven’t done in years. But it just hasn’t come together.

A few weeks ago I ran a 20 mile race. It went well – I averaged under 3:00 pace for the 20 miles. But it just didn’t seem right. I was about 7+ min/mile for the first half and then dropped down, only later to realize that I dropped only to 6:30/mile which is not even my goal race pace. That sucked. Then I came back later that week with a 5K in sub 6min/mile which is decent except I run that pace for 8K. I could say the course is hard, which it is, but still, with no jump in the legs I can’t see how this is going to happen for me.

Then I had a nasty bout with the U2 concert. A lack of better judgment derailed me for a day and when I took off for school camp a day later, I was not myself. A cold had been creeping in and although my nose wasn’t running, neither was I. I felt completely ill without the symptoms and was sleeping all the time which never seemed to be enough. I got in one run at camp, just pathetic. I set off to do 10x800 and after ½ mile of warm up on a dirt road uphill, I knew the workout wasn’t going to happen. I ran 5 miles and called it good. The next morning I got up for about 6-7 but a rash that had been spreading stopped me 2 minutes into the jog. The next day was off to work on issues at the camp. I returned for the weekend and got in 7 at a decent pace, but too much effort. Then Sunday, a week out from the race, I tried to do 10. By 3 miles I was gassed and turned to go toward home and ended up walking up the hill for 10 min. That’s right, walking. I took Monday off since there was no reason to continue this ridiculous cycle.

I am very frustrated after having been focused on this race for much of the last 6 months. I want a PR – to go under 2:50 and be that guy. But I seriously doubt I have the energy to get the pace where it needs to be (6:28/mile or about 4:00/K) nor the miles under me to maintain it for 26.2. I am curious if I will struggle from the gun or hold it and tank towards then end. Is it overtraining? Hard to imagine that I have done too much work, although when you run so very little anything could be too much. I fear something worse, that I am sick, and that scares me.