Extra LSR: My First Race.

How I trained for my first race.

Full disclosure: I’m not a natural runner. I’m not someone who goes for a run to relieve stress, or whose preferred method of exercise is a good long run. My previous approach was, “I’ll run when I’m being chased, thanks.”

My boyfriend, on the other hand, is naturally gifted at running. Dave doesn’t have to train for marathons (this is not hyperbole) and he doesn’t flinch at logging an 8-10 mile trail run on rocky ground with elevation. We have polar opposite fitness approaches: he loves challenge, pain, and pushing himself to the limit. The tougher, the better. The more insane, the longer, the grittier– bring it, he’ll show up with bells on. I do not like to sweat, particularly. I’ll do it, of course, and if it happens naturally as part of a game, I’m fine. But I have things like extending blowouts to think about, people. I can’t be bothered with washing this mane every day! I love a workout that gets my heart rate up and burns calories, but in a temperature-controlled environment (air conditioning or you can piss off) for a finite period of time (like an hour or less, please). I’m willing to put in the work, yes, but I’m not going to work out for hours on end.

This sets up a nice dichotomy: Dave routinely signs up for local races, and I routinely sleep in while he goes and runs them. However, this year he prodded (bribed?) and was able to convince me to run the Westport St. Patrick’s Day Run. “It’s only 4 miles– you can run 4 miles, I know you can,” he said. “I’ll run the whole thing with you, at whatever pace you want.” (How about a crawl…?)

For whatever reason, it seemed like something achievable. I had joined my boyfriend spontaneously on a few short neighborhood jogs over the past few months, mostly out of the need to get a workout in and the promise of rosé after. Surprisingly, I hadn’t died. The runs were all under 2 miles, over mostly-flat sidewalk-laden ground, and my pace was borderline geriatric. But, still– I had survived. And that gave me whatever confidence to agree to this 4-mile situation.

The race was on March 10th; I signed up the weekend of February 3rd. This gave me right around 5 weeks to train. You’re probably rolling your eyes at this if you’re a runner because 4 miles isn’t much. But you’re a runner. Before this, I had about 8 miles under my belt as a lifetime total, and never more than 2 miles at a time. Also, I like to be overly prepared for things; I like to get A’s. So I wanted to crush this race– not in time, per se, but in being able to complete it on my own terms, no problem, no biggie.

I should probably list what I was already doing as part of my fitness regimen, outside of race training:

• 1-2 spin classes a week
• 3 resistance workouts a week via the BBG program (so a 30- minute circuit workout each for legs, full body, and then arms + abs)

Not exactly a couch-to-5k situation; I already had some cardiac ability and endurance from spin. Dave suggested I run twice a week in order to feel totally prepared for the race. Nothing major, anywhere between 2-3 miles, with maybe one full-length 4-mile run a week or so out from race day.

I needed to log an extra cardio session as part of the BBG program anyway, so adding a run dovetailed nicely with that larger program. Here’s how my running schedule looked:

• Week 1: two runs; one at 1 mile and one at 1.5 miles
• Week 2: two runs; each at 2 miles
• Week 3: two runs; one at 2.5 miles and one at 3 miles
• Week 4: two runs; one at 3 miles and one at 4 miles (mega slow, mind you)
• Week 5 (race week): two runs; one at 3 miles and one at 2.75 miles

I would typically run on Tuesday or Wednesday, and then one day over the weekend. The full fitness schedule was a variation of the following:

• Monday: spin
• Tuesday: run
• Wednesday: BBG (full body)
• Thursday: Spin + BBG (arms + abs)
• Friday: BBG (legs)
• Saturday: run
• Sunday: rest

The morning of the race was cloudy and windy with temperatures in the mid-40s. Not great patio weather, mind you, but that’s actually decent running weather. (Which, I’ve learned, is a thing.) I hadn’t eaten before we left the house (meaning I was in a fasted state), and so we grabbed some donut holes at Beer Kitchen and split ’em between our little race group (which consisted of the guys Dave works + runs with, and then me, The One Who Doesn’t Normally Run). A big breakfast would’ve been a rookie move; you don’t want something heavy on your stomach during a race. You just need something light that’ll burn off quickly and fuel the run. (Also, 4 miles isn’t so long of a race you need to worry about in-race fuel.)

We slotted into the crowd a few minutes before start time. Everyone was decked out in Irish kelly green– there were tutus, four leaf clover-printed suits, and lots of green beads. (I was focused on light layers to stay warm but not too warm, so a palm-printed Adidas sweatshirt was my compromise.) National Anthem, check. Pre-race pep-talk from someone on a mic, check. Then suddenly, the crowd was inching forward. You could see runners picking up the pace up ahead, but it wasn’t until we crossed the start that we broke into a jog. Headphones on, Spotify queued up, Garmin activity started. (I was getting credit for those miles and calories, thanks very much.)

As promised, Dave ran alongside me the entire race– which was not only comforting, but a sacrifice considering his pace is surprisingly not in the 12’s, as is my preferred speed. I pushed it a bit at the beginning, slowing when I realized we were cruising at about a 10: 55-mile pace and I didn’t know how sustainable that was for me. Again, my goal was not time. I could not have cared less who passed me (old people, dudes pushing strollers full of toddlers), I just wanted to finish and finish feeling good. Not wheezing and side-stitched within an inch of my life.

At some point around mile 2, I decided I didn’t like running in the road with all the other people. (One of my main beefs with races is that other people run them with you. Like ugh, give me space.) Because it was a run/walk race and we weren’t exactly amongst the throngs of elite Mega Runners (sorry, babe), there was a lot of traffic– people cutting in front, only to stop to walk a few feet later, people looped together as part of a centipede group (how is that even fun…?), etc. This made it difficult to get into a running rhythm, which is essential. To the sidewalks we went! Running on the sidewalk (race adjacent, but still on the course) made it so much easier. Plus that’s where I trained– on the sidewalks of my neighborhood– so it felt a bit like home? Dumb, but when you’re on mile 2 and you know you’re only halfway there, having a little familiarity helps. Running surface muscle memory.

The sun came out on mile 3, and suddenly I realized I was almost done. Only a mile left. I could do that. (Which was a stunning thought coming from someone who picketed the single-mile tryout component of volleyball in high school.) My pace was good: a bit quicker than my usual 12-and-change, but nothing strenuous. I focused on my foot strike (you want to hit with the ball of your foot first, not the heel– essentially, running a bit on your toes), my breathing (deep!), and my alignment (slighting forward without putting too much stress on the knees). A little Drake via Spotify helped, too.

The last quarter mile brought us back around to Westport, where the main street was lined with Irish flags and cheering race-watchers. We sprinted a bit to empty those tanks, and I crossed the finish line at 47:36 (an 11:45-mile pace).

I have to admit, I was pretty proud of myself. There was a definite runner’s high situation happening, and it was quite gratifying to complete something I thought I would never be able to do. Dave’s encouragment– both during my training and the race proper– was amazing. His quiet confidence in me was so reassuring and helped ease those pre-race nerves. It’s really remarkable to have someone believe in you– and also support you when taking on something new and scary (even if it’s just a silly fun-run race).

I was ready to celebrate– and I had definitely earned myself a beer. Guinness was my drink of choice; I couldn’t resist jumping on that St. Patty’s bandwagon. I also needed food– those tiny donut holes I had popped pre-race were long gone, and my stomach was growling. Chicken tenders and fries, thank you! Dave and I met up with the other guys from his race group, and we ended up doing a little bar hopping (complete with Irish Car Bombs, as you do). Westport was packed with racers and people wandering out to celebrate the sunshine and warmish weather, so the mood was ripe for a solid Saturday of revelry.

My first race is done and dusted– but will I run another? I don’t know; I certainly don’t have anything on the docket in the near future. I could definitely tackle something in the 4-6 mile range, with enough time to prep and train. (Apparently, you can’t run a single race and be in race shape for the rest of your life– a fact I find really rude.) Depending on the terrain (this race was mostly flat) and the weather (cool, perfect for easy running), I might consider it. Definitely not ruling it out, though, which is something I never thought I would say even 6 months ago.

Linking up with Elegantly Dressed and Stylish, I Do DeClaire, Straight A Style + On the Daily Express, Get Your Pretty On, Rosy Outlook + Seeking Sunshine, Pumps and Push Ups, and The Pleated Poppy.