Lake Monona 20K

The Lake Monona 20K runs around Lake Monona for a total distance of 20 kilometers, or about 12.4 miles. (Duh.) Lake Monona is the second of three lakes in size and order on the Yahara River chain. It is the southern lake along with the larger Lake Mendota that form the infamous Madison isthmus, of which I live on.

I arrived at the race start and met up with my buddy/co-worker Tim. We got our packets, and then headed back to our cars to drop off our warm-up layers and hit the porta-pottie one last time. It was cool, windy and the forecasted rain was going to hold off for the rest of the day. The trick now was to figure which clothing to use to stay warm. I elected for a light long sleeve shirt with shorts, no gloves. Watching everyone warm up, I estimated that at least a third of the crowd were triathletes based on their attire, wearing of race belts/timing chip holders. I overheard several people that attendance was way up from previous years, but based on the results, that's not obvious.

After a brief delay, we started out and I immediately lost Tim. "See you at the finish line" is all I heard. I initially planned on averaging 8 min/mi for a final time around 1:40, thinking that I was going to fade after that pace for over 90 minutes.

Immediately after the start I had to pee. I thought it would fade. It didn't. I reached the first water stop on perfect pace, hoping to see anything resembling a pit stop. Alas, there were none to be found. I quickly scanned my brain for locations along the course that might provide relief, but none were close enough to consider. I guess I'll just hold it and hope that it goes away. (It didn't.)

I hit the halfway mark exactly where I intended to be. I high-fived my wife and asked if she'd gotten my elephant ear (aka a bear claw) f rom the farmer's market yet. (She was going back to get it.) Even though the wind was directly in our face right off the lake, I was feeling extremely good. So, I revised the strategy: I will continue to split 8 min/mile for the next 5K, then drop the hammer for the last 5K and see what time I could pop.

I finally was running the way I should. My Forerunner 305 helped immensely, mainly to prevent me from chasing others ahead of me. While I know I could stay with them in the short term, I haven't developed and running 'feel' yet and don't know how much to hold back so I need help. A quick glance to my wrist did the trick.

Miles 8 and 9 leading into the 15K mark were getting faster, so I let it go at that point and went all out. I popped my second Gu at the final aid station. I was a bit worried I might urp it back up, but it stayed down and really, really helped. I need to use these more often.

It was a tremendous feeling passing all those people that I let go. The urge to pee was still there and growing. I struggled between the need to hold it in versus the effort to keep running hard. With about 2 miles to go, the route passed a construction site with a fluorescent orange porta-pottie. It was ten feet away. It begged me to use it. My bladder begged me to use it. My mind said, "Finish hard or pee? Your choice." I chose to finish hard and held it in.

To help get passed the pain of premature peeing, I marked two guys ahead of me and attempted to pull them in.

"Finish. Just get to the finish."

I passed them. On the next hill they, in turn, re-passed me. I was fading.

"Finish. Just get to the finish."

I set my next target on an obvious choice: a guy wearing 80s-era spandex with a cotton shirt tucked deeply inside. The shirt was tucked so deep into his shorts, the sweat was wicking well below his ass and dripping. It looked like he was wearing a leaky diaper.

"Go get him."

I passed him in the last down hill before the finish. Damn it felt good picking of the weakest of the herd. One last pass of a female in the finish chute, and I'm done. I stopped my watch and didn't look at it. I grabbed two waters and went directly to the bathroom. Once there, I suddenly don't have to go. Figures. I have to go every five minutes for the last hour and a half and then when given the opportunity, it stops.

I stretched, wondered around a bit and ate bits of bagels waiting for Tim. I don't like the fact that chocolate chip bagels look so much like cinnamon raisin ones. I hate the taste of a chocolate chip bagel, especially when I expect sweet cinnamon and juicy raisins.

I finally got around to looking at my watch. I was excited to see 1:36:25. Good enough for 109th overall and 30th of males aged 30-39.

Tim arrived earlier than planned. His goal was to run a 10 min/mi pace. Once he saw he was at 1:03 at the halfway point, he went for the negative split and sub two-hour goal. He crossed in 1:59:58, the last under 2 hours.

Analysis
Below are two printouts of my effort:

The first one above shows my pace (blue) and heartrate (red) versus distance. Note how my heartrate and pace are relatively even for the first 8 miles of the race. Right after that I dropped the hammer and raced to the finish line.

This one shows my pace in five-kilometer sections. Note how much faster my last 5K was than the first three. Overall, I'd like to see my next race even out the last two fourths so that they are equal but even and faster than the first two fourths (half.) This is called negative splitting. It's really swell if you can do this on an effort basis, but even better if you can do it on a time basis, as well.