“Hi, Jeff, It’s Me, Your Central Governor”: The 2012 Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon Race Report

Dan, Me and Otter, post-race. 12 beers consumed among us (though one of us was responsible for 8 of those on his own).

As my summer of ultras comes to a close (but not definitely… yet), I begin to turn my attention back to what made me such a running fanatic in the first place: RUNNING FAST.

There is just something immensely rewarding about moving my body as fast as it will go, powered on its own, that hypnotizes me, calls me, begs for me to do it.  Even though it hurts.

My ultimate “things-I-must-do-before-I-die” goal is to run a sub-3 hour marathon.  My current personal best is 3:15 and my first valid attempt at cracking three will be this coming January, again in Houston.  While I know the chances of me pulling off such a feat in such a short amount of time are almost as insane as they seem impossible, I figure the bar is better set high than not high enough.

Challenge is good.  Besides, I keep surprising myself with what I’m able to do, on any given day, so I might as well keep crawling deeper into the caverns of my mind to slay every last dragon of doubt.

DIE, BITCHES!!!

Enter the Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon in Batavia, IL.  I ran this race last year and had a blast, so I made sure to sign up again.  This time I would be joined by two new friends: Dan Solera, who is just past the halfway point in running 50 half marathons in 50 states; and Dan “Otter” Otto, who impressed the hell out of me by downing six Old Style heavies WHILE RUNNING a sub-2 hour race at Batavia (more on this a bit later).

Pre-Race 4 a.m.

I’m up before the alarm.  I went to bed at 9:30 last night, so I wake up feeling fully charged.  Ready to rock.  I sip a half a cup of coffee, eat a banana and some toast with jelly before checking the weather report.  It’ s already 72 degrees, so I slap on my 1:30 pace bracelet knowing it’s pretty much a given that I won’t be hitting these splits today.  But I’m wearing it anyway because I think a PR is definitely possible.  I haven’t run too many half marathons; and I’ve never trained to peak for one, so I enter Batavia with a 1:34 best, confident that, as Ice Cube reminds me via my laptop, today always has the potential to be a good day.

5 a.m. and I swing by to pick up Dan and Otter.  We are leaving Chicago, on the highway by 5:20 a.m.  All is well.  There’s something comforting about company just prior to a race.  It lessens the nerves, distracts the mind from busying itself with senseless worry.  I enjoy the conversation, especially as I learn Otter’s race plan to carry a pack with six Old Styles stowed, with the goal of downing them all prior to the finish.

Holla!

6:30 a.m. and I’m jogging my warm-up.  Holy Nikes!  I bump into a friend of mine from high school whom I haven’t seen since the late 90s!  It’s so cool to see her!  We make plans to meet up at the finish and I go on my merry way, feeling out the legs, wondering Do I have it today?

Early signs point to… probably not.

6:55 a.m. I enter the chute and stand next to Dan towards the front.  We fist bump, the horn blows and I… am… ruuuuuuunnnnnnnniiiiiiinnnnnng!!!

Miles 1-6

This is just four 5Ks and a jog, Jeff, I tell myself. Run four decent 22ish 5Ks and you’re good.

Thanks, me!  I appreciate that!

I also appreciate the course.  Though the beginning has changed a bit from last year (they got rid of the big hill at the start), I am still impressed with how quiet and quaint this little town of Batavia is.  Its river-centric, historic downtown and sprawling neighborhoods with lots of green reminds me of my hometown of Quincy; and the people who are standing out on their lawns at 7 a.m., though not in great numbers, are especially awesome in my book.

Thanks for coming out, everybody! I yell with a smile. I like your town! It reminds me of home!

And boom!  Just like that I look down to see I’ve come through the first 5K mark in 20:44.  Not too shabby.  The 1:30 pace group is about 3o yards ahead of me, running ahead of schedule, but already I can tell that today will not be a 1:30 day for me.  I’m totally cool with it though because I feel fine right now and know that holding on to 7-minute pace will be more than enough for me to consider this a solid performance.  It’s warm.  The sun is blaring down on me at certain points along the course.  But I feel fine.  My legs are moving in a rhythm that seems sustainable.

I hit the big downhill section just before the 6-mile mark, build speed then bang a hard left onto the bike path that runs alongside the Fox River.  Ah yes, this is where I built momentum last year, I recall. Time to push it a little bit.

Vroom!!!

Miles 6-10

Covered by the abundant shade, this sudden injection of conscious speed should be sustainable… except that, well, it isn’t.  Around the 7-mile mark, the voice of fatigue makes a home between my ears.  I take a GU and down some liquids, hoping to shut its ugly face, but alas, here it is, still talking shit.

Okay, dude, you can chill out now, you’re not going to PR so… yeah. It’s too hot. You haven’t been speed training. You can’t even see the 1:30 pace group anymore.

I run harder to shut him up.

Oh, so you think you can shut me up, Jeff? You know who I am, right? I’m your central governor and I make the decisions around here. Just try to get anything past me.

I push.  I push again.  Yikes!  Pull back.

Haha! See. Told ya. I, am, the master.

I look at my Garmin, which tells me I just ran mile 9 in 7:29, a number I don’t like right now.  Who’s the boss of who?  I decide it’s time to stand up to Mr. Central Governor.

I am the boss of me, Central Governor. Not you. Not anyone. Just me! And look! I’m almost done!

Miles 10-13.1

Ha!  Yes, this is the beauty of the half.  Ten miles into the race and I’m almost done!  After the summer of ultras, where training runs regularly lasted 4-6 hours and races 8-10 hours, oh what a glorious feeling it is to know I am an hour and eleven minutes into a race and I’m almost done!  With so few miles to go, of course I can go faster!

So I do.  The central governor tries to stop me but I pick out a guy ahead, the guy in the green singlet, and reel him in.  Concentrate, I tell myself.  Catch that green man! 

I catch him, he speeds up to race, I go a bit faster and then I’m by him.

I pick out another.  Guy in red.  I look down at my watch and see I’m cruising at 6:40 pace — something that felt hard just 20 minutes ago seems so easy now, because I have focus.  I am here to do something.

Mile 11 and I realize it’s all downhill from here.  Literally.  The last two miles of this course are a continuous downhill.  Ideal for building speed and passing people.

I do both.

I can’t believe how good I feel right now.  Who does that central governor jerk think he is?  I’m gonna have to learn to shut him up quicker next time.  Maybe I’ll train to do just that.

Up ahead I see the big orange sign instructing runners to turn left.  I know that once I get there, I’m at mile 13, with just one tenth of a mile (the “jog”) to go.  A quick glance at my watch informs me that I AM GOING TO PR TODAY, marking yet another victory over my Debbie Downer subconscious.

Eat it, Central Governor!

I turn left onto the bridge, turn right then left onto the last bridge before making the hard right turn to the finishing chute.  I blaze in with the emcee announcing my name, across the line at 1:32:37.

Ice Cube was right.  Today was a good day.

Post Race

There’s something uniquely awesome about eating pizza and drinking Sam Adams before 9 in the morning, so I take full advantage of that as I meet up with Dan, whom I learn had me in his sights for the first half of the race before trailing off a bit.  He still finished with a solid 1:36 and was smiling at the end so all signs point to GREAT JOB!

We both look out for Otter, wondering if Dan might get the call from the county jail that he’s been picked up for public intoxication WHILE RUNNING A HALF MARATHON.  Luckily, Otter’s drinking on the run made him a race favorite, a point the emcee even brings up as Otter chugs his final beer, crossing the finish line in under two hours.

I am extremely impressed.

High fives are had.

– – –

The Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon proved again to be a great event.  It’s just small enough that it doesn’t feel crowded and big enough to feel like each runner’s needs are being met.  From the big downhill after mile 5 all the way to the finish I think the course is just fantastic.  The aid stations were a bit small for my liking, but the volunteers more than made up for that and everyone out there was extremely positive and energetic.  Also, just like last year, the hardware doubles as a bottle opener, which may be the running gods’ way of telling me that, indeed, beer and running do make a beautiful couple.