Race Report: Big Lake Half-Marathon

Joseph Vinciquerra | May 15th, 2007 | Posted in Reports | 83 Comments »

After a very long winter, filled to the brim with endless laps in the pool, countless miles on the bike trainer, and cold, wet, fourth-season runs through some of the harshest elements Mother Nature can throw, my 2007 race season officially began this past Saturday at the Big Lake Half-Marathon in Alton Bay, New Hampshire.

Racing a half-marathon was a completely new way for me to start my season this year. For the past three years, actually, I’ve kicked things off using the Shamrock Duathlon in Glastonbury, CT – a sprint-distance run-bike-run affair – as a means to test my legs and to gain a feel for my competition throughout New England. This year, however, with Ironman Lake Placid on the horizon, an early-season test on a long-course was something I really wanted to focus on as my first race of the year. Throughout the winter months, I spent a lot of time working on my running skills, and was really excited to try and forge an early success by setting a new PR on the half-mary course. To make this a doubly-good 2007 kickoff, my wife Liz signed herself up to race as well, making the arrival of this past weekend exciting for both of us!

Friday afternoon Liz and I made our now-regular road trip over to New Hampshire in order to pick up our race packets before the big crowds, and to drive the course to get a feel for the challenging parts. Ahhh… The course. Yes, this was a challenging one. I’ll try my best to describe it: The course starts out with a few easy rollers through the backwoods as the roads meander their way back into town and then quickly north towards Laconia. Over the first six miles or so, the grade is a steady climb up along the main highway that overlooks Lake Winnepesauke – nothing too steep, but you’re definitely climbing. Coming in at around about the halfway point, the elevation begins to drop gradually at first, and then quite steeply as runners take a hard right-hand turn down to the shoreline, essentially losing all the elevation that was fought so hard for during the first six miles. From here, it’s up and down along some of the most well-hidden roads the Lakes Area has to offer. Twists and turns, rises and descents, all the way back until – at around the ten-mile mark - the road reconvenes with that which took the runners away from town at the outset of the race. From here, it’s 5k-to-go all the way into town and across the line. If driving it was rough – and it was – then running it was sure going to be a challenge, Liz and I thought. But with a mental picture of what was to come, we both headed back to our hotel for the night, and put in a quick 30–minute jog with some intermittent pick-ups to tune the legs for Saturday’s race.

I had some big goals going into this race – another first for me. Typically I don’t place very much emphasis on the first race of the year, primarily because I know – after racing one form or another of endurance sport for the past 13 years – that it takes a while to really get settled into racing form every season. But this year had already been different in so many ways on account of Ironman, that even a season-opener “B-race” like this came with big expectations. Last year was really the first year that I paid attention to my run efforts on the long-course. At the Tupper Lake Tinman and the Timberman 70.3, I ran a 1:44:13 and a 1:48:33 half-marathon, respectively. But these were half-marathons at the end of half-Ironmans, so they were certainly slower times than I would do under pure-running conditions. In training, I’ve seen 1:45:xx pretty regularly for 13.1 miles, even a few times down near 1:40:xx, but those were long-run-pace numbers; again, slower than race pace. Perhaps the greatest indicator of where I was last year with half-marathon performance was my split time at the MHR marathon, where I clocked a strong 1:34:xx half-mary time en-route to a good overall marathon time. But having missed Boston Qualification by a scant 3 minutes last year, I was determined to work on my run this off-season, and hence, I targeted this early-season half-marathon as a goal race to PR the distance. My results here would also be instrumental in guiding my run-training from here through Ironman, and beyond to the Fall marathon season. To the point: my goals going into this race were simply to run a sub-1:32:00 half-marathon, which was derived from aiming for 7:00 min/mi pace throughout. For reference, my pace over the first half of the marathon last year, my PR before the Big Lake event, was 7:10 min/mi. If things were really “on” and I felt the flow, then running a sub-1:30:00 half-marathon at Big Lake would have been just pure candy.

Race morning came as it usually does: too early and with plenty of coffee. As counter-intuitive as it sounds, I actually found myself to be more relaxed than usual on account of knowing that Liz and I were both anxious for the start of the race; think of it as a negative times a negative equaling a positive! Whereas Liz was filled with nervous energy simply by the prospect of running her first 13.1 miles, I was jittery wondering whether or not I’d be able to do what I set out to do. But after getting checked in, lacing up the shoes, taking in some pre-race fuel, and making our way over to the start area, I gave Liz a warm hug and kiss, wished her the best (knowing already that she’d do phenomenally), and made my way to the front of the 1500+ runner field.

I was only about three quarters of the way up to the front of the pack before the gun went off (3 minutes early!), and with nary a moment to even think about collecting my nerves, I was racing towards the first mile marker. Pushing my way way past the slower runners who’d inappropriately seeded themselves so far in front, I hit the one mile mark in what seemed like a matter of seconds only to see that my first mile split was 7:10… Already 10 seconds behind schedule on account of trying to move up and pass the masses. Shortly after that, the road began to turn up, and the real filtering of slower runners began. By mile 2, I was slightly ahead of schedule, clocking in a 6:40 mile and putting me back on track. Miles 3 through 6 were mostly uphill – that long gradual climb to the near-halfway point of the course. I kept my cadence fast, and my muscles warm on the climb – working a strong pace by feel and heart rate, but running smart. I was 3 beats below LT every single time I looked at my monitor, and I felt great. I passed countless people, and with every new pass, I targeted another runner up the way to focus on. Nutrition played a big part here too, and at 30 minutes on the dot, I pounded my first gel pack and took in a quick water at a nearby aid station. The sugar flowed through my bloodstream, and my legs were as solid and strong as tree-trunks with every footstrike.

Atop the highest point of the course, I’d put it in overdrive to pass a group of runners and to take in the view all to myself. All senses, save for my sight, had momentarily ceased reporting. Looking out over the lake, with the deepest blues and the lushest greens, I was completely alone in the world for only the briefest of moments. I pushed on, now a slight downhill followed by a steep section, which is where I knew the work would begin. I entered the second half of the course ahead of schedule; I had 2–minutes on my target pace, meaning I was running near 6:40’s. At around the seven-mile mark I hit the first major roller; a long, twisting staircase that brought runners in front of me to their knees. I heard no noise other than my heart beat, and the bang and clatter that came from every competitor that I passed. I hit the nine–mile mark, and I still had my two-minute advantage.

“Can you hold this?”

“I can hold this.”

Ten miles down and the hardest climb on the course unfurled itself before me. Up into the sky and to the right before it rejoined the early part of the course. I began to slow, and like an automatic transmission, I jumped up into the next gear and laid it on. Now anaerobic, it was a matter of pushing past this pain and accepting a slight dig into my time advantage before I knew the road leveled off soon and it was all easy and fast to the finish. I downed another gel, right on schedule, and the volunteers handing out the water gave me an “atta’boy” as I flew past like a man possessed. Out onto the final stretch, with roughly 2.5 miles to go, I actually began to accelerate, drawing on those endless tempo intervals I’d worked so hard on throughout the winter. I hit the 11–mile mark, and my lap button. I still had over a minute of advantage. I was going to PR and come in under 1:32:xx – but that wasn’t enough. No. I upped my cadence just as the road started to resemble a downhill grade. I caught three more runners, and hearing them struggle for oxygen as we ran shoulder-to-shoulder for a split second was everything I needed to hold that pace. Twelve miles down and I knew I was in store for something even greater than a PR. Completely anaerobic and now running this final mile like it was a 400–meter dash, I drifted to that far off place we sometimes have to go when the body decides it’s better to send blood to the muscles rather than to the brain. I could see the finish banners, I could hear the crowds… The announcer said something about me, my race number, and the fact that I was from New York. I was from New York and about to make an incredible time. I thought to myself: “every second of off-season training sums to this moment.” Over the line, the chirp of the timing chip, and three volunteers to my aid to give me water, give me balance, and to take my timing chip from my shoe. I turned, the clock read: 1:28:25.

After the engine revved back down to idle, I hobbled over to the results to see that I’d just landed myself 24^th overall and averaged 6:45 min/mi pace over the entire 13.1 course. There was hand-slapping and kudos exchanged amongst us first-finishers, and after stretching things out to the best of my ability, I headed back to the course to welcome Liz in. At just over the two hour mark, Liz came along – down that big stretch of road that I’d completely missed in my recollection of the end-mile – running strong and looking euphoric as I shouted to her: “Thirteen point one miles baby!”. She rounded the corner and enjoyed the finishing chute as only it should ever be enjoyed; running through it. She had averaged a pace just under 10 min/mi and put in an absolutely stellar run!

 It’s two days later and I’m still glowing. My sense of motivation towards this race season burning brighter than ever. The hardest part about living and training in the Northeast is the winters, and it was a long one. I can’t tell you how many times I dozed off mid-afternoon, hours after putting in a tough winter workout, to the visions of racing in that summer-time heat. To be here, now, this weekend – and to shatter my half-marathon PR and dice it up with some of the best pure-runners in the region – that’s just better than anything I could have hoped for. Yes indeed, 2007 is under way.

Official Results

Photos here

Thank you each so much for all of the encouragement, the kind comments, and the camaraderie. But most of all, thanks for reading.