Lauren’s Race Recap

Head up, smile, flow. That’s the mantra I discovered throughout this training cycle and carried with me through the finish line in Indianapolis last week. (Rita even caught me reading these words off my pre-race index card in the elite warmup area - she liked them!).

Lauren ran 2:48:25 at the 2022 Indy Monumental Marathon, besting her previous marathon time by nearly 20 minutes.

Tavyn’s Race Recap

“How’s it goin’? Are ya flowin’?” Is what I wanted to say to Lauren around mile 10, but by that time, Lauren was in focus mode, which means no goofy conversation. I can appreciate that about Lauren, especially since I’m also an introverted racer who dodges mid-race conversation via silence & the occasional stink eye when the instigator isn’t taking the hint. Although my reasons have more to do with lack of breath while Lauren’s revolve around focus tactics, it’s a similarity we share that made running our first marathon as a duo a treat that was beneficial for both of us, despite the terrible weather conditions that morning in Indianapolis.

To really recall how a race went down, it’s important to look back at when the training cycle began, remembering the important ups and downs. Lauren & I had been building up since July- squeezing in 70+ mile weeks around our jobs, talking with Stephen about our big scary goals, and spending Saturday mornings doing long tempos that always ended with the both of us in dire need of an Epsom salt bath, a nap, and a large mushroom pizza. We’d both had spells of hesitancy and confidence, but had spent the final weeks of peak training side by side for every workout, feeling ready to push ourselves in Indy. As usual for me, the intoxication of racing begins when I step foot into the airport that will put me on a plane to the race site. It’s an adventure-taking a day off of work, navigating the airport, the flight, checking into the hotel, the first walkabout in the city, getting dinner, waking up early to force yourself to scrape down a BSR peanut butter bagel before making your way to the warm up area, and, finally, the 26.2 miles to the finish. To still be able to do it, as a 28-year old teacher, with my friends alongside me, is baffling to me & never fails to make me stop and consider how much wonder running has infused into my life over the years. By the time we’d made our way to the elite technical meeting, after getting a lay of the land (& restaurants & weird museums we wanted to scope out later), word had spread that the weather was going to be a swirling tornado of broken PR dreams. I thought, “Oh well. So perhaps a PR is off the table this weekend. But it’s the same weather for everyone out there. Just race.” I’ve learned that this is the only useful outlook when it comes to unforeseen less-than-ideal race conditions or circumstances. Years in the college field- flight delays, broken down buses, having to literally rent out a party bus, because no other transportation service is available, at 4AM & go to a planet fitness to get a run in before the flight - will do that to a person. One must go with the flow, so to speak. Lauren & I agreed on this, & as we hung out in the hotel room race eve, I could tell that she was ready to go by how carefully she organized her gels and scanned the course map. Ah, to be a new marathoner again… I had no reservations that she would execute the race with efficiency, grit, and positivity, just as she does every workout. To have that kind of person beside you during a 26.2 mile suffer fest is a valuable and rare weapon that gives you strength when you’re running low on your own reserves.

5:30 AM- my alarm goes off & it’s that time again! My body always knows when it’s race morning- it receives some secret signal that commands it to simply reject sleepiness, constantly be in repressed hyperactive miniature-motion (picture an ADHD 6-year old trying to sit still in church), go to the bathroom roughly 15 times within 2 hours, and quickly find my Spotify playlist that features the most Lil Wayne & Run the Jewels. I am no runner at all if I haven’t first spent at least half an hour visualizing myself fighting off a plethora of villains to the sound of Lil Wayne serenading New Orleans. Next thing I know, Lauren & I are at the start line, and several people encourage me to simply pee myself right there at the start line so that I can avoid doing it mid-race. I gladly suffice to the request because, wow, it’s amazing what’s normal to the runner folk.

Lauren & I settled in the first few miles, reminding each other to relax & not get too eager too soon. By the time we’d made our way through 10 miles of Beaux Arts style buildings and friendly families lining the streets outside of their cheerfully colored Folk Victorian cottages, we realized that our watches were totally not accurate with pace calculations, but we were feeling on the right track & would just need to race off of feel from there. Besides, the wind was going to make this an effort-based race anyways. Lauren and I said nothing to each other, but made moves as a unit, and I sensed a smile play across her face as a little girl pointed out that we were running “so fast” as we led a small pack of strangers. Lauren also helped me manage not to verbally snap on a man as he proceeded to clip my heel, nearly tripping me, for the second time as he hung on my backside like his life depended on it. As I was about to audibly attempt to recount when I’d signed up to be this man’s wind blocker, I remembered that bad mojo is just that- bad mojo- and if I couldn’t hold it together for my own sake, I could at least do so for Lauren’s. We ditched the clown and proceeded to steadily push forward. By mile 16, I could feel that Lauren was settled into her pace & that I was a bit more eager to go, so I went. As a seasoned marathoner, I feel I’ve gained a sense of when my body can push & hold it til the end, and when to say when. There comes a point when your body is simply going to do what it’s currently doing- nothing more, nothing less- and if you don’t go for a different gear at a certain point, it’s not happening. With that being said, I tend to find my second gear later in the race, and I decided to go. In the final 6 miles, the wind either picked up drastically or we were running directly into it. Either way, my legs were up against a strong force and were feeling wobbly. Much like meditation, marathoning is so often about blocking certain types of distractions around you (pain), and focusing on other types (murals, architecture, signs, people) for inspiration. I feel like that high that many of us runners chase, that meditative state, is found in the infamous final 6 miles of a marathon specifically because of that intense, peculiar pain that suggests that you’d better take your brain somewhere other than your body. It’s why you see some people laying on the streets passed out, or crying as they cross the line. This race in particular didn’t hold a large emotional or physical significance for me, as a PR was off the table and it was meant to be a fitness marker, but every marathon ends up being significant by default simply because of what you’re willing yourself to do. Over the course of the final 6 miles, I managed to pick off enough women to get 10th place (according to the spectator that had told me that mile 16 that I was in 20th place). As it turns out, the spectator was off with her counting, & I’d actually placed 12th. Even so, the information from the crowd helped spark a desire to start a game of catch, and that always helps. While my time was 2:46:18, roughly 3 minutes slower than my PR, I was happy with my racing considering the weather conditions. Indy gave me a plethora of things to consider for next time- keeping better track of splits, taking gels more evenly, figuring out how to feel less fatigue in the last quarter of the race- all things that I can talk over with Stephen and bring into the training cycle leading up to the next marathon. So, I’ll categorize Indy 2022 as the windiest rust-buster I’ve ever had, the race where I realized how valuable Lauren can be to me as a racing partner, and the only race where I’ve gotten adrenaline straight to the heart from spotting a 38- foot tall Kurt Vonnegut mural.

“To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it.”

- Kurt Vonnegut