I just passed the 12 mile marker, a little more than 1 mile to go and I’m hurting. It feels like I’m maxing out muscle in my body to keep moving forward. But it’s only one more mile, I can’t stop now. I think back to 2021 when I ran the full marathon on this same course. I walked part of the last mile. I let the final hill beat me mentally then, I’m not going to do that now. I take a deep breath – in through my nose and out through my mouth – I let it propel me forward. Stay strong, stay relaxed, you’ve got this. I repeat words of encouragement to myself. You can do hard things. It’s only a mile, that’s nothing. You’re strong. This is nothing compared to the marathon. Actually, compared to the marathon, you feel good. Okay, push. Before I know it, I see the iconic Soldier’s and Sailor’s Memorial Arch that marks the finish line in Hartford. I’m there. Push to the finish. 

I cross the line and I open my eyes. I’m in my parent’s basement, laying on the ground with my legs up the wall, a classic runner’s recovery pose. It’s Tuesday night before the race, my Netflix show is paused on the TV above me. I’ve done the physical work, now I’m doing mental prep. 

I recently listened to Deena Kastor’s Let Your Mind Run on audio book. I’m trying out a technique she describes in the book – “visualization.” I was also encouraged by my coach to mentally prepare for when I would inevitably start to hurt. The point of visualization is to work on mental strength – how are you going to react when it gets hard? I was preparing myself to stay cool, calm, and collected throughout the race. If it got hard, my plan was to stay calm and push. 

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I spent the week leading up to the race at my parent’s house in Granby, CT, about 30 minutes outside of Hartford. It was a busy week of work which served me well, I spent most of the day at my computer and stayed off my feet, spare for a few scheduled runs to build confidence and shake out my tired legs. This was the first time I’d run a half marathon during marathon training and I didn’t get much of a taper. Still, I felt more ready than ever for this race. 

A few days out my coach sent me a race plan. The goal was to go out slow and controlled and pick it up as the race went on, targeting a 1:40:00 half marathon. Challenging, but reasonable. I’d run 1:40:30 in my last half marathon, last November, just a week after being sick with COVID. If I could do it then when I was still recovering, I could do it now. It wasn’t going to easy, but I felt confident in my fitness. My main focus was to stay cool, calm, and collected leading up to and throughout the race. The marathon will require every ounce of energy I have, so no need to waste precious energy on anxiety. Cool, calm, collected. I wanted to treat the half marathon race day like a dress rehearsal for the full. 

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Saturday morning I woke up at 5am, three hours before race start. I’d woken up earlier throughout the week so it wasn’t a shock to my body. I’d slept fairly well, a rarity the night before a race. I felt good, I felt awake. I meandered downstairs and prepared my toast and poured a cup of coffee. I was lucky enough that my mom prepared the coffee for me before I came down. So far, so good. I ate my normal pre-run breakfast of coffee and toast. One slice of PB&J toast, one with butter and cinnamon. Good, simple carbs. 

After breakfast, I put on my race outfit, which I’d laid out the night before. Once I was dressed, I did my normal pre-run warmup routine before pinning my bib and lacing up my shoes. We headed out the door around 6:30, right on schedule. My mom drove, I felt grateful to have her there, though it might not have seemed like it at the time. I was stoic, not talking much, focused on staying calm. No need to expend extra energy on conversation, we can talk after the race. I listened to Taylor Swift’s Midnights album on the drive into Hartford, letting the music and the lyrics deter me from feeling stress. 

We found parking close to Bushnell park, near the start and finish festival. I found a bench for my mom to post up at while I jogged my warm-up. I looped around the park, scouting out the area. It wasn’t too busy when we first got there, but it filled up while I jogged for the next 20 minutes. It was around 7:40 by the time I finished my warmup. Just enough time to use the port-a-potty and head over to the start. The bathroom line moved slowly, I watched the clock tick closer to the start time of 8AM. Before the marathon two years ago I’d almost been late to the start because of the bathroom line. I thought I’d have plenty of time, but the start corrals were further away than I’d thought. It was going to be the same situation this time. I stayed calm, it wasn’t worth panicking over. I knew where the start was. I could jog over quickly. Not a problem. 

And that’s what I did. By the time I made it to the bathrooms it was less than 10 minutes to the start. I got over to the start corrals as the wheelchair race was starting. 7:55. I had five minutes. I slipped into my corral, took a gel, and sipped some water. Cool, calm, collected. I didn’t have any time to get nervous. 

The gun went off, we started moving. 

I somehow got stuck in the middle of the 3:35 marathon pace group in the first mile. I didn’t want to be weaving through the crowds, expending extra energy, but they were going significantly slower than I wanted to be, so I looked around and tried to find an opening. There wasn’t one, so I had to make one. I didn’t exactly elbow through the crowd, but it wasn’t my most graceful exit. I got out of the cluster and stayed to the side, picking up the pace. I clocked 7:56 for my first mile, about 6 seconds slower than where I wanted to be. But that’s okay, the plan was to start slow, finish fast, I wasn’t so far off base. 

I picked up the pace and clocked 7:39 for my next mile. About 6 seconds faster than where I wanted to be, but I figured that was fine because I’d made up the time for the first mile. I tried to stay calm and consistent. There were a few hills in the early miles. I slowed a bit on the uphill, but let the downhill carry me. I allowed my legs to turnover quickly and the momentum increased my pace naturally. Miles 3 and 4 were fast for that reason – 7:34, and then 7:24. 

I took my first gel around the 5k mark. I usually don’t like taking gels without water, so I tried to take it just before a water stop. I thought there was one between mile 3 and 4, but I must have missed it. Oh well, stay calm, it’ll be fine. And it was, I took Nuun and water at the next station and I was fine. I kept chugging along. 

I turned auto split off on my watch in case my GPS got messed up with the crowds and city buildings. I wanted to be able to see my actual splits as I passed through the mile markers, but that relied on me splitting my watch manually, which I messed up the next couple of miles. My mile 5 split was 7:44. It must have been a long mile, I thought to myself, knowing I’d just run a quick downhill and 7:44 seemed too slow. Then there either wasn’t a 6 mile marker, or I missed it, so my next split was at 10k. 8:55, I tried to do the math to figure out what pace that was. Whatever, you know you’re putting in good effort, that’s all that matters at this point. 

I took another gel without water around 10k. Eventually the water stop came and I washed it down. I was glad that I’d been practicing taking lots of fuel during my long runs, I could tell it was helping replenish my energy. 

My split for mile 7 was short because I’d last split my watch at 10k, but Mile 8 I got back on track. I split 7:38 as we left West Hartford behind and headed back towards downtown. I remembered on my race plan it said, if I felt good at mile 8, I could pick up the pace a bit. So that’s what I did. Mile 8 looped around near the finish so there were lots of fans and I fed off that energy. Plus, I felt good, like really good. I still had 5 miles to go, and I was conscious of that, so I didn’t push too hard. Not yet. 

I split mile 9 in 7:20. There were hills, more hills than I was expecting towards the end of the race, but I didn’t fear them. I powered up the hills, pushing and passing people on the way up and continuing to let gravity do the work on the way down, passing even more people. I clocked mile 10 in 7:23. I was going faster than I needed to. The race plan had said to pick it up to around 7:25 for miles 10-11, and then 7:20 for the last two miles, if I felt good. I remembered this, I knew this, and I knew that I felt good. I took another gel around this point. I saw a water stop coming up, so I quickly got the gel down and followed it with water. 

I booked it through mile 11 in 7:08. That mile must have been short. Mile 12 it started to get hard. We took a windy path along the river. It was harder to keep on the tangents and on a steady pace than it was on the road. Stay relaxed, stay focused, you’ve got this. As it started to feel hard, I pushed and found a good rhythm. 

Then there was a hill. Another hill. Okay, you’ve got this, you feel good, push. This is the last hill, conquer it. I pushed through, it wasn’t so bad. Mile 12 was 7:27. Slower than I wanted, but overall I was doing okay. I tried to do the math to figure out if I was going to make it under 1:40 if I stayed on a 7:30 pace. The answer was, I think so?

I felt good, I was a mile out from the finish, so I picked it up. Oh crap, another hill, are you kidding me? Whatever, you can conquer this one too. I did, I powered up the hill passing lots of men, which fueled me. The harder I pushed, the stronger I felt. This was the part of the marathon where I’d felt like I couldn’t make it and walked, and now here I was, feeling amazing. 

The Arch came into view just before mile 13. Almost there. I saw my mom cheering as I split my watch for mile 13. I didn’t see my split, but I knew it was fast. 6:58. I turned the corner and the finish came into view. I kicked hard. It reminded me of cross country races when I first started running. I didn’t push myself all that hard throughout the race, but the finish line would come into view and I would kick as hard as I could. There was a man on my shoulder, I pushed past him. Then he passed me back. I kicked harder. He passed the finish barely half a second ahead of me. I ran the last tenth of a mile at 6:07 pace. 

I finished in 1:38:01. Just 30 seconds off from my half PR and I felt amazing. I finished fast and strong and felt like I still had more in the tank. I thought that if I had gone for it, I could have had a big PR. But the marathon is the main goal, and I’m saving myself for that. I hoped that my fast last mile and competitive finish wouldn’t come back to bite me. I needed to recovery quickly and get back into marathon training. 

But hey, I did it. 1:38:00 in the half marathon felt easy. Well, maybe easy wasn’t the right word. But I felt strong and accomplished and proud of myself. 

In a way my strong finish in the half felt like redemption for walking at the end of the marathon a few years ago. Still, I know that the real redemption, the thing I’m really training for, is to finish strong in the marathon next month. 

I left Hartford proud of myself for staying calm and finishing strong. I’m happy I had the chance to practice dealing with race day nerves and found my strategy of staying “cool, calm, and collected” was effective. I felt content with my work and more prepared for the marathon. All in all, a huge success! And, as a bonus, I made it to the beer tent and actually drank (half of) a beer post-race. Who said runners aren’t fun??