Club XC Nationals with Oiselle (another adventure in Fan Girl’ing)

look! see? I told you I wasn’t gone forever. Well I didn’t really say that out loud, but I was telepathically trying to assure all of you who were sitting at home worried I’d silently retired from blogging that I’d be back someday. I’m sure there were tons of you.

And per usual, I’m breaking my silence with a recap of something that happened 2+ weeks ago. Oops. The oual offices took a last-minute vacay for the holidays, I guess.

Enjoy, whoever’s still out there following!

 

If you found running later in life like I did, “cross country” might have a fuzzy stigma in your head. Or it doesn’t have any place in your head because you immediately forgot it existed after high school.

But it’s still out there! Similar to the discovery that track & field events actually occur in the space between school and the Olympics, cross country exists in a little post-scholastic corner of the running world, too. SHOCKER, I know.

Much like my first trip to the oval for track spectating, I went into Club XC Nationals week like, “duh, I’m a runner, they’re going to run. I get it.” I knew Oiselle had four teams of Volee runners (Masters, Washington, Oregon, Colorado) and it was my job to get profile-worthy action shots of all of them. I knew the course was 6 kilometers, recognized a few of the professional names on the start list, and even did my due diligence of researching whether cowbells were allowed on the course and if coffee would be served. Top notch fan girl race prep.

(coffee AND beer were both available, for the record)

Yet somehow, as we strolled up to the race Saturday morning I felt like I was entering this underground ring of running – like Fight Club with fewer black eyes and more female six packs. And no secret soap coverup.

Wandering around the athlete staging area there was this buzz in the atmosphere. Before a road race there’s a collective anxiousness and excitement, like a thousand little pennies all being thrown into a wish fountain. Club Cross felt like taking those pennies to a Coinstar machine and putting the green on the table like, “yeah man I’m all in, let’s go” and strutting around with an “I’m here to fuck shit up” attitude to match it.

photo cred instagram.com/sarahoual

It was awesome in a half inspiring, half intimidating sort of way. One second I was wishing for a bib and spikes to join the fun, the next I was praising my safety from the high-powered pain train about to rip up the course.

Aside from the all-around badass-ness there were a few things from Club Cross Country Nationals that really stood out as major perks of the sport. I mean, there’s got to be some tradeoff for the grit and gore, right?

1) The cheering, excitement, and mid-race spectator sprints

At “Club Nats” there were four separate races – Masters Women, Masters Men, Open Women, Open Men. Like a football game with time to get more beer and pee between quarters, the ebb and flow of extreme energy to excited anticipation was palpable. Runners cheering along the course during their warm up, spectators racing from point to point of the multi-loop course to cowbell and yell their faces off, and a mad dash for the finish area to catch the epic over-the-hills-and-through-the-woods final sprint. I got a mad runners high just being on the sidelines (not to mention logged nearly two miles of unorthodox interval work.)

Mac ‘belling and the pirate flag that proved very beneficial for faraway teammate spotting

2) What Time?

In the running world most of us know, race day means a race against the clock. Except that one really tiny 5k I ran in Ohio last summer and got to battle the other five women for overall placing, my race success will always be measured by minutes and seconds. Faster than goal, faster than last time, faster than personal best, etc.

In cross country, you run as a team, and are scored by place, not time. I went on the course preview run and all I could think was, “Good god this is tough! These hills! Holy crap I’m so glad I’m not running…” because in my time-based head, running a murderously tough course like that is recipe for clock disappointment.

But the XC seasoned vets were discussing race tactics and course conditions at dinner, and I realized that no one was worried about finish time. They talked about when to pass, how to keep targets in sight, and an “eat em all up” kick through the line.

Oiselle Team manager KMet kicking

LF = Lauren Fleshman back from baby, kicking ass

3) Road Hazards

Oh, you run on a flat, paved road for miles and miles? Me too. I thought it was badass until I watched women in buns and bras run through snow, up steep hills, over hay bales (what the?! how’d those get there?!), and down root, rock, and mud pit terrain at max effort. A running world where the term “spike up” is commonplace and the race director gets kudos based on course difficulty is one that I bow down to with the utmost respect.

I took good notes so maybe someday I’ll be able to hop a curb on my pavement run without looking like a flailing primadona…

4) Box Starts

Alright, imagine you’re in the corral for a road race. Got it? Yes, that is somebody’s armpit on your shoulder and OW! the chick in front of you totally just heeled you in the crotch with her last-minute quad stretch. The gun goes off and the herd slowly creeps forward like a cattle train until you cross the bottlenecked start line and finally get to stretch your awkward power walk into a run. Errrr right after a quick dodge of the walker ladies who lined up toes to the line.

Now, imagine that long-and-narrow corral is turned on its side and opened up from the side. Now tuck a group of 1-8 teammates together in a “box” (spray painted lines on the grass) and smush nearly 60 of those boxes across the line. Shoot off a gun and let the massive mad dash and jockeying for position begin.

Fun, right?? Like a horse race, without the big hats.

 

5) Team Love

More than anything else though, witnessing the bond between teammates was the best part of the weekend. Not only with the Oiselle teams, most of whom had never met before this weekend, but with all the other clubs represented as well. You could see teammates running together, working off each other. Men cheering and feeding race intel to their female counterparts. Joyous finish line celebrations. And so. many. hugs.!

As a late-in-life convert, running has always been very individual, and slightly one-dimensional to me. These adventures in XC, the track, and even a few undocumented forays into the trail/ultra world have really opened my eyes to the wide, WIDE world of the sport. I encourage everyone to look outside their normal routine, their regular path, their comfort zone – there might be something out there that grabs at that big strong runner heart of yours even harder than you thought possible.

If you need me in the meantime I’ll be at my local run shop trying on spikes and looking for haybales to borrow.

Sarah OUaL

• postscript: It goes without saying, but many a 10 Barrel, Crux, Silvermoon, and various other delicious Bend brews were consumed during the making of this trip. Brian is now demanding Oregon as our next vacation destination, so my secret agenda for the past two years of PNW traveling has been accomplished.

Sophomore Season at #HugeEug (Eugene Half recap)

I’m on the plane home from Eugene (…at the time – it’s now almost two days later. I’m at home on the couch if you want to know), the first moments I’ve really had to digest what happened this weekend. Vacation running with so many friends is an absolute blast – I LOVED sharing HugeEug with all of them – but all the activities and socializing left for little time to personally reflect on my own race.

Which is a cool problem to have, but I’m grateful to finally have had some quiet time to sit down and uninterruptedly hash it all out. Every split, every gut feeling, every overcome negative thought. It was easily my best race EVER and deserves some selfish time in the forefront. At least to me.

(and you, bc you’re here and obvs I’m going to word vomit every detail for you)

Here we go – The Half PR Tale, aka HugeEug Part II…

Oiselle, Nuun, and general Internet friends making race weekend FUCKING AWESOME since 2013 (jocelyn’s pic)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1:38.

That was my original time goal when I began training for the Eugene Half. And this is the first time I’m publicly admitting it.

Half-way through my 12 week cycle things started falling apart – I wasn’t seeing the gains I wanted and my paces were no where near what McMillan prescribes for that goal time. I gutted out the rest of training but rescinded to the fact Eugene wouldn’t be that “Run To The Absolute Best of Your Ability” race I wanted.

So when race week came I adjusted my goals and said all I wanted was to run to my best ability on THAT day. To cross the finish feeling I gave it all I had. If I could run strong mentally and overcome the mid-race self-doubt and unwillingness to hang out in the pain place that’s plagued me before, I’d be one step closer to getting to that 1:3x territory someday down the road.

Bum Wrap & Pros solidified as official OUaL race uniform

I settled into the corral between the 1:40-1:45 pace groups and listened to words by Steph Rothstein-Bruce and Craig Leon, two top US finishers at Boston this year. As the national anthem played I felt the perfect mix of nervous energy and calm confidence, and knew it could be a great day if I kept that balance and didn’t get in my own damn way.

The gun went off, “Sweet Caroline” poured through the speakers, and we crossed the start.

emily’s pic

I kept my eyes off my watch at the start, trying to run on feel until we leveled out and I could lock in to something. I really didn’t want Garmin dictating my run, but running without my usual constant monitoring terrified me that I’d either run a) way too fast and crash and burn or b) too leisurely and have too much in the tank at the end.

7:32, 7:26

The next few miles were a blur of trying to find that perfect “uncomfortably manageable” pace. My breath was controlled but my legs were already feeling the work of the hills and long slight incline. I tried not to let the idea of burning for 10 more miles scare me into slowing down.

Focusing on rhythm and feel instead of numbers worked shockingly (?) well. Each split beeped right around PR pace (7:45), and the consistency I was running at without watch-stalking was super satisfying. Like I finally just let my legs do their thing instead of robotically forcing it, and they performed way above expectation. Crazy.

7:40, 7:43, 7:43, 7:34, 7:44, 7:42

At mile 8 “The Hill” came into sight. I took water from the station (volunteers were stellar, btw) and got ready to put my head down and just go.

But then I heard a yell for my name, and déjà vu to Nuun Kim last year, SkinnyRunner’s mom was there yelling her face off, and then Mason was running next to me telling me to pick up my knees and asking if I’d been hydrating (obviously).

Hearing updates on my friends (he was on super pacer duties for like 10 people) gave me a boost, just in time for the Oiselle cheer force at mile 9. Cowbells, chicken hats, and banana suits are a great distraction from the fact we were running away from the finish line, btw.

Abby, Lauren, Becky, JJ, Meghan, KMet, Sweaty

sweaty’s caption : “see, she DOES love running!’

As we ran out towards the river the feeling in my legs turned from “working hard, muscles!” to “rapidly filling with lead, don’t want to move!” I worried I’d blown it by going out too fast and feared the looming wall that was surely just around the corner.

The thought of backing off to keep the pain at a distance crept in – without an actual goal time it seemed so tempting to turn away from it…

“will you look back at this point and regret it? when you write your recap do you want to admit to everyone you gave in?!”

I thought about the 10 miles of hard work I’d be throwing away, how I said I was going to give EVERYTHING, how the beer would taste better if I kept pushing, and committed to the rest of the race.

Still avoiding Garmin, I focused on just letting the effort feel a little bit harder – I knew I had to keep control a few more miles before really getting into the pain place.

7:49, 7:48, 7:54

“Strong and smooth. Strong and smooth.”

When two miles to go hit, I didn’t care about anything other than gassing out what was left. We were running the gorgeous tree-covered river path and the weather was perfect. There were enough people around to chase but not too many to feel cramped. I let my breath shorten and focused on lifting my knees and pushing off.

“Strong and smooth.”

It hurt. I didn’t think I could hold it. I thought again about giving in, and that for sure I was either going to puke or shit my bum wrap.

7:46

But we hit the bridge with one mile to go – crossing the water back towards campus in a very poignant “homestretch” way. I burned holes in the shirt backs in front of me, desperately trying not to let them pull away. We turned past our shakeout run spot, onto Agate, and up the cruel final hill, the sounds of the crowds at the top pulling me up.

Thanks, KMet… (photo cred Oiselle)

We crested and the Oiselles were there – their excitement cuing my first proud/happy feelings (expression attempt in above photo gets a B for effort). My legs were completely shot and I felt like I was barely moving. The final 1/2 mile to Hayward felt like a fucking eternity and I don’t think I’ve ever been passed by more people at the end of a race, but there was just nothing left to kick with.

7:41, :42s (7:30 avg)

Finally we turned into Hayward, the stands packed and the announcer calling out names, and all I could focus on was picking up my feet enough to not trip and face plant on the Tracktown USA oval where so many world-class athletes have been.

And nearly a minute faster than I ever have, I crossed a 13.1 finish line, with a “hand over heart for Boston.”

… and then collapsed into a volunteer and was put in a wheelchair. For like, a tiny amount of time. Just enough to stop the world from spinning and be able to say (/remember?) my name and where I’m from.

Which I guess validates the “finish on empty” goal?

Eugene Half Marathon, 4.28.13   –   1:40.45 (*New PR)

Almost even more than the race and PR, I’m proud of myself for not letting that original 1:38 goal overshadow my accomplishment this weekend. I set out to run the very best race I was capable of that day, and that’s exactly what I freaking did.

BOOYAH.

More on race weekend (lots of friends to brag about), the magical city of Eugene, and shenanigans soon. All with stolen pictures since my phone went the way of that old PR – RIP to both of you.

Sarah OUaL

extra thanks to Pro for sponsoring me – is this what I’m supposed to say? disclosure and stuff? anyway BLG13 is good for 40% off and free s/h!