My previous enthusiasm for the weather died just about the time they uttered the word “snow.” The forecast for Sunday went from absolutely optimal to fucking terrible likethis. Now that I am apparently a meteorologist (no seriously, I read the entire National Weather Service transcript this morning), it just looks miserable for Sunday. The NWS summed it up as “cold, blustery and wet” for VCM. Well. That just straight sucks.
Any of those elements alone would be frustrating, but not race torpedo-ing. All together, however, is a different story. A 10 mph NW wind (don’t start thinking about how many long north running sections there are, just don’t) is usually calculated to have about an 8% negative impact on pace for the same effort. This is ~6:32 to close to 7:00 for my purposes. Ouch. Why can’t you just work harder, you ask. The issue with working harder or increasing effort is the same as any other marathon mistake like going out too fast: you accumulate lactate faster than your body can clear it. No one wants to meet the wall AND be soaked, freezing and blown around.
So I’m pissed off today. And whining. And not sure what to do about the race. If these conditions happen, any real chance for a PR go out the window and it becomes a race for place, not pace. The goal of VCM this year for me was a huge PR, as predicted by both my Philly performance and my work over this cycle. Even if I place well, the time won’t be indicative of my fitness or preparation. So do I bail and try to find another race? Bail entirely and prep for cross season? Freeze?
Highlights of this morning, however, are the constant texts between Abbey, Katie and I about the weather. Abbey and I have shut down and are just grumpy. Katie is standing outside in her shorts “trying to acclimate.” And we all may wear snorkels in case things get really bad on the Causeway and swimming is involved.