Running the GW bridge in the rain has got to be one of my most favorite things to do ever. Actually, running in any kind of inclement weather is easily one of my favorite things in the world. Almost no one else is around. You have the road entirely to yourself and the solitude is completely unmatched. I was pretty much by myself the entire run - I passed a few runners and a couple bicyclists, and a father taking his three young boys out for a walk, but other than that the world was deserted.
As I started out along Riverside, I did pass a few runners wearing bib numbers heading in the opposite direction. Later on the bridge, I passed another runner with a bib number that was so mangled and unrecognizable, it looked like he'd been out in the elements for at least the past 12 hours. Like the first few runners I passed, he was wearing a baseball cap and plastic sheet protecting the back of his neck. I could only guess that some sort of ultra was happening this morning. This was intriguing, and slightly annoying. Darn NYRR cancelled a measly little 5K in Harlem at 8:30am, long before the wind or rain had even become remotely dangerous, and here were these runners, who looked like they're been out braving the elements all morning (and possibly all night). Someday... someday... I will be one of them. But I digress.
At the end of the GW bridge, I contemplated venturing into NJ. Mind you, I always turn around and head back home once reaching the end of the bridge. NJ is completely new and unchartered territory for me. My friend Dave once told me about these amazing trails that run along the NJ cliffside, overlooking Manhattan, and I had yet to find the start of said trails. Figured today could be the day. I didn't have anywhere to be in a hurry, so I made a left and went exploring. Immediately on the other side of the bridge overpass, I came across a gigantic staircase that went up so high into the trees that I couldn't see the top of it. Without hesitation, I forged up the stairs. The staircase was pretty nifty; it had a special ramp for bikes that looked like a trough running down the entire length of the stairs. Halfway up, I found the enterance to the GW bridge north walk (which was closed - of course! I don't think I've EVER seen the north walk open in the entire time I've lived in Manhattan). However the stairs didn't stop there. The uphill climb continued and I finally ended up smack dab in the middle of the woods! There were trails! There were even signs with trail distances on them! I was so thrilled, I literally jumped for joy and squealed out of glee. I was completely beside myself with excitement - I love trails! They are so much fun! The ground was muddy and mucky, which is to be expected after all the rain we've been having. I pranced along through the soft, mucky ground, until I found a lookout point on the cliffside, where I paused and contemplated the view. I didn't venture too far into the trail, because I was only wearing my Vibrams and didn't want to risk hurting myself. After all, I was already planning to do 6 miles and had already gone farther than that - the longest run I've EVER done in those shoes - and I knew I was going to pay for it the next day.
One sign mentioned that most visitors find the park trails surprisingly rustic, probably due to the proximity to NYC, no one ever expects to find something so rustic so close to the city. One sign warned against poisin ivy and ticks - yikes!!! They also warned against rattlesnakes. I spent a good amount of time studying the trail maps and then headed back out of the park. I was positively elated.
I left Pallisades Park with a renewed sense of purpose and by the time I got back on the GW, I really fell into a groove, just cruising right along. I felt fantastic. I had energy to spare. I was refreshed, renewed, rejuvenated. The air was damp and cool. I was soooo thrilled to finally discover these trails! I can't wait to go back and explore. Exploration totally would have happened right then and there, but again, I didn't want to push it with my Vibrams, and didn't know how the minimalist shoes would handle the "surprisingly rustic" trails. At one point there was an acorn stuck between my toes and even that was painful! My poor left middle toe was throbbing by this point and only got worse as the run progressed.
After crossing the bridge, I made my way to the Hudson River Greenway to finish up this awesome run. I bounded down the ramp at 178th street, followed the pedestrian tunnel underneath the highway exit, emerged in the woods on the other side, veered to the left at a fork in the trail, went around a turn and under yet another pedestrian tunnel, past a creepy guy crouched on the ground who called out to me, emerged on a walkway that went over the railroad tracks, and finally down the staircase to the waterway. (Reaching the Hudson River Greenway uptown is no easy feat.)
When I finally got to the waterway, the sky opened up and it started to rain. This couldn't have been more perfect. (That's not sarcasm, it really truly was perfect.) I had been craving an outdoor adventure for days now, and had the strongest desire to be outside and embrace the elements. I was genuinely hoping it would rain. I wanted to experience Mother Nature in all her majesty - for better or worse. After being confined in the office for the past 5 days straight, with little to no lunch break and coming home after dark, I just wanted to be outdoors; I needed to be outside, no matter how bad the forecast was.
Over the next few minutes, the rain got progressively heavier, then it ended just as soon as it began. As I bounded along the waterway in all my glory, I was enjoying myself so immensely that I kept going past the 155th street exit. I kept trucking right along to Riverbank State Park at 145th. The only way I knew to get to Riverside Drive from there was to climb the gigantic staircase at the parking garage, so up the stairs I went - 5 flights to be exact.
I was really in an exploratory mood and remained on the lookout for another greenway entrance around 145th. After running along Riverside for a whopping 3 blocks, I noticed a partially hidden staircase behind a little playground. Wanting to prolong my adventure, I headed down the stairs, which took me over a walkway and down more stairs and over yet another walkway and down even more stairs and finally under a tunnel which opened right onto the waterfront behind the tennis courts. Awesome! I totally knew where I was. Gathering myself for the finish, I sprinted as much as one can possibly sprint with dying calves and throbbing toes through puddles and mud, and FINALLY reached the 155th street exit (for the second time that day), walked up the stairs, over the overpass, and jogged up the ginormous hill. I only stopped to catch my breath once I reached the top of the hill.
As I neared the final stretch, 2 blocks away from my apartment building, a random guy shouted "hey! a hurricane's coming! want to go out!?" or maybe he said "want to make out!?" Either way, people have a lot of nerve around here, I'll tell you that much.
I've been craving an outdoor adventure for days now, and this run most certainly did it for me. I felt the earth beneath my feet, ran over rocks, pebbles, twigs and branches, splashed in the mud, ran in the rain, and danced around puddles. I felt light and weightless for most of the run. Most importantly, I was just out there to run for the sake of running and being outside. I embraced the elements and the elements in turn embraced me right back.
Souvenirs from todays run include: a terribly jammed, sore middle toe, an awkward blister in a very odd place on my big toe, mud covered legs, smelly shoes and cramped feet. Most likely I won't be able to bend my calves AT ALL tomorrow, considering the farthest I've EVER run in my Vibrams was maybe about 2 miles. Even after just one mile I remember waking up the next day to rock-solid calves that refused to bend for anything in the world. Nearing the home stretch on today's run, I could feel my heels starting to drop. It took a very conscious effort to keep them lifted the entire time, right up until the very end. Today's run involved a ton of stairs and a lot of steep inclines and declines. My legs most certainly are going to let me know about it in the next couple of days.
But it was all worth it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
The Hurricane is Coming!
It started to rain moments after I woke up. I immediately feared that I missed my chance to go running before the storm hit. Yes, there was a storm on the horizon... or rather... a hurricane. A major hurricane (category 2 to be exact) was heading straight for NYC. The state decided to prepare for the worst case scenario, and in the process managed to freak out nearly half the population of NYC. The governor ordered a mandatory evacuation of low-lying areas and decided to shut down the entire MTA mass transit system beginning at noon on Saturday -- the first time EVER in NYC history. Yeah, because that's not going to make people worry or anything. I totally bought into all the hype and was legitimately afraid to leave my apartment building on Saturday.
My body had other plans though; I was awake, I was ready to go, and I had loads of energy to spare. There was a very slim window of opportunity and I wasn't prepared to let it pass me by. As I lay in bed reading live weather updates, I was pretty convinced there was already a torrential downpour outside my window - it might have helped if I had actually looked outside my window, instead of relying on the likes of Twitter, NY1, and weather.com... every moment that passed was another moment closer to the start of the storm... in those precious few moments I debated: run? or bike ride? Since I imagined a torrential downpour was already happening, and didn't want to put myself in unnecessary danger on a bike, it looked like I was going for a run! I downed two bottles of water, threw on my Vibrams and headed out. The plan was to run to the GW, possibly run over the bridge, and come back.
My body had other plans though; I was awake, I was ready to go, and I had loads of energy to spare. There was a very slim window of opportunity and I wasn't prepared to let it pass me by. As I lay in bed reading live weather updates, I was pretty convinced there was already a torrential downpour outside my window - it might have helped if I had actually looked outside my window, instead of relying on the likes of Twitter, NY1, and weather.com... every moment that passed was another moment closer to the start of the storm... in those precious few moments I debated: run? or bike ride? Since I imagined a torrential downpour was already happening, and didn't want to put myself in unnecessary danger on a bike, it looked like I was going for a run! I downed two bottles of water, threw on my Vibrams and headed out. The plan was to run to the GW, possibly run over the bridge, and come back.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
City living (and running)
The beauty of living in a city is you can be extremely flexible with running routes. You can run to a destination, and take the subway or bus home... or take the subway to a starting point, and run home from there. If you run too far or get stranded, or hurt yourself, there's always a way to get back.
Not like living in the suburbs, where you're pretty much stuck and it's easy to get stranded; if you run somewhere and need to stop, chances are you'll have to make your way back on foot, if you drive somewhere, you eventually have to go back to get your car, and if you go shopping after a run, you'll have to find a way to lug your purchases back home.
In the city, you can run to the store, go shopping and then just hail a cab. You could run from the Bronx to Brooklyn if you wanted to... and then plop your butt on the subway for the ride back home. No need to worry about carrying around massive bags of purchases, or re-tracing the route you just challenged yourself to complete.
It's pretty neat having access to public transit.
Not like living in the suburbs, where you're pretty much stuck and it's easy to get stranded; if you run somewhere and need to stop, chances are you'll have to make your way back on foot, if you drive somewhere, you eventually have to go back to get your car, and if you go shopping after a run, you'll have to find a way to lug your purchases back home.
In the city, you can run to the store, go shopping and then just hail a cab. You could run from the Bronx to Brooklyn if you wanted to... and then plop your butt on the subway for the ride back home. No need to worry about carrying around massive bags of purchases, or re-tracing the route you just challenged yourself to complete.
It's pretty neat having access to public transit.
Who can hold a plank for 4 minutes without resting??
Who can hold a plank for 4 minutes without resting?? ...that's right, this girl can.
It must have been the planks. That's the only thing I've been doing differently. My entire body feels stronger- abs, legs and arms- and it must have paid dividends in my running. Either way I'll take it.
My regular plank routine consists of 5-10 minutes of multiple plank variations: fully extended, bent elbows, side, back, twisting, raised leg, raised arms, leg out to the side. It's incredible how much stronger i feel just by doing those few simple moves. Without time, energy, motivation, or money to go to a gym, the planks are a phenomenal workout and make me feel fantastic (even if I have to deal with sore abs every other day).
Monday, July 4, 2011
Fourth of July Marathon
I didn't have anything else to do on Monday morning, so why not run a race!? Sometime over the weekend, I found out via Twitter about the 4th of July Marathon (thanks inwoodrunner!) and with less than 36 hours until the starting line, I decided a holiday morning race sounded like a great idea. That's how I ended up in the Bronx at 9am on the 4th of July with about 300-400 other runners, ready to run through the trails of Van Cortlandt Park. About 85% of the course was through the woods. It was awesome. Hard, but awesome. I love trail running. I rock at downhill running - it's such an amazing feeling to just let gravity take over and fly down the side a hill. The uphills are another story altogether; I seriously struggle on the way up, sometimes slowing practically to a walk, but I really make up for time on the downhills.
The course was a 6.55mi loop, so 4 loops would equal a full marathon. But you also had the option of running as many loops as you wanted. I opted to do the half marathon, which was 2 loops. Fairly ambitious, considering this was my first trail race since... high school! Besides I just ran a rough half 2 weeks ago and my feet and quads were still recovering.
This race was rougher than I imagined!!! The trails were incredibly deceiving, and the first loop was so challenging that I nearly stopped after just 6.55mi. The course just dragged on and seemed to take FOREVER... When we came out into a clearing, I thought for sure we had done at least 5 miles. I eagerly pulled out my phone to check the time, and I had only been running for 37 minutes! Based on my average pace, this means I couldn't possibly have gone farther than 4 miles... let alone 5 miles. Then I turned a bend in the trails, and there was another steep uphill staring right at me. Gahhh!! I would have killed for just a glimpse of the finish line.
I spent the next 2 miles debating whether it was insanity to continue or not. However, once we got to flat ground I felt better and convinced myself it wasn't all that bad. When I finally reached the elusive start/finish line at the 6.55mi mark, I plowed straight through, grabbed a water bottle and commenced my second lap.
Somewhere during the first loop, a ton of runners blew past me. Actually, runners continually blew past me throughout the entire race. I don't know where they came from, or where they got all their energy from. Maybe they were just doing the 10K. Either way, it was a bit disappointing, because despite the never-ending trails, I felt pretty great. I was really giving it my all and moving along at a fairly swift pace... at least it felt quick. So although countless runners were blowing past me at every turn, it wasn't as demoralizing as it could have been.
There was incredible support from the field of runners. Half the people who passed me encouraged me along, and I dont think anyone actually had headphones in. I haven't experienced an atmosphere like that since... right, since high school! I was only racing against myself anyway. And I knew I was doing the best I could possibly have done while still being kind to my body. I know I could certainly afford to push my own limits a little more often, but even so, I am happy when I base my performance on how I feel; it's good to know you're taking care of yourself. Only one minor injury occurred; I actually lost both my second toenails. Somewhere between Fairfield and the 4th Half, they completely separated from my toes. Ah the consequences of being a distance runner. (At least I still have both my big toenails! *knock on wood*)
This race was a serious small town operation. Nothing fancy, just a bunch of runners who love running for the sake of running. It wasn't even officially timed. We were held to the honor system to track our own time and write it down in a notebook at the end. I loved it. They even handed out festive bandanas, jelly beans in little star shaped bags, small American flags, and dog tags. It was all cheap stuff from Oriental Trading, but it was awesome! Our race bibs had a 74 on it. I'm still trying to figure out what that stands for. I tied a bandana around my forearm, and at a few crucial points during the race, I actually glanced down at the bandana, and thought to myself, "You are so badass. You have a bandana on your arm! You can totally do this!" Judge if you must - it worked.
The race was completely free but they did ask for donations. Suggested donation was just $10 to cover materials. I only had a dollar, so I dropped it in the donation box. I definitely feel the race was easily worth $10-$20 and gladly would have contributed more if I had more cash.
After heading home, I was totally wiped out. I also felt slightly nauseus (this has been a recurring theme over he past week or so) so after showering, I laid down in bed. I honestly felt so sick that I didn't even know if I'd be up for going to fireworks that night. I didn't get out of bed for the rest of the day. After waking from a short nap around 7pm, I felt a little better; then I ate a huge salad with roasted sweet potato fries and I felt dramatically better. So I quickly got ready and headed over to my friend's place in Hoboken to see the fireworks.
The course was a 6.55mi loop, so 4 loops would equal a full marathon. But you also had the option of running as many loops as you wanted. I opted to do the half marathon, which was 2 loops. Fairly ambitious, considering this was my first trail race since... high school! Besides I just ran a rough half 2 weeks ago and my feet and quads were still recovering.
This race was rougher than I imagined!!! The trails were incredibly deceiving, and the first loop was so challenging that I nearly stopped after just 6.55mi. The course just dragged on and seemed to take FOREVER... When we came out into a clearing, I thought for sure we had done at least 5 miles. I eagerly pulled out my phone to check the time, and I had only been running for 37 minutes! Based on my average pace, this means I couldn't possibly have gone farther than 4 miles... let alone 5 miles. Then I turned a bend in the trails, and there was another steep uphill staring right at me. Gahhh!! I would have killed for just a glimpse of the finish line.
I spent the next 2 miles debating whether it was insanity to continue or not. However, once we got to flat ground I felt better and convinced myself it wasn't all that bad. When I finally reached the elusive start/finish line at the 6.55mi mark, I plowed straight through, grabbed a water bottle and commenced my second lap.
Somewhere during the first loop, a ton of runners blew past me. Actually, runners continually blew past me throughout the entire race. I don't know where they came from, or where they got all their energy from. Maybe they were just doing the 10K. Either way, it was a bit disappointing, because despite the never-ending trails, I felt pretty great. I was really giving it my all and moving along at a fairly swift pace... at least it felt quick. So although countless runners were blowing past me at every turn, it wasn't as demoralizing as it could have been.
There was incredible support from the field of runners. Half the people who passed me encouraged me along, and I dont think anyone actually had headphones in. I haven't experienced an atmosphere like that since... right, since high school! I was only racing against myself anyway. And I knew I was doing the best I could possibly have done while still being kind to my body. I know I could certainly afford to push my own limits a little more often, but even so, I am happy when I base my performance on how I feel; it's good to know you're taking care of yourself. Only one minor injury occurred; I actually lost both my second toenails. Somewhere between Fairfield and the 4th Half, they completely separated from my toes. Ah the consequences of being a distance runner. (At least I still have both my big toenails! *knock on wood*)
This race was a serious small town operation. Nothing fancy, just a bunch of runners who love running for the sake of running. It wasn't even officially timed. We were held to the honor system to track our own time and write it down in a notebook at the end. I loved it. They even handed out festive bandanas, jelly beans in little star shaped bags, small American flags, and dog tags. It was all cheap stuff from Oriental Trading, but it was awesome! Our race bibs had a 74 on it. I'm still trying to figure out what that stands for. I tied a bandana around my forearm, and at a few crucial points during the race, I actually glanced down at the bandana, and thought to myself, "You are so badass. You have a bandana on your arm! You can totally do this!" Judge if you must - it worked.
The race was completely free but they did ask for donations. Suggested donation was just $10 to cover materials. I only had a dollar, so I dropped it in the donation box. I definitely feel the race was easily worth $10-$20 and gladly would have contributed more if I had more cash.
After heading home, I was totally wiped out. I also felt slightly nauseus (this has been a recurring theme over he past week or so) so after showering, I laid down in bed. I honestly felt so sick that I didn't even know if I'd be up for going to fireworks that night. I didn't get out of bed for the rest of the day. After waking from a short nap around 7pm, I felt a little better; then I ate a huge salad with roasted sweet potato fries and I felt dramatically better. So I quickly got ready and headed over to my friend's place in Hoboken to see the fireworks.
Apparently a small group of runners spearhead races on ever major holiday as part of a "holiday marathon" series. The next one is Labor Day, and I've pretty much already made up my mind that I'm doing it!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Fairfield Half Marathon
My standard three alarms were set in 5-minute increments (starting at 6:20am) but thankfully I didn't need any of them. My eyes shot open before the first alarm even went off, and I was wide awake at 5:45. I didn't want to risk going back to sleep for just 25 minutes, so I laid on the couch and read my book. I think my friend Ron nearly fainted when I texted him that I was awake. He responded: "oh glorious day! it's already amazing!!" And that about sums it up.
I went into this race feeling fantastic. I felt strong, capable, and ready. I was optimistic, energetic, and actually quite excited about running through my old college town. Every time I'm in Fairfield, I get that warm fuzzy feeling like I'm "home" again.
By the time Ron arrived, promptly at 6:50am, I was ready to go. Since I had laid out my clothes and set aside my sports beans the night before, basically all I needed to do was throw on my clothes, wash my face and head out he door. I grabbed a slice of bread with peanut butter & honey (standard pre-race fuel) about T-minus 1.5hrs until the start. The only things I brought with me to the race were my credit card, a $10 bill, chapstick, and sports beans, all which fit nicely in the pockets of my nifty Adidas running shorts. I also brought my phone and water bottle, but left them in the bag check with Rons stuff. We parked at the Fairfield train station and took the shuttle bus to the beach. I still can't believe how early we were - the timing was perfect. We had plenty of time to pick up our numbers and wait in line at the porta-potties without being rushed. I even snagged a small tee shirt! It was a nice relaxing way to start a race. At one point, while scanning the crowd for Ron, I noticed John Fields from my graduating class at Fairfield. What a small world. I chatted with him for a bit and wished him good luck, then proceeded to the bag check.
The humidity factor had already skyrocketed by 8:30 in the morning. The announcer kept advising everyone to hydrate well - before, during and after the race. I decided to heed his advice and took full advantage of the water tables before the race even started. I'm so glad I did! I remembered my experience with the Fairfield Half 3 years ago, and it was NOT pretty (I was sick to my stomach and nearly collapsed in a pile of misery and tears just before the finish line).
Ron and I parted ways and made our way to our respective starting lines (the start was split by men/women for crowd control, which I think was a fabulous idea). The race started out pretty well. I ran along the sidewalk for the first mile or so, comfortably passing most of the crowd and working my way up to the runners going my pace. The separate starts helped a lot to alleviate congestion, and before the end of mile 2, there was enough room to run freely, and I fell into a comfortable groove.
The initial comfort level was extremely short-lived. This race was TOUGH!!! I remembered Fairfield being hilly and hot, but I completely forgot just how hilly and hot it actually was! It was brutal. I was pouring sweat before I even crossed the starting line. The sun beat down on me nearly the entire time and I could actually feel my face start to burn. I slugged up every single hill, slowing nearly to a walk pace, while dozens of runners flew past me. I made up for the uphill struggles by letting gravity take over on the downhills; I flew down the hills but destroyed my toes in the process. The fire hoses set up on ladders spraying the road were my salvation. I ran underneath the water sprays with the determination and glorious ecstasy that usually comes with crossing the finish line. I was so afraid of dehydrating that I stopped for water at least 4-5 times. I could not have survived without the multiple water stops. If it weren't for the fire hoses, water stops, and the occasional stretch of shaded road, I probably would have died.
Somewhere in the first half of the race, I saw Ron up ahead, caught up to him and matched his pace. His plan was to run 8-min miles, so you can imagine how shocked I was to find him. Granted, he was taking it "easy" but I still couldn't believe I actually passed him! Ron is a super star; he qualifies for the first corral at NYRR events.
A little farther into the race, I overheard two girls behind me talking about CPTC and I could have sworn one was runnerskitchen (Megan if you are reading this, were you or your friend wearing red sunglasses?) Those girls seemed to be taking it so effortlessly, and kept going at a conversational pace throughout the entire race. It's ironic to me because I was legitimately racing this race, and we were around the same pace... anywho I couldn't believe how fast I was going and kept calculating my pace in my head, thinking I might PR. I racked my brain, trying to remember my previous half PR, but that was years ago. I didn't think I would get it, especially when I noticed my pace dropped significantly in the last half of the race.
At another point, I overheard tons of people cheering for someone named Maggie. As I slowly closed the gap between me and this girl Maggie, I realized that she was one of my old tutees!! Again, what a small world. I congratulated Maggie on her awesome pace (this was her first half marathon) and then plowed on ahead. It's all kind of a blur at this point. I ate 4 sports beans somewhere around mile 7 or 8. They tasted really sugary and gross and kind of bothered my teeth.
I had to do so much self-talking and coaching throughout this race. I kept wondering when the hills would end. I didn't want to tire myself out too early if lots of hills awaited, but I wanted to give maximum effort on the uphills if there were only a few left. As it turned out, I needed to give maximum effort anyway, just to avoid walking up the hills. I kept searching desperately for each mile marker. Once we reached mile 10, I picked up the pace, thinking I could survive with just a 5K left. After that, it seemed like FOREVER before the next marker sighting; I actually thought I missed mile 11 and would be coming up on mile 12 soon. WRONG. When I finally saw the 11 mile marker after what I thought for sure was 12 miles, I nearly cried. The course was taunting me.
Ron came up behind me around mile 12 and put on an incredible kick for his last mile. I tried to follow his lead, but he was out of my sight before I could even process what was happening. When we approached Penfield beach I was pretty much sprinting and thought for sure I could push it at that pace just a few more yards. Then we turned the corner and I found out we had another .25 miles left. I wanted to give up then and there.
At the end of the day, all that matters is that I gave this race 110%. I ran fast, I ran hard, and I never stopped. I felt optimistic going into this race, and I surpassed all my own expectations. I got a PR!!!! My standing PR was from 2009 - 2 years ago! - and I killed it by almost 2 minutes! I was so surprised that I nearly cried... but surprisingly I didn't. Despite continually pushing myself through the entire race, enduring extreme agony for the last 2 miles, and being on the verge of tears nearly the entire time, this is the first half marathon I can remember where I didn't cry.
The craziest part of all, is my time improved by 12 full minutes in just four weeks. Unbelievable! (I just ran the Brooklyn Half about a month ago, and didn't even break 2 hours.) It's even more incredible because I haven't even been training. The longest run I did between Brooklyn and Fairfield was 8 easy miles. I've been doing my standard 1-2 mile morning runs, with the occasional (3-6mi) weekend run thrown in, but that's the extent of it. Then I just got up and ran a half marathon PR on an extremely tough course. Go figure. I'm positively thrilled.
I went into this race feeling fantastic. I felt strong, capable, and ready. I was optimistic, energetic, and actually quite excited about running through my old college town. Every time I'm in Fairfield, I get that warm fuzzy feeling like I'm "home" again.
By the time Ron arrived, promptly at 6:50am, I was ready to go. Since I had laid out my clothes and set aside my sports beans the night before, basically all I needed to do was throw on my clothes, wash my face and head out he door. I grabbed a slice of bread with peanut butter & honey (standard pre-race fuel) about T-minus 1.5hrs until the start. The only things I brought with me to the race were my credit card, a $10 bill, chapstick, and sports beans, all which fit nicely in the pockets of my nifty Adidas running shorts. I also brought my phone and water bottle, but left them in the bag check with Rons stuff. We parked at the Fairfield train station and took the shuttle bus to the beach. I still can't believe how early we were - the timing was perfect. We had plenty of time to pick up our numbers and wait in line at the porta-potties without being rushed. I even snagged a small tee shirt! It was a nice relaxing way to start a race. At one point, while scanning the crowd for Ron, I noticed John Fields from my graduating class at Fairfield. What a small world. I chatted with him for a bit and wished him good luck, then proceeded to the bag check.
The humidity factor had already skyrocketed by 8:30 in the morning. The announcer kept advising everyone to hydrate well - before, during and after the race. I decided to heed his advice and took full advantage of the water tables before the race even started. I'm so glad I did! I remembered my experience with the Fairfield Half 3 years ago, and it was NOT pretty (I was sick to my stomach and nearly collapsed in a pile of misery and tears just before the finish line).
Ron and I parted ways and made our way to our respective starting lines (the start was split by men/women for crowd control, which I think was a fabulous idea). The race started out pretty well. I ran along the sidewalk for the first mile or so, comfortably passing most of the crowd and working my way up to the runners going my pace. The separate starts helped a lot to alleviate congestion, and before the end of mile 2, there was enough room to run freely, and I fell into a comfortable groove.
The initial comfort level was extremely short-lived. This race was TOUGH!!! I remembered Fairfield being hilly and hot, but I completely forgot just how hilly and hot it actually was! It was brutal. I was pouring sweat before I even crossed the starting line. The sun beat down on me nearly the entire time and I could actually feel my face start to burn. I slugged up every single hill, slowing nearly to a walk pace, while dozens of runners flew past me. I made up for the uphill struggles by letting gravity take over on the downhills; I flew down the hills but destroyed my toes in the process. The fire hoses set up on ladders spraying the road were my salvation. I ran underneath the water sprays with the determination and glorious ecstasy that usually comes with crossing the finish line. I was so afraid of dehydrating that I stopped for water at least 4-5 times. I could not have survived without the multiple water stops. If it weren't for the fire hoses, water stops, and the occasional stretch of shaded road, I probably would have died.
Somewhere in the first half of the race, I saw Ron up ahead, caught up to him and matched his pace. His plan was to run 8-min miles, so you can imagine how shocked I was to find him. Granted, he was taking it "easy" but I still couldn't believe I actually passed him! Ron is a super star; he qualifies for the first corral at NYRR events.
A little farther into the race, I overheard two girls behind me talking about CPTC and I could have sworn one was runnerskitchen (Megan if you are reading this, were you or your friend wearing red sunglasses?) Those girls seemed to be taking it so effortlessly, and kept going at a conversational pace throughout the entire race. It's ironic to me because I was legitimately racing this race, and we were around the same pace... anywho I couldn't believe how fast I was going and kept calculating my pace in my head, thinking I might PR. I racked my brain, trying to remember my previous half PR, but that was years ago. I didn't think I would get it, especially when I noticed my pace dropped significantly in the last half of the race.
At another point, I overheard tons of people cheering for someone named Maggie. As I slowly closed the gap between me and this girl Maggie, I realized that she was one of my old tutees!! Again, what a small world. I congratulated Maggie on her awesome pace (this was her first half marathon) and then plowed on ahead. It's all kind of a blur at this point. I ate 4 sports beans somewhere around mile 7 or 8. They tasted really sugary and gross and kind of bothered my teeth.
I had to do so much self-talking and coaching throughout this race. I kept wondering when the hills would end. I didn't want to tire myself out too early if lots of hills awaited, but I wanted to give maximum effort on the uphills if there were only a few left. As it turned out, I needed to give maximum effort anyway, just to avoid walking up the hills. I kept searching desperately for each mile marker. Once we reached mile 10, I picked up the pace, thinking I could survive with just a 5K left. After that, it seemed like FOREVER before the next marker sighting; I actually thought I missed mile 11 and would be coming up on mile 12 soon. WRONG. When I finally saw the 11 mile marker after what I thought for sure was 12 miles, I nearly cried. The course was taunting me.
Ron came up behind me around mile 12 and put on an incredible kick for his last mile. I tried to follow his lead, but he was out of my sight before I could even process what was happening. When we approached Penfield beach I was pretty much sprinting and thought for sure I could push it at that pace just a few more yards. Then we turned the corner and I found out we had another .25 miles left. I wanted to give up then and there.
At the end of the day, all that matters is that I gave this race 110%. I ran fast, I ran hard, and I never stopped. I felt optimistic going into this race, and I surpassed all my own expectations. I got a PR!!!! My standing PR was from 2009 - 2 years ago! - and I killed it by almost 2 minutes! I was so surprised that I nearly cried... but surprisingly I didn't. Despite continually pushing myself through the entire race, enduring extreme agony for the last 2 miles, and being on the verge of tears nearly the entire time, this is the first half marathon I can remember where I didn't cry.
The craziest part of all, is my time improved by 12 full minutes in just four weeks. Unbelievable! (I just ran the Brooklyn Half about a month ago, and didn't even break 2 hours.) It's even more incredible because I haven't even been training. The longest run I did between Brooklyn and Fairfield was 8 easy miles. I've been doing my standard 1-2 mile morning runs, with the occasional (3-6mi) weekend run thrown in, but that's the extent of it. Then I just got up and ran a half marathon PR on an extremely tough course. Go figure. I'm positively thrilled.
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