I almost prefaced this by saying I don't think it will be one of my usual long, overly detailed race reports. But I am sure it will turn into that regardless...
I returned from Zambia on Wednesday, took Thursday off and bummed around the city, but by Friday I was DEAD tired and a walking zombie. I tried to ignore it, woke up early on Saturday and got in the last few easy miles around the Res. Marathon buzz was LOUD in the park, and in the span of 20 minutes, I ran past Brian Sell, Lance, and I think Ryan Hall and his little wife sped past- but they were moving a bit too quickly for me to be sure :)
I spent the rest the Saturday with the
roomies- easy trip to Target to stock up on Halloween sock/arm warmers, throw away sweats, plus tons of other stuff I clearly didn't need. I had this strange feeling of indifference towards the race- I wasn't nervous, I wasn't anxious, I just....was. I didn't know what this meant, but I ate dinner, watched some bad TV, listened to the rest of Manhattan celebrate Halloween outside my bedroom window, and went to bed early.
Woke up later than last year thanks to the luxury of tickets to the VIP bus via my lovely roommate who works for one of the corporate sponsors. I still had a weird nonchalant feeling- we were on the bus by 6:45, and to Staten Island by 8am. Headed straight to the VIP tent with heat, food, and (relatively) clean bathrooms. Went through the usual motions- body glide, repeated visits to the bathroom and waited for the nerves to arrive. Nothing.
Headed over to the start. Still nothing. Was pushed around by loud, rude, smelly men while waiting for Wave 2 start. Was herded towards the start line, ran into friendly faces, and found myself only a few back from the very front of Wave 2. Decided the anxiety and nerves weren't going to come. Told me roommate (who started with me and stuck by my side for the next 26.2 miles) the plan: Ignore my splits the first two miles, find 8:45 and stick to it. She said 'Whatever you want' and with no warning, the cannon sounded and we were off.
The first half of the race went by in a flash. Every mile my watch
chirped- I looked and announced "I need to slow down" My roommate agreed, but I felt comfortable and light on my feet and was having a ball. We chatted and joked down 4
th Avenue, gave the firemen high-fives, and scared Jewish children in
Greenpoint. We smelled pot in
Williamsburg, saw friends and waved like silly girls- I was cruising. Around mile 8 I got a familiar ache in my hip - I tried to push it from my mind and took 2 Tylenol 8-hour and focused on getting to the halfway point.
Mile 9- LOVE the crowds in Park Slope.
We ran through half way in exactly 1:50. It was at this moment I opened my mind to the possibility of far exceeding my expectations for the day. All morning all I could think about was last year- On the Pulaski Bridge, I finally let that go. I pushed through Queens and was ready
for the
Queensboro Bridge- I was ready to kick its ass and prove to myself I could do it.
Running down the bridge hurt as bad as last year, but this year I trusted my legs to carry me through it. We turned onto 1st and I let my legs take over. My fastest miles (after the first few) were running up 1st: 8:08, 8:09. I knew I was pushing the pace, but remember thinking "What do I have to lose?" Even if I fell apart, I was going to reach my goals. I saw loads of friendly faces on 1st, including my Dad at 103rd, which was the only time in 26.2 miles I slowed down, but just enough to give him a quick hug and get on my way. I actually hadn't looked at my watch for the last 4/5 miles.
Waving hi to my Dad around Mile 19When I saw my total time at mile 19, I realized running 10/miles the rest of the way would put me at 3:50. And for the first time all day my brain reeling: 9 /miles would put me....VERY close to Boston. And I hadn't yet run a 9 /mile. I stopped myself there- Ignore the math, ignore the time, just RUN. I had 7 more miles to get through, that is all that mattered. The Willis Ave Bridge got me bad. This was the first time the pace I was running became a bit of labored, but I held fast and tried to keep it together. It was also right around this time when I started catching the back of Wave 1 and had to start weaving. It was fun and a great feeling to be passing people left and right, but having to avoid those walking and having a tough time started to get as taxing as putting one foot in front of the other.
Leaving the Bronx, running back up 5
th Ave and into Central Park, things got a bit blurry. I wanted to stop, 5
th Ave felt endless, and I was counting the blocks until getting to Central Park: 20 blocks, 1 more mile. 10 blocks...less than 5 minutes. The climb seemed endless, and ironically this was the part I enjoyed the most last year.
Entering Central Park- totally out of it, didn't even see BC take this picture.
Into the park, all I wanted to see was the mile 25 marker. I was looking for friends who I missed on 1st Ave, but I didn't see them again. I tried not to get sad.
I don't remember running down Cat Hill. I remember my visor was starting to annoy the hell out of me. I remember holding back tears and willing my legs to keep moving. I dumped a cup of water on my head a bit after Mile 25. It felt great, but then got in my eyes and wasn't nice anymore. For some reason a bike was in the middle of the course and got in my way and I almost tripped on a curb turning on Central Park South. I remember just feeling SO close. The finish came, all I wanted to do was stop. I was overwhelmed at the end, I couldn't comprehend that I just ran a 3:42.
Both of my amazing roommates finished
Kona a few weeks ago - one ran with me for 26.2 miles, even letting me finish alone a step before her, and the other jumped in on 1st and ran the last 10 miles. They pushed me when I wanted to slow down, we got each other water when it got crowded. I know I did the work get to the start healthy and prepared, but I'm not sure I would have put this race together without them, and I am SO grateful.
