Michelob 13.1 Half-Marathon Recap!

Soooo. I notoriously psych myself out on all sorts of occasions, but for whatever reason, I was in such a good mental space for this one. It may have helped that I didn't feel like I actually had a half marathon to run—even while I was in the middle of it!

Pre-race:

The weather reports all week said Saturday would be a high of 63 degrees, and with that number stuck in my head I only put on a tank top in the morning.  But after locking the door to my apartment, I had the thought that maybe I should go back in and grab a long sleeve shirt to wear under my jacket until I got to gear check, and then I'd get rid of them both. Man, was I glad I did because it was SO COLD.

There were two other people on the train platform with me clearly headed to the race, and with every transfer the number grew until it didn't feel so unimportant—the NYC Half really seemed to cast a shadow over this one until I got to Corona Park. I stopped to use the actual bathroom near the entrance to avoid the port-a-potties, and it was so warm in there I almost didn't want to leave. I've never seen so many people hanging out in/around a bathroom just for fun.

Next I headed over to gear check, but it was still too cold to ditch my long sleeve shirt so I just pinned my bib on my pants instead and decide to run with it. I usually also pin my headphones to the back of the shirt so they don't yank out of my ears, which I guessed would be a problem later on, but whatever. 

I joined the steady stream of runners heading over to the start line, which was not at all crowded so I was pretty close to the front, and after some corny jokes by the announcer and the National Anthem we were off! My playlist was impeccable, starting with this:

The first half:

I tried to get my pace steady in the first mile and kept telling myself that I trained well and shouldn't even think about the first half (and really I shouldn't even think about the first 11 miles because I'd already run them). Overall, the race course was nothing like the NYRR course for the Queens Half—it was totally convoluted (to me) and even though I looked at the map I had no idea where it was taking me. It also had way more hills/bridges, but that was actually really nice because I love hills and my muscles truly appreciate the change-up from flats. It's always annoying on courses that repeat to see the mile markers for the second half of the race when you're only at mile 4, but I was feeling pretty good so it didn't bum me out too badly. The first half was also exceptionally windy at times, and there was some flooding in one section that had us detouring over some questionable terrain so that they needed a volunteer standing there telling us not to trip over a protruding piece of curb.  I wonder if we actually ran 13.2 because of this...

The second half:

The wind suddenly stopped and I got really warm and so while I was running I unpinned the headphones from the back of my neck on the long sleeve shirt, and re-pinned them to the tanktop. Then took off my armband and held it in my mouth so I could take off the long sleeve shirt and tie it around my waist. And then put the armband back on. It was pretty dexterous, if you ask me. I had some PowerGel somewhere around mile 8, which was at a pretty unpleasant temperature from being in my back pocket for an hour already, but it did the trick. Back over the hills, through the mud, around the flood. Roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble. 

The end:

At each mile I did the math to see when I should reach the next one if I was running a 9:30. Which I was. Meticulously. Like so eerily accurate. This is probably not that unusual or surprising, but I was pretty impressed with my legs anyway. From around mile 8 I knew that I was gonna PR for sure, and that if I kept it up I should come in at 2:04:00. Not gonna lie, I also convinced myself that every manhole cover I had to run over was like a little speed boost. I don't play video games, but this aspect should really apply to real life.

The crowds were pretty good considering it was not a huge race—and it was in Queens—and I definitely appreciated the cheers of strangers. When I passed mile 12 I decided to call my mom for some home-stretch moral support, but she didn't answer. Which was annoying because I wasted precious seconds trying to fiddle with my dumb phone to do it! So instead of a little inter-borough cheer, I convinced myself that I was actually stronger for doing these damn races on my own without anyone supporting me and that the best person I can count on is myself. Which is a little depressing. But also true. And it did make me speed up, so who cares? In the home stretch I went out of my way to high-five a row of excited kids to make up for it, and crossed the finished in 2:03:52 (beating my best time by 6:08). 

The medals were huge and heavy, but considering they also function as a bottle opener I'm not complaining. And I will probably buy a lot more beer now just to use it. The Queens Museum served as the "beer garden" and the security guard letting us in kindly feigned disbelief that I was nearly 30. 

It was kind of funny to see an art museum full of sweaty runners sitting on the steps and stretching on the floor. After my complementary can of Michelob and a bit more stretching I headed back to the train to go home, where a hot shower and sports massage were waiting. 

So, now I have 2 months until the Brooklyn Half and I'd really like to break two hours, which means I'm going to have to actually work harder at cross training and speed drills and stretching. I'm also going to work harder at attending group runs because having no one to celebrate with after these things is getting pretty lame. Even so, I'm still really proud of myself and I guess that's what counts the most :) 

The Dangers of a Runner's High

Here I sit on the floor of my overly warm apartment, alternating between bites of my breakfast sandwich and rolling out bits and pieces of my legs. I can relate, in the happiest prose, that I had a good run. I also need to start running with a tape recorder because I have all my best thoughts out there, but no way to stop and write them down. 

I woke up with a salt hangover after eating an horrific amount of Chinese food the night before. (I cannot ever remember that it's never worth it!) After a few glasses of water I tucked myself back into bed to watch The Spirit of the Marathon, again, for  little pre-run inspiration. After 102 minutes and sobbing out all the water I just drank, I put on my gear and headed to the park while the sun was still shining and I was still motivated. 

Things wen't well until about a mile in when I started to feel bad. BAD. Body check: legs and arms felt good, breathing fine, not nauseous...which meant there was only reason I was experiencing the pressure of both a heart attack and stomach ache somewhere in between those two organs; there was an air bubble trapped somewhere in there and I had to burp. Now. (This has been happening to me a lot lately, actually. I don't think I'm eating at a different-than-normal speed, but somehow I am sucking air to places it doesn't belong.) So I started to run with an exaggerated bounce, shake myself from side to side, pound myself on the back, but in the end I had to stop off on the side of the road to wiggle and stretch it out of me. Aaaahhhh.

Baaaack on track, I headed down the east side of Central Park and left it at the bottom to run across 60th Street to my old friend, the Queensborough Bridge. It is almost never sunny when I run this bridge. Somehow it is always cloudy or rainy or dark (in fact when I left my apartment in the sun I thought there was no way it would hold up because we both knew where I was headed). But I pranced up that first side in sunshiney goodness. 

I also remembered running this bridge once when a homeless couple yelled at me as I was passing them. The man seemed kind of crazy and I wondered if he'd yell at me again on the way back. Or what if I was murdered on the QB bridge? Which was kind crazy on my part. But remembering this today made me think what we all do from time to time, "Could I die happy right now?" For a split second I thought "No." I haven't climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro or seen **. But then I decided that those things were just bonuses; not the things that make up a good life. I have loved others and they have loved me. I have done nice things for people and experienced kindness myself. There are certainly more risks I could be taking to make my life more complete, and my bucket list isn't getting any smaller, but if I died right then in the middle of running—my passion—I could be okay with that. 

Anyway, off the bridge and heading back to the park I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store front and thought to myself I didn't look so lumbering in my stride. My running rights had been a little looser this morning (even though I've gained about ten pounds back during and after vacation) and overall I am in the best shape I've been in for a long while. Almost immediately after this pleasant thought I stopped at a light on the corner and stretched while waiting, and a woman also at the cross walk gave me a smile and said "Good for you!" For a minute it registered as "Oh, why because I'm a little chubby?" but then I figured she must've been referring to the below-freezing temperature. Sometimes my brain is an asshole. 

I finished up on the west side of the park and had a little stretch before taking the subway home. Because I keep putting off grocery shopping, I had to stop for a cup of coffee and the barista asked how far I ran. Fact: I need to start hanging with more people who do not repeat, with emphasis, "Only nine miles?" back at me when I say how far I've run. Yes. ONLY. Sheesh.

This good mood just might be enough for me to hop on over to the NYRR website and claim my 2014 NYC marathon entry. I've been going back and forth on whether to run it this year. I've been good about stretching and taking care of my muscles. I've been (mostly) good about dropping some lbs. I think if I put in the work I could have a good marathon. Better than my others. I'd look forward to joining a training program and meeting new running friends. I guess the only things holding me back are knowing what a time-suck it is, and worrying that I will get injured, which are both expensive prospects in time and money. 

But it's still gnawing at me. I don't have an injury to hide behind this season. No excuses. Okay. Oh shit, I'M IN.

Run, Recover, Roquefort.

Once again I've taken an extended break from this thing. No need to recap all the highs and lows in between, let's just get at it.

After a 10 mile race in January left me with bad outer foot and arch pain, an MRI showed I have tenosynovitis, tendinosis and edema, which are all just fancy ways of saying inflammation. And because blogs are about visuals, here's a picture of that junk:

I can keep training for the Michelob 13.1 in March though, so YAY! I didn't get into the NYC half, so I was forced to register for one the following weekend, sponsored by beer. There are worse things. 

Now that I'm starting to really put in the miles for two half marathons  (beer, then Brooklyn) and hopefully the NYC marathon in November, I also went to the endocrinologist last night, at the suggestion of my orthopedist, because basically I felt that I really don't have enough doctors that end in '-ist' in my life. And also to hopefully quash my shin issues once and for all. 

Today was my first run outside since the 10-miler (What?! I don't even know who you are anymore, Dana) and all things considered it went well. I ran for distance, not time, although I sort of wish I had started my watch because I think I ran faster than expected. I saw everyone in the world I knew on my run/way to run, which really means three people, but it made my morning feel social. This could also be because I worked for 20 days straight and finally have a break. Parks! Friends! Weekend!

Lots of thinking on this run, mostly about things like:

How I feel glad when I buy a pice of clothing or gear that's expensive, and there's a borderline chance I'll never use it, but then I use it all the time. 

How I really was the one that taught myself about pushing through and not giving up, but that I wish I did it sooner than my 20s.

How if anyone had access to my thoughts while running they would either think I was hilarious or be really embarrassed for me. I had this thought while I was making up a song about cheese to the tune of Miley Cyrus' "We Can't Stop" toward the end of my run. 

On that note, I'm gonna go make myself a victory omelet. 

Recappin'

So in between my 10-miler in January and my tearful 8-miler last week I did do a little running. It went a little something like this:

After the really chilly Run to the Brewery, I ran an even chillier Hot Chocolate 10k in Prospect Park with Kaitlyn.

SO COLD! Of course, by the end of it I was overheating but man were my digits numb at the start line. It was 1.5 laps of the park, and I hate loops (especially ones with huge hills!) but my time was still pretty good and I clocked in at 1:00:14.

I was hoping to do the D.C. Rock'n'Roll Half in March, but the way February went, I was too busy to train properly, so I didn't register. Smart move. I was putting in miles here and there (mostly there) but I really needed a race to get my focused and the Brooklyn Half it was. The rest of the year so far has looked like this:

March consisted mostly of bRUNch with Outward Bound friends and slowly turning up the mileage. 

Now that it's April I've done a few more races, a few "Run for Boston" runs and will finally be hitting double digits.

With just over 3 weeks to go to Brooklyn I'm a little anxious but excited. I've been registered to run this race for three years now, but each year I couldn't run because of injuries or having to travel for work...so this is my year!  Training hasn't felt too bad so far (knock on wood!).In a perfect world, I would do it under two hours, but really all I'm aiming for is to have it not be my slowest half. I think I'm on the right track :)

Boston.

Can I claim to have a running blog, casual though it may be, and not post about the Boston Marathon? Yes, I probably can, but I'm gonna go ahead and say something anyway. 

Tonight I went for a run because it was on my training schedule, but also because I wanted to be around other runners who wanted to be around other runners—because this is how we help each other make sense of something so apparently senseless. It's how we show our solidarity, pay our condolences, meditate on our heavy-heartedness, and send out our positive vibes. A lot of us were wearing blue and yellow or race shirts, but everyone seemed to be making the same silent statement. 

Somebody Call Me A Wahmbulance!

Does anyone else feel like this year is closing in on them? And it's only (read: ALREADY!) mid-April.  

I think I'll save a re-cap of the last 3 months for another day, because right now I just want to talk about the run I just had.

It's 9pm and I just got back from an 8 mile run because, even though I woke up at a respectable running hour when the sun was shining, I loafed around in bed. I watched a couple of running documentaries to get myself psyched up ("Running the Sahara"—Charlie Engel, what a dick!) and a bunch of Nike commercials on YouTube, but it didn't stick. Then it got cloudy and I didn't want to run. So I went shopping.

By the time I got home at 5, I was feeling better and the sky was clearing up, so I polished off my Carrot and Raisin cookie from the Union Square Farmers Market, rehydrated, digested, watched some more Nike commercials, and headed out around 6:30.

The first couple of miles in the park were a little tough, and I debated just doing a 5k and saving the long run for tomorrow (as part of a short group run I'm already doing) but motivation was on my side. I left the park at Columbus Circle and headed toward the Hudson—the sun was shining on the water, I was gaining some downhill momentum, and Alicia Keys was singing all about how I was on fire.

Weeping installment #1. Running catharsis is no lie.

I don't even know where it came from. I'm not even running red (which is what I've decided to start calling it when I have to run and I also have my period (sorry dudes). I thought of that on this run. Is that a thing? It is now. Gross.) I just started to feel good about being out there on a long run and couldn't hold back the tears.

One of the things I freaking love about living on the West Side now is that I'm closer to Riverside Park and the Hudson River Greenway, which is really fantastic. I hate running loops, so it's nice to be able to just run a straight shot for miles, and feeling like I'm knocking them down quickly. 72nd St...54th St...23rd St. BAM!

I realized that I was feeling pretty excellent and my body was cooperating. I was also making better time than the 10k I ran last weekend. I'm training for the Brooklyn Half and have all but committed to the NYC marathon this year. I was feeling anxious and having reservations, but this run was helping to put some of them to rest. Then I thought of my family waiting for me on 1st avenue in 2011 and

Weeping installment #2. I have a great family.

I was pretty far downtown by this point, and passed the murals I helped paint for NY Cares day. I hope they never paint over them. At mile 7, "Life" by the Avett Brothers came on, which always makes me cry no matter what, so I'd like to consider this one a freebie. HOWEVER, the sun was so glowy and the buildings were so beautiful, and the Statue of Liberty was just chillin' out, and even though I know I belong in the mountains I can't seem to leave this city.

Weeping installment #3. We're not of this world for long. I'd better start doing what I want.

It was a good long run. Then it was a good long train ride back to Harlem, so now I'm just going to eat a bowl of wheatberries and watch Clueless because I am tired (and tired of weeping haha) and that movie's been on my brain for some reason lately. What-ever!

Run to the Brewery!

My mission to do more fun, smaller, home-town races is off to a great start with the Sayville Run to the Brewery, a race that starts and ends at the Blue Point Brewing Co.

I headed out to Long Island on Friday night to stay with my friend Kaitlyn who was also running the race. Too much tasty Italian food, frozen yogurt, and a couple of NBC sitcoms later, a 6:15 wake-up call was set. Friday was freezing, at a whopping 25 degrees, and even though I knew Saturday would be warmer, it was so windy and difficult to know what to wear. Somehow we ended up in the same exact outfits as the last time we ran a race on Long Island together.

We met up with some of Kaitlyn's coworkers and my friend Jaimie (who I also tricked into convinced to run) and her friend. Kate and I started out together, but split up after the first water station around mile 2.5. This was also when—as usual—I got into my own head.