Thirteen Point One

2010 Half Marathon: Completed! I finished my first race of the year and now have officially kicked off my 2010 season. The race was one of the toughest I've ever run, and I'm pretty sure that I feel worse after this half marathon than I have after either of my marathons.

It started raining in New York around 4 AM. When I woke up at 6:30, it didn't seem too bad; it was worse to me that it was only about 45 degrees. Running in the mid-40's is tough because you're either freezing you ass off at the start, or you're stripping down over subsequent miles. I am (a) too uncoordinated and (b) waaaay to cheap to strip down over miles (throw away a $45 Under Armor? Perish the thought!), so this is always very problematic for me. I wore my 2009 Boston Marathon long sleeved climate control tee under my Bruins Timmy Thomas cotton t-shirt (because it's playoffs!) and my Yankees hat. This is my race hat. If you think I'm weird about my sneakers, you have no idea my attachment to my running hat.

As I walked to the park, I realized that I was not nervous for this run at all. That's all it was - a run. I did 10 miles last week, now I'm just doing 13. No biggie. And then it started raining harder. Sigh.

So I walk into Central Park, and as I'm walking to the start area, I see this long, winding, gradual hill coming down on my left, and I groaned.

I. Hate. Hills.

Not like...ya know...a regular person who runs a couple miles or like in that obvious "I hate hills" kind of way.

I. HATE. Hills.

Last Wednesday, I had an early morning appointment with my trainer about my 9:48 miles and my hopes/expectations/goals for this race based on that time. It went a little something like this:

Me: Well, as long as there's no gnarly headwind like there was on Monday, and no major hills, I should be fine.

Lisa: You'll totally be fine. I mean, there aren't any hills in Central Park.

Now, I haven't spent any substantial time in the park, and Lisa said this with the same authority as she says, "OK, 20 squats", so I was like....yeah. OK. No hills. Let's DO this.

I had picked up my bib (number) on Saturday, and I was #5127. This race is one of the few that I have run that had corrals. This is how they group runners at the start, so that faster runners can get through easier, and not be clogged up by clumps of slower runners. So I was in the 5,000-5,999 corral. I pinned up and took off my running jacket - I was race ready:

At first I thought that the corral numbers posted were mile times, so I was hanging out in the 9,000's, and was a little panicky that there wasn't any slower time than 9:00...especially since I would have to be on some sort of 'roids to be able maintain a 9 minute mile for 13 miles. Annnnnd then I realized it was by 1000's. Phew.

We had to be in our corrals by 7:50 AM. Gun time was 8:00. It was a long, rainy, cold (cold cold cold) 10 minutes. I stood around, half listening to the announcer, half worrying about my iPod battery life (I totally forgot to charge it the night before). I was very cold and pensive in my corral:

There was the typical thanking and clapping and announcing that happens in that nervous time between the final line up call and the gun. One fact announced while we were all standing (bouncing, shaking) there: there were 10,000 registered women runners for this event. This is insane. The Boston Marathon is 26,400 runners (which is one of the biggest events in the world), and the Baystate Marathon that I ran this fall was 484 people. Ten Thousand women, standing in the rain, waiting to take on this race.

The gun went at 8, and it took me 4:00 to get to the start mats, which register with the tag on my shoe, to give me an accurate time. I hit my watch, and off I went.

The first mile was down hill-ish, which would've been great, if (a) this wasn't a loop race and (b) if I didn't have to do that loop twice. So while I was on my descent, I suddenly think: crap. If I'm running down hill now, I'm going to have to run uphill eventually.

Then I thought about Lisa's words "...no hills in Central Park."

Just to be clear: Central Park is. ALL. HILLS. At least the 6 miles around the outside edge of the park is. ALL. HILLS. There was maybe 50 meters where I didn't feel any incline whatsoever, and by the time I realized that it wasn't a hill, it was too late - I was already on another hill.

Between miles 3 and 4 (and therefore miles 9 and 10), there was this mega-bitch of a hill. It was long, it was winding, and it was fucking steep. My first mile had been killed by trying to shake the pack; weavers and pairs, and women who were not as fast as me (did I really just say that?) so I figured that this hill was going to be the great divide between the girls and the women so to speak. I felt that getting up over this giant ass terrible hill was going to make or break my race.

I got over the hill, and had a giant ass mega bitch of a descent down. Now I know what most people are thinking: "Sweet!" This thought, while nice, is totally 100% incorrect. Running downhill is just as (if not more) taxing on your body. A nice gradual downhill is juuuuust fantastic, but running down a giant ass mega bitch hill after dragging yourself up a giant ass mega bitch hill is just MURDER on your legs.

It's totally fine if you have a GAMB hill and then some flat ground to reestablish your rhythm. But like I said, Central Park is ALL HILLS. So I was up hill, I was down hill then back up then down down down then up down up up up down up....down. I never got comfortable, the whole run (soaking wet dog feeling aside).

I knew my dreams of a sub 2:15:00 run were dashed (no pun intended...or is it?) after the GAMB hill mile 3 to 4 registered an 11:00 mile on my clock. It was even more apparent after I finished the first 6 mile loop and realized that I'd have to run all those GAMB uphills and down hills again. And part of me cried a little.

So there are parts of most runs that the following train of thought comes barreling through my head: "What the fuck am I doing? Why the hell am I doing this? This is stupid. My legs are screaming. I'm hungry. I hate my sneakers. I hate my playlist. I hate my stupid stubbornness that makes me stupidly run. Ugh. When is this going to be fucking over?"

This went through my head starting at mile 5. This was not good.

What was good was the 3 Powerade GUs that I ate at miles 3, 4.75 and 5 respectively. They started to kick in right around mile 7. And then my playlist started picking up (I had painstakingly put together on Friday. There was Excel involved. Yeah.). By the time I got to mile 9, I knew that hill was coming and so I dogged it a little at water station. Delaying the inevitable.

I switched into a lower gear until I felt my gluts burning (and was cursing/loving all my squats during the winter). I hit 10 miles. I hit 11 miles. I hit....the wall. So bad. Between miles 11 and 12, I seriously contemplated walking; I was in pain, I was wet, my feet were squishing in my sneakers. But I knew that slowing down would just mean extra minutes in the rain. I cleared 12 miles at about 2:05:00. Deep breath. 1.1 miles to go.

I begged my legs to keep moving. I had run out of all my super pump up songs and was on to my contingency plan GirlTalk tracks. At mile 13, I saw a familiar face (Joe) and that always makes the run a little easier - especially when I only have a tenth of a mile to go:

After I passed him, I looked down at my watch and saw I was at 2:17:30, and knew I had to turn on the afterburners. I wanted to run this in 2:15, but I had to run it in 2:19:21, because that would be 13:00 faster than my first half marathon, meaning that I would have pulled about 1:00 off of my mile time per mile. So I started to book it (as much as screaming legs could book) and I even passed someone on my "sprint"! (I like....never finish around people....so passing someone is pretty exciting.) So I crossed the mat, and hit my stop on my watch and looked down.

2:18:38

I did it!

First thing the volunteers gave us was.....a medal? Really? It's mid-40's, raining, and I just ran for 2 hours....and you're not coating me in mylar blankets (which prevent hypothermia)?

Shivering, with my medal around my neck, I bumped down the line to get my bagel and banana and Gatorade. I found Joe and shivered some more. Once we got me in some warm, dry clothes, I could finally celebrate:

Like I said, overall, this was probably my hardest race I've ever run. But this makes me optimistic for Chicago - mostly because the Midwest is FLAT.

My official time was actually 2:18:38, and I came in 3029 out of ~10,000 runners. I rocked it.

I have about 6 weeks before I start my training for Chicago, and I am totally ready to break 5:00:00!!

Special thanks to Joe, who stood in the rain for 2:18:38 + and took some great pics for this post.

See you on the road.

Amy