Because this is a freaking novella I will START by thanking all of you for your likes, comments, messages, emails and reassuring ears throughout training and leading up to this day. There was a moment in Mile 12 when I thought of everyone who had helped me get here, and I got a little choked up and even shed a few tears. This is what happens when you listen to “Halo” in public. But in all seriousness… thank you, and I hope I can do the same for you someday.
Our story begins 20 years ago with a little girl who was never any good at tag… ahem. Let’s pick up on Friday as I was meeting my father at the airport to drive to Asbury Park. (I am a grown-ass capable woman but I feel extremely lucky that my dad was able to come out East for the race.) We picked up our rental car, which turned out to be the kind of unmarked white van suspects are commonly described as driving away from crime scenes in – no wonder it was the cheapest option!
Our mission was to get to number pickup before it closed at 7PM and despite my best efforts to get us lost forever in Elizabeth, NJ (I think?) we managed to pull into our hotel lot, check in, drop our stuff and scoot over to Convention Hall to get my bib, chip and shirt (VERY IMPORTANT). Number pick-up was a breeze and we were even offered a freebie shirt from previous years. I was restless so my dad and I took a walk down the boardwalk in the sunset, which was both beautiful and a little creepy. Now, I had been to the beach in Asbury Park a few years ago and dimly remembered that it was very pretty, but in the off-season the beach side feels a little deserted. There’s a row of buildings directly on the shore, and then a bunch of vacant lots and half-finished construction projects. A few of the buildings date back to the early 1900s during the original Shore heyday. (If you saw “The Wrestler” and remember the scene where Mickey Rourke and Evan Rachel Wood are in that random deserted building? Yeah, we walked by that, and the next day I ran through it.)
For dinner we took the suggestion of my new Twitter friend Jen Miller, who writes about travel in Southern New Jersey (and was running the race herself!), and hit an Italian place on the boardwalk called Stella Marina. As I tried to explain to my dad that there are competing schools of thought on whether carb-loading works, I took advantage of several carb-based products, namely the bread on the table, pasta with veggie-based tomato sauce and a Blue Moon. I didn’t want to go too strictly with my eating but I did forego, in the name of good digestion, the bufala mozzarella salad I would normally get. As for the beer, je ne regrette rien – that’s what I had the night before I beat my sisters in a 5K! So clearly it works.
After dinner we watched terrible Friday night television and went to bed around 10:30. I slept pretty well because I had gotten up super early to fit in work before I had to leave for the airport, except the one time my dad snoring woke me up. (Yipe.)
Because our hotel was right on the boardwalk, I rolled out of bed at a not-shabby 6:49AM and shoved a peanut butter and banana sandwich in my face. (I packed my own because I wasn’t sure what would be available onsite.) The more I started to think about what I was about to do, the less sure I was about it. What’s that weird twinge in my knee? Do I really have to do this? Seriously, you put the Bodyglide straight ON your nipples?
The weather predictions for Saturday over the week previous had ranged from mid-50s and sunny to high-30s, pouring and tornadic, so I brought an embarrassment of clothing with me. I knew it would be windy on the course (more on this later), so I ended up going with my fleece-lined compression tights, a long-sleeved tech tee, wind jacket and gloves, but I saw every outfit from thick parka to shorts and a singlet out there – not to mention the shirtless barefoot guy I saw running later, although he wasn’t in the race. Garmin, iPod, and let’s get out of here.
We huddled inside Convention Hall for a while and then moseyed out to the start, which was just a row of orange cones – no corrals, no starting mat even. In a field of 750-ish runners, you can get away with that. (There was also a marathon relay and 2-mile walk going on concurrently, but those started in different places.) A girl sang the National Anthem, and we took off running down the boardwalk.
There were 2 course options for the half – a three-loop course that stayed mostly near the start, or an out-and-back along the ocean – the only difference being that the out-and-back held a bridge that could potentially go up during the race to admit a boat. I chose the out-and-back because I thought it would be cooler, and we ran through/around eight different neighborhoods or towns in the first 6.5 miles down.
I kicked off with an 11:01 mile and tried to keep all my miles in the low 11’s, because I was feeling good but didn’t want to go out faster and tire myself out. Additionally, watching my splits gave me something to obsess about that wasn’t my random assorted aches and pains. The bridge was down, and the first half (of the half) was fairly uneventful – mostly I was thinking, “Don’t freak out, don’t speed up, just keep it steady.” At mile 6 we cut in for the turnaround and in the next mile I tripped over a root (and almost bit it) and stepped in a puddle… not excellent. The turnaround itself was in a parking lot that cars were trying to pull in and out of, which was also not excellent. At 7 there was a water stop and I took a Gu that I didn’t really want, but it still tasted pretty good going down.
Now when I said it was “windy,” I know the forecast was calling for 16- to 23-MPH winds. If you train in that year-round, you are a beast and I admire you. On the way down, the wind was moderate blowing west off the ocean but mostly felt as though it was pushing me inland, not back. On the way back up it was much more noticeable – not straight in the face, but obstructive. My first mile after the Gu was a 12:49 or something as I struggled to regain pace and thought “Seriously?? I’m running INTO this?” I think these were the worst miles for me, 7 through 9-ish, where I knew how far I had gone, but also knew I was nowhere near the finish. I started to lose my grip on my A-goal of breaking 11-minute miles and tried to tell myself to let it go, and focus on finishing.
Right before Mile 10 I hallucinated that I saw a man-sized white Easter bunny. Oops! That really was a person in an Easter Bunny costume! So not cool.
Just over 10 miles I immediately felt better, knowing that there was just a 5K left, and how many times had I dragged myself to the gym to run just 3 miles? The sights started to look familiar; I ran over the bridge that separated the two courses and inwardly rejoiced that it was down. Time seemed to slow. Everyone I passed or who passed me seemed to be in some pain, except a 12-year-old boy and his mom who irritatingly passed me in the home stretch. I don’t think I really hit “the wall” but every time I looked at my Garmin it seemed to show less and less progress, so I tried to stop looking.
By Mile 12 I could see the Asbury Park buildings through the mist and I had this hazy feeling, hard even to put into words, that this was all somehow inevitable. That I was exactly where I should be, with my legs cramping up and the stupid wind and everything. That’s all I remember about Mile 12. It’s probably for the best.
Home stretch: I see spectators! I see my dad waiting on the other side of the finish! I see a man who is yelling “Headphones Off” 50 yards before the finish line… why??! ?! (I complied, so now in my photo I have headphones dangling from my jacket like a dork.) I managed to weakly put my hands up as I crossed, and then I burst into tears. It felt at once like I had been running for just a few minutes, and forever. My shins and knees were killing me, as well as my lower back.
I limped over to the expo and finishers’ party, held in the same hall where I picked up my number on Friday. The place was a loud, hot cluster but I wanted to at least take in the sights before I went off to recuperate. Water, sodas and coffee were all available, and for you Pennsylvanians/New Jerseyites, Wawa was catering the party so there was free pasta and free subs. But I was too dazed to be hungry, let alone to shop booths at the expo… it seems backwards to entice runners with new gear AFTER they have just been tortured.
I took a long, long hot shower and wished I had remembered to bring my foam roller, but settled on manually massaging my sore legs. (That sounds way dirtier than I mean it! I think?) We had to check out so I couldn’t just hang although all I wanted to do was lie in a horizontal position for, oh, eight hours or so.
We drove back to New York via Sonic (my dad had never been there!) and Staten Island. I had grand plans to walk around and see sights with my dad, but I was toast, and the pouring rain wasn’t helping, so I took leave of him for a few hours so I could go home and pass out in my bed. One of my roommates was home so I bragged to him about my superhuman feat.
I eventually rallied thanks to a macchiato from the coffee shop downstairs (Brooklyn, I love you so much) and met my dad for dinner at Peter Luger steakhouse in Williamsburg. I had been trying to get a reservation when he was in town for ages, but it’s very popular – even this weekend the only time I could get was 9:45. The late seating suited us though because I had time to change and chill. Steak for two, creamed spinach, a bottle of Shiraz and I was out like a light.
On Sunday I felt fairly sore but not quite as dead as I would have expected – I think walking down the hill to where my dad was staying helped me stretch out my soreness. I walked a fair amount with him during the day, unfortunately in tennis shoes that were not as sturdy as my running shoes and I ended up with a couple blisters. (Irony!!) Still, it was a great way to decompress and think about everything I went through. I’m not raring to go running, but I will be in a few days.
As to my finishing time, I am both happy and raring for revenge. My official clock time was 2:30:32, which means I met my C-goal to finish and my B-goal to break a 12-minute mile average, but I really really wanted to break 2:30. I truly believe that I have a sub-2:30 in me, and also that course conditions being what they were, I pushed myself as hard as I could. I’m not really interested in nitpicking over whether a 2nd Gu or a shorter taper would have given me those 32 seconds. Luckily, I already knew I would have this mindset – same as I had after my first 5K and 10K – and signed up for the Brooklyn Half Marathon on May 21st. Between the likely better weather and the home-turf advantage, I feel confident that I will do that and continue to move from there.
I have way more to write about what I learned from training and what I’d like to do better next time, but I’m going to close here. If you made it this far, thanks for reading.
