Early, early, early on Saturday morning, when all of the
normal people in this world were asleep, I was feeling annoyed. I wasn’t having a bad dream (though it kind
of felt that way). Early, early, early
on Saturday morning I was herded into my corral with the thousands of other
people who were about to run the Brooklyn Half Marathon.
I really didn’t want to do this half marathon. I kind of
signed up on a whim. This race has
gotten so popular that it was predicted to sell out in 2 days (which it did),
so I got caught up in the frenzy of it and signed up several months ago mere
moments after the website for it went live.
I was so proud of myself for grabbing one of the available spots that I
had forgotten how much I disliked this race.
I ran the Brooklyn Half Marathon back in 2010, way before
this race was cool. And I hated it. It was a pain in the butt to get to from
Westchester, and it was way too hot for a course with minimal shade. The last 5 miles of the race went straight
down the Ocean Parkway, which is straight, sunny, flat and boring. Most of the streets are just letter names (Avenue
M, Avenue N, you get the idea), so watching each letter tick off one by one as
you ran on a straight, flat road was so boring that I would have fallen asleep
if I wasn’t running next to a guy with bells tied to him so he jingled all the
way down the alphabet and I was forced to listen to it the entire time.
So, here I find myself 4 years later, waiting for the exact
same experience and hating the run before it even got started. But there were already a few differences: it
was actually kind of cool out, which I admit already made me like it more. But, the race has now expanded to over 25,000
runners (in regular years, that is about the field size of the entire Boston
Marathon), so it is packed. The race is so large that it starts in 2
waves. I’m in the 2nd (read:
slower) one, which means that when I get to the Nathan’s on the Coney Island
Boardwalk that has offered a free hot dog to every runner, there will be about
15,000 people on line in front of me.
The race starts and I’m already grumbling. I really don’t want to do this. But people behind me are beginning to push,
so off I go. When I ran this race in
2010, we started in Prospect Park where we completed 2 loops before we headed
to Ocean Parkway and alphabet hell. But
with so many runners now, there would be too much confusion as fast runners
lapped slow ones, so they changed the course.
We now start by running random streets around the park for the first 3
or so miles before we enter it. The
course is kind of confusing, but I trust the navigational abilities of the
thousands of people in front of me and just follow them.
Because I’m so anxious to get into Prospect Park, those
first 3 miles fly by. I pass the 5K sign
and my time so far is 28:54, the fastest 5K I have run in a long time. Instead of being elated, though, I realize
that I’m kind of screwed. I have gone
out way too fast and I’m pretty sure it’s going to bite me in the ass in the
later miles. But since they don’t let
you go back to the beginning and start over, I slow down a little and just keep
moving.
Fortunately, my plan to pull back a little is assisted by
the big *$!/@%# hill in Prospect Park (anyone who has ever run up that hill
knows that my foul language there was completely appropriate). Also, I realize I’m thirsty. Really thirsty. Usually I never stop for water in the first
hour of a race (and therefore not at all for any race 10K or shorter). But I stop for water twice in park alone. At the 10K mark, my time is 1:01:01, and
though the math nerd inside me thinks it’s a cool number, I realize that quick
start out of the gate is affecting me even more than I thought.
At mile 7 we leave Prospect and head over to Ocean
Parkway. I keep running, and after a bit
get to those damned alphabet streets.
But for some reason they don’t bother me much anymore. I’m actually really enjoying myself. The weather is great, and Ocean Parkway is
nice and wide so I’m not tripping over other runners anymore. At mile 9 (Avenue J) I realize that I didn’t
even notice mile 8, and at mile 10 (just after Avenue P) I get a little sad
that there’s only 3.1 miles left to go.
In those last few miles, though, I hit a bit of
trouble. A few weeks ago, I had a spill
during a bike training ride (which is a really cool way of saying that I fell
off my bicycle). Last week it was
finally diagnosed as a torn ligament, so I’m running with a brace on my
wrist. It didn’t hurt for the first few
miles, but apparently I can bend my wrist just enough to make it really sore 10
miles into a run. Also, both my knees
and my lower back are really hurting.
Nothing is injured, just every step feels like someone is whacking me in
my back with a bat, and my knees are having sympathy pains. I try to figure out why this is happening and
then giggle a little when I think “well, it may be those 10 miles I just
ran. Duh.”
I’m really in pain, so the only thing I can think to do is
pull over and try to stretch a bit. I
stretch for about a minute and then hop (gingerly) back into the race. I have definitely slowed down and notice that
the woman walking near me is keeping up with me pretty well. I try to shift into a higher gear, but I was
right. I went out too fast and now I’m
paying the price. I start to beat myself
up a little, but then I giggle again when I think that I’m annoyed at having a
slow half marathon. 6 years ago I was
too fat to run 13.1 blocks; right now I’m at the tail end of my 3rd
half marathon in 3 months. Yeah, running
a slow half marathon is a pretty good thing.
This thought works as a pain reliever for my back, and I’m
able to pick it up a little bit. FINALLY
we hit Avenue Z and I know that the boardwalk can’t be too far away. At the 20K mark we run out of Ocean Parkway
and turn onto Surf Ave where we run for another few blocks before heading up to
the boardwalk. As soon as we hit the
boardwalk we pass the 13 mile sign, and I find everything I have left and start
to sprint (as well as one can sprint 13 miles into a run with a sore back and
two sore knees ). I cross the finish
line and throw my arms up (which does nothing for my aching wrist).
 |
| 2010 Brooklyn Half Marathon |
As I’m being herded once again towards medals, pretzels,
water and bananas, I look down at the watch I stopped when I crossed the finish
line: 2 hours, 12 minutes, 57 seconds. I
giggle for the 3rd time today.
My time is my 4th best ½ marathon time out of the 12 I’ve
done (and it missed being 3rd by 4 seconds), and is about a minute
faster than the Brooklyn Half Marathon I completed in 2010. In the end those early fast miles ended up
helping my overall time from being as crappy as I had expected it to be. And this time I even get a free hot dog if I
don’t mind waiting on line behind about 15,000 other people.
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