The training has taken on a more serious tone as each day brings me one step closer to the starting line. Multiple people have told me that completing the NYC Marathon will take a total commitment and some days I wonder if I really have what it takes.
On June 16 I completed race #8, bringing me one step closer to guaranteed entry for 2009 (The idea that I can plan so far in advance is staggering). This race was definitely one for the record books. Firstly, the night before, I drank two beers and shared a bag of corn chips with Dan Cohen. On top of that, I went to bed later than I had planned. I knew it was stupid but Dan had called early in the week and I felt bad turning down his invitation. Dumb, dumb dumb.
The lesson: training and running needs to come first. Especially above eating poorly and not sleeping.
I didn't feel that bad in the morning but I was definitely anxious. Getting up, I moved a bit slower and ended up getting to the train a few minutes later than I expected. I didn't think it would be a problem, especially seeing all the other runners on the platform. Until, of course, I got the urge to go to the bathroom.
The train didn't come. Five, ten 20 minutes passed. It was now one hour to race time and I was still in Brooklyn. Finally, it came. Then, I discovered that the C line was not running. Now the time is really ticking away. Other runners are getting on the train. It's moving slowly. I'm in a panic.
We finally arrive at 72nd street and I make a mad dash to the baggage drop off. The announcer is calling "one minute until the corrals close" and I realize I will not be able to go to the bathroom. Or drink.
And that's when the humidity hit me: 93 percent. The water was hanging in the air and I needed to drink or risk a whole host of problems. I dropped my bag and sprinted to my corral, almost pushing people out of the way. Standing there nervous, late, thirsty in a pool of sweat was not the way it was supposed to be. Then, I started to see the survivors of prostate cancer scattered throughout the crow of runners. One woman was running alongside her father who beat the disease.
I figured I just needed to finish. Forget the time. Just finish. Drink at every mile. It'll count as long as I make it across the finish line. What's five miles?? Anyone could do that?? Right??
Then the familiar, headless and faceless voice of Peter Chacha gave us our final instructions. And we were off. I grabbed a cup of water as I passed the starting line and kept going. And going. And going, passing people who looked to be in much better shape. About one mile in, I started to approach a man with one leg wearing arm braces. At first I thought it was a rogue runner who had just jumped into the race. As I drew closer, I turned to see if he had a number on his chest. To my complete amazement, he was wearing a number, and looking for the same sense of accomplishment as I was. Other runners started cheering. I almost broke down in tears. It was heartwarming.
The miles past and I kept running and drinking. About half a mile from the finish line, I knew it was over and opened the throttle. Using the last burst of energy I had left, I blew across the finish line at full speed. I was soaking wet down through my socks.
Conclusions: I prefer running in the cold; I need to better prepare for these races; I have come a long way.
Later in the week, I ran as follows:
6/16: 1 mile
6/18: 3 miles at full speed; sprinting for at least 1 mile.
6/20: 10.05 miles (3 laps) in Prospect Park
6/21: 30 miles on my bike
So, for the week ending on 6/21, I completed a total of 19.05 miles running, 49.05 miles of self-powered distance.
Today is Thursday and I ran just 3 miles on Monday night and 6 miles last night (I had targeted 5 but kept going at an easy pace for the last mile. Next week I'll be in NH and my goal is to bike or run every day. We'll see how that goes.
On June 16 I completed race #8, bringing me one step closer to guaranteed entry for 2009 (The idea that I can plan so far in advance is staggering). This race was definitely one for the record books. Firstly, the night before, I drank two beers and shared a bag of corn chips with Dan Cohen. On top of that, I went to bed later than I had planned. I knew it was stupid but Dan had called early in the week and I felt bad turning down his invitation. Dumb, dumb dumb.
The lesson: training and running needs to come first. Especially above eating poorly and not sleeping.
I didn't feel that bad in the morning but I was definitely anxious. Getting up, I moved a bit slower and ended up getting to the train a few minutes later than I expected. I didn't think it would be a problem, especially seeing all the other runners on the platform. Until, of course, I got the urge to go to the bathroom.
The train didn't come. Five, ten 20 minutes passed. It was now one hour to race time and I was still in Brooklyn. Finally, it came. Then, I discovered that the C line was not running. Now the time is really ticking away. Other runners are getting on the train. It's moving slowly. I'm in a panic.
We finally arrive at 72nd street and I make a mad dash to the baggage drop off. The announcer is calling "one minute until the corrals close" and I realize I will not be able to go to the bathroom. Or drink.
And that's when the humidity hit me: 93 percent. The water was hanging in the air and I needed to drink or risk a whole host of problems. I dropped my bag and sprinted to my corral, almost pushing people out of the way. Standing there nervous, late, thirsty in a pool of sweat was not the way it was supposed to be. Then, I started to see the survivors of prostate cancer scattered throughout the crow of runners. One woman was running alongside her father who beat the disease.
I figured I just needed to finish. Forget the time. Just finish. Drink at every mile. It'll count as long as I make it across the finish line. What's five miles?? Anyone could do that?? Right??
Then the familiar, headless and faceless voice of Peter Chacha gave us our final instructions. And we were off. I grabbed a cup of water as I passed the starting line and kept going. And going. And going, passing people who looked to be in much better shape. About one mile in, I started to approach a man with one leg wearing arm braces. At first I thought it was a rogue runner who had just jumped into the race. As I drew closer, I turned to see if he had a number on his chest. To my complete amazement, he was wearing a number, and looking for the same sense of accomplishment as I was. Other runners started cheering. I almost broke down in tears. It was heartwarming.
The miles past and I kept running and drinking. About half a mile from the finish line, I knew it was over and opened the throttle. Using the last burst of energy I had left, I blew across the finish line at full speed. I was soaking wet down through my socks.
Conclusions: I prefer running in the cold; I need to better prepare for these races; I have come a long way.
Later in the week, I ran as follows:
6/16: 1 mile
6/18: 3 miles at full speed; sprinting for at least 1 mile.
6/20: 10.05 miles (3 laps) in Prospect Park
6/21: 30 miles on my bike
So, for the week ending on 6/21, I completed a total of 19.05 miles running, 49.05 miles of self-powered distance.
Today is Thursday and I ran just 3 miles on Monday night and 6 miles last night (I had targeted 5 but kept going at an easy pace for the last mile. Next week I'll be in NH and my goal is to bike or run every day. We'll see how that goes.
Here are the numbers for Race #8:
WABC Fight/Prostate Cancer
Distance: 5.0 Miles, 8 Kilometers
Date/Time: June 15, 2008, 8:30am
Location: Central Park, NYC
Weather: 70 Deg. 93% Hum. Wind 5 MPH
Overall Place: 2523
Gender Place: 2024
Age Place: 303
Finish Time: 44:26
Split Time:
Pace/Mile: 8:53
AG Time: 41:03
AG Gender Place: 1971
AG%: 51.9%
Total Finishers: Men – 3460 Women – 2051 Total – 5511
Age Group 40-44: Men – 497 Women – 205 Total – 702
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