Ahhh, New York! The city that never sleeps! Or whatever… After a nearly 3 year hiatus, I finally sojourned back to the site of many a past adventure (a certain early morning walk of shame through the Puerto Rican Day parade comes to mind – don’t worry, it was in college) and home to the only bagels I will ever find acceptable.
The reason for my visit? The 2012 NYC Half Marathon.
A high school friend and I discovered last fall that we were both preparing for our first marathons – her, NYC, and Philly for me. Since then, we’ve travelled together to Austin for the 3M Half in January and entered the lottery for this half together, as well. She didn’t get in, but I made the journey anyway and had the best cheerleader in the world in the process.
As I got on the train at Newark airport on Friday evening, I realized I kinda miss the East Coast – no one got up to give me their seat and no one gave me the stink eye when I pushed past them to run for the train. It was awesome. I hate when guys in Texas get up to give me their seat or wait for me to enter the elevator. Its patronizing. Dude, I can stand. I’m a big girl. I’m strong. Plus, I can always use a little extra calorie burn. I am still a girl, after all.
ANYWAY… yada yada yada, fun weekend, fast forward to Sunday morning.
The start line was at the bottom of Central Park, around 64th, but, LUCKY ME, I had to trudge all the way up to 89th and Madison because I got nailed by the race organizers, NYRR, for at one point trying to sell my bib on Craigslist (when I first found out my friend could not run the race). I was told at the expo on Saturday that if I wanted to run, I needed to come to the NYRR office between 6 and 6:30 am to get my bib and be escorted to the starting corral. What were they going to do, hold my hand while I waited in an epic porta potty line? I was steaming mad, mostly because I clearly did not fly all the way from Tex-ass to sell a $128 bib, and the fact that they set up an e-mail sting to catch me, and couldn’t be adult enough to identify themselves as NYRR officials in the process chapped my ass even more. I spent the rest of the afternoon stomping around Union Square and cursing the bitch who I assumed would be tailing me to the starting line. But fuck it if I wasn’t going to show up the next morning, cheery as can be, and prove that I was running.
As a consequence of my crime, I had to drag myself out of bed an extra half hour early. We caught a cab uptown, where the bitch from the day before greeted me – “OHHHH, Texas, I remember you” – and went to find my bib. Others were there picking up bibs, but I was clearly the only criminal, as my bib was in a special binder filled to the brim with the e-mails of other folks just trying to get their money back. I am pretty sure that I am the only person who’s bib was in that binder who actually showed up to run.
The lady was telling everyone that they could leave if they had their bib. I put the d-tag on my shoe and started to cautiously back out the front door. Not so fast. She pointed her finger at me – “You. Not you. Come here.” I was prepared to be shackled and chained to this woman for the next hour when she leaned in, pointed at my friend who came with me, and goes, “Does she want to run? I can give her a bib. I’m offering. Does she want to run?” After assuring her my friend was injured, she sent us on our way with a cheery, “Good luck! Have fun! Don’t do it again!” What. The. FUCK.
Central Park was a zoo, and the porta potties were clearly lacking. I waited over a half hour in line, freezing my ass off, and then scurried off to my corral. I had put down an estimated finish time of 2 hours, and was in the 13,000s – about the middle. The race directors spoke and Desiree Davila and Meb too, which was cool. Then, off we went. And by we, I mean the fast assholes at the front. I had to wait another 19 mins to cross the starting line.
I was impressed by the corrals, as everyone around me was running a similar pace. I knew Central Park had some bitch hills, and so I paced myself, trying to stay at around a 9:15-9:30 pace. I was planning to make up time after we left the park, as the remainder of the course was fast and flat. I actually did ok, despite the hills. There was only one, around Harlem, that really knocked me out. The rest were rollers, similar to the ones along Memorial Drive and Allen Parkway, and I’ve run those before. I exited the park right after the 10k mark at 57:05, right on target (ps that's me in the orange pullover and black compression socks).
The course went down 7th Ave, through Times Square, and then made a right hand turn onto 42nd Street, which we rode all the way to the West Side highway. Those 2 miles through the heart of the city flew by, and I had my fastest split at mile 7 (8:49). But I was looking for a porta potty at this point, and had to stop. I grabbed a fucking SICK ASS one by the med tent just before the turn onto the WSH, and was in and out in about a minute. In retrospect, I should have manned up and held it. Or peed on myself. Whatever.
The humidity that morning was apparently at 90%, which makes sense now, since I could barely get my compression shorts back in place. That was another 30 seconds lost.
I hit the WSH and settled in for the last 5 miles. At about mile 9, I was not doing well. I felt nauseous, and my hip flexors and glutes were screaming at me. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of stopping for fluids – even water sounded horrible to me. I forced a GU Chomp down with some water around mile 10, just to get something in my stomach. This did not help.
We finally started getting close, and yippy freakin skippy, about ¾ of mile 12 were through an underpass. At this point I was barely holding on to my sub-2 goal at around a 9:11 pace, and the tunnel was so claustrophobic and creepy – I thought I was picking up the pace, when my splits say a different story. We made it out, crested one last hill, and entered the narrowest part of the course. Even if I had wanted to sprint, I wouldn’t have been able. It was so crowded. Just look at the finish:
So yeah, official time was 2:01:18. That 1:18 could have been from stopping to stretch my hammy around mile 9, walking through a water stop at 10, and of course, the pee break. Such a puss, I am. I was kind of pissed. I didn’t expect to PR here, but when I saw sub-2 in reach midway through, I got a bit excited. I just didn’t have it in me that day, I guess.
yeah lady, I feel your pain
Overall, a pretty decent race. I was not a fan of the last 5 miles. I understand the logistical nightmare of closing down streets for a half marathon, but the West Side Highway? REALLY? That’s boring, mid-tier race shit. When you come to NYC to race, and pay $128 in the process, you should get a bit more of NYC besides 2 miles through midtown. The park is pretty, but whatever.
Medal was kinda shitty, no idea what was in the swag bags since I never got mine, and didn’t go to the post race festival. Grabbed my burrito blanket and snuck out through a gap in the fence to meet my parents, go back uptown and shop at Barney’s. Rough freakin life, right?
Next step will be some speed work this summer. I’m guessing I’ll try and do the Houston Half in October, and Philly full in November. The summer is out because of heat, and I don’t want to travel too much, in order to save vacation for my wedding. I learned some valuable lessons in this race, and while it sucked and it hurt, I’m already itching to fix the mistakes I made.
