Tuesday at noon marks the opening of registration for the TNF Endurance Challenge series. I'm sure that the Bear Mountain race will not sell out any time soon, but my usual bouncing excitement means I need to git-r-done so that I may hope for an inkling of attention span at work.
Yesterday's run was back in the Palisades, my weekly home away from home. I made it about a mile further than I have before on foot, so that my turnaround was at the base of Alpine Hill. It's fun to reach distances on my own that previously were reached by bicycle. Since the write-up for my need-it-to-graduate capstone project is in super overdrive, today (and perhaps the next handful of posts) will be on the shorter side. Since some have previously inquired as to where I run, here's a 3-part map of yesterday (from www.gmap-pedometer.com). In the coming month or two I hope to make it up Alpine Hill to tag the end of the Palisades Road where it ends at the highway just a tad off the top of this map.
I must admit, the fact that I needed to make three maps to fit it all in clearly (since I was using simple screen shots) makes it feel rather satisfying. And below is the elevation profile for the start through the turnaround at mile 10.6, so everything that is run up must then be run down and vice versa. If the Palisades Road were flat then I wouldn't return to it so often. Between miles two and three is invalid, as that is on the George Washington Bridge which for some reason never registers with the correct elevation.
Update 1/28: Placing my bib on my upper thigh made sense when prepping for the run, but it turns out that I selected the wrong thigh. The photographers all stood on the opposite side of the route. So no mid-run goodness. But, there is at least a shot of me having just passed the finish line.
Bottom left: purple shirt, blue hat, and big smile on my face.
The Manhattan Half was downgraded from a race to a fun run this year thanks to NYC's first real snow of the season. Meaning no one is officially timed, no corrals are used for the start, no pressure to run. On that last point, everyone who registered for the race gets credit regardless of whether or not they participated. Similarly, you can run as much or as little of the race-now-run as you'd like. All aid stations and ambulance posts would remain, and a few police automobiles made sweeps to assure no one was stuck without help if needed.
In this week's lead-up, a handful of people registered for the race through Team In Training came into my current PT clinic (a very runner/triathlon/active person oriented orthopedic clinic) for overuse injuries wrought from training. The hot topic was always weather predictions. Wednesday predicted a 5:00 a.m. low of 27 degrees, an afternoon high of 36 degrees, and a 70% chance of "wintery mix" as yet unspecified as to time of descent. As one might guess from my previous Catskills ice rehash blog, the presence of ice of any sort would preclude my participation. I've had enough history with my knees and would prefer to not add ACL rupture into the mix, thank you very much. Somehow didn't occur to me at the time that the race might be canceled if it were that bad.
The end result became 3-5 inches of snow and only snow through 10:00 a.m., after which a light freezing rain would progress to the aforedetested wintery mix. [Yes, I proudly made that up, red dotted underscore be damned.] Since my anticipated slower race time would still beat the ick, I opted turn it into a normal long run so that after crossing the finish I'd simply continue running the 4.5 miles home.
Turned out perfect. Here's a Flickr photo of the start I found via search (with full credit to the photo's owner, 52 Projects). Running in the snow is wonderfully exhausting. The wind was something of 10 mph from the north, for which the two jaunt's heading north along the east half of the main Central Park loop resulted in icicles along my eyelashes despite the ball cap. Others wearing beanies had full-faced icing reminiscent of a white haired Groucho Marx if half his eyebrows fell onto his lashes. I was able to melt them pretty quickly by holding the back of my gloved thumb across my eye for a few seconds.
By the second lap the pre-race "attempt" to plow a path was filling in and becoming sloppy, as expected. Central Park's small hills became much more tedious for my hamstrings. Amazingly I only had one partial second of sliding that was more a glitch than a potential fall. The snow and only snow proved to allow my trail shoes ample purchase regardless of how thick or thin the ground coverage. I remembered that these shoes, the Brooks Cascadia 5, were a little stiff for my liking on the trail, but I forgot how much they tear up my feet for longer runs. This I also felt during second lap, though only mildly.
By the start of the south end's 1 mile mini-loop toward the finish line on the 72nd street traverse, race directors stood along the sides with megaphones saying everyone should head to the finish line regardless of what loop you were on. Apparently the northern portion, like Harlem Hill, was getting precarious and they did not want slower runners to continue. The state of my hamstrings led to consideration of taking the subway home, but the thought of no longer running and thus cooling off quickly in the 15 degree wind chill did not sound appealing. I figured I'd run north through the park, where I at least knew the state of the roads, and hop out and onto a train if and when necessary.
By the time I got to 96th street I realized that the uphills were the killing factor for my hammies. I left the park at 100th street to avoid a third bout of Harlem Hill and found the Central Park West sidewalks to be runnable so continued on. The wintery mix had started, but it was rather light with a good base of snow, so I figured I'd make Iowa proud and just keep heading home. Who needs to take the subway for a mere 2 miles when you're already running in the same direction anyways? (Don't answer that....)
Once a half mile from home alongside City College, I was atop the hill that is Hamilton Heights/West Harlem and feeling the respective wind. My hands were not burning thanks to a recent running mitten purchase, but I still had no ability to form any grasp necessary to zip my jacket. A man happened to be entering the college with a toddler, and he nicely helped me get my jacket zipper started despite my having creeped him out with such a request.
Once home I was exhausted though pleasantly smug that I had no falls and no injuries. Definitely the most effortful long run I've had since the marathon in November. I removed my shoes and socks only to find a nice blood blister on the inside of my left big toe mound. Sweet. My year and a half old alien toenail baby throbbed. Rockin'. At least the latter never hurts while receiving shoe trauma, only after. Add a hot shower, kittehs holding down my legs and hot drinks. Cue supremo satisfaction.
You know you're jealous of my fancy pants.
The math for my average pace during the half marathon as compared to the hamstring rehash slog home is quite telling. Race average: 7:52 per mile. Slog home: 9:22 per mile. Oddly enough, I was relieved to be home and yet realized I could continue further had I needed. Preferably with a change of shoes, but that is none the matter. Wait, what's the proper syntax for "none the matter"? Whatever. I'm too pooped care right now.
If any photos from NYRR's usual race documenting crew turn out then I'll update this entry and post them here. Taking bets on how red my face is from being pelted with snow. I'm guessing no less than magenta.
According to Blogger metrics, as of 1:45 p.m. today I am at 987 views in total for this blog. Pretty soon I will hit 1000 views -- and yet ZERO comments!
Come on, people. Get excited! Do I really need to finish each entry with "So what is your opinion? What do you think about blah-de-blah-blah?" I assumed that since comments are available to give then it was understood that comments are welcome and desired, but perhaps I assumed too much. A note to those who are less familiar with the Blogger-sphere: you do not have to use your name when leaving comments if you so wish (e.g. I could use Bucky instead of my real name), and the email it requests for response sake does is not posted (only the administrator -- me -- sees your email).
I've been running consistently for the last two years. For two or three yeas prior to that I stopped running, for both my mind and my knee's sake, and I always felt like I somehow missed winter. I commuted through the cold and muck each day unless limited by ankle deep snow, but it wasn't the same. The magic little bubble you create around yourself, the cold air in your lungs, the quiet on the roads and the calm shared by you and the few other winter participants you come across.... It is wonderful. Give me black ice and I am, admittedly, swearing up a storm and cursing the world, but that is unique to ice and just coincidentally occurs during winter. Anyways, it was nice.
I went through my photos from 2011 and pulled out the small handful for which I particularly like the results, regardless of whether I tried for those results or whether I just got lucky. One photo is reposted from before. The pool of photos was smaller than I wish, a factor of the attention required by school mixed with the decreasing interest for the city. I'm looking forward to the rest of this winter and spring for the transitions that will take place and, hopefully, for the reclamation of such hobbies.
The Raymond Naftali Center (Chelsea, NYC, 2011)
Heather and baby Sid (Morningside Heights, NYC, 2011)
What would make me post twice in one day? Tomorrow are the Olympic Marathon Trials in Houston, TX!! I'm obviously not racing, and I can't actually watch the races take place, but I am nonetheless bouncing off the walls in excitement.
What I love about this year is that the women's race is getting LOTS of attention. Analysts have said in previous Trials the top three -- i.e. those going on to the Olympics -- were basically guaranteed before the race started based on qualifying times so long as everyone had a decent day. This further meant that any woman running a 2hr 30min or faster was basically guaranteed a spot so long as they continued to train. The Trials then became a race rather than a time trial; the group sets a comfortable pace and you duke it out in the end to set the spots. Then whoever gets to go on to the Olympics didn't waste a boatload of energy trying to get there for a certain time.
This year at eight women -- eight! -- have posted at or better than 2:30. So this year its a true race, and they all know it. I'm pulling with all my heart for my Lady Ds: Desiree Davila (interview) and Deena Kastor (interview). (Cue bouncing.)
Also of interest are top qualifiers Shalane Flanagan (interview), Amy Hastings, and Kara Goucher (interview). Then there's one of my local favorites, Kelly Chin, and the super awesome ultra runner Meghan Arbogast (she's over 50 years old -- hot stuff!). Another ultra runner, Kami Semick, qualified but is not running. I was also really hoping to cheer for Buzunesh Deba -- she placed a close second at the 2011 NYC Marathon and is also a home town hero hailing from the Bronx, but turns out she is Ethiopian. I hope her 2nd place finish earns her a spot on the undoubtedly competitive Ethiopian team for the London games.
On the men's side I'm following the awesome pro roadster Meb Keflezighi and the ultra runner Michael Wardian, who if you recall my race rundown from the TNF KC 50k is the pro who blasted through the course in just over 3 hours.
According to the New York Road Runners website, the Trials will be televised tomorrow afternoon from 3-5pm Eastern/2-4pm Central time on NBC.
Last Sunday was spent day hiking in the Catskills. John was able to borrow a friend's car, Nathan had the day off from work (hark!), it was my last day before starting affiliation 3 -- 'twas set to be a magnificent day spent outdoors on rock stairwells going up and down and up and down. Just my kind of time away.
We had a three hour car ride to ponder the day. With about an hour to go John crooned that we could expect "thirty degrees and not a cloud in the sky." Hmm. My assessments before packing made it look like a 40 degree day, which is much different. My pack held a ball cap and a beanie, down sweater, agile gloves, wool long underwear, extra socks, lunch, a full 2-liter Camelbak, my point and shoot digital camera, headlamp with working batteries, toiletry back-ups and necessary wallet items. I thought about this a little longer, realizing I was already a little chilled in the car. Cue wool long johns added to my person. (Learning to change quickly and efficiently in the backseat of a car in high school through all the sports/dance/activity changes still comes in quite handy.) As we rolled into the park area and wound through the roads to our trail head the temperature dropped another ten degrees. Add beanie and gloves, prep bag so that we can get moving fast to build body heat.
After about ten minutes the trail finally starts climbing for real, fingers are still a bit cold but my circulation is building. We came across an overlook where slate pieces were stacked into a structures such as a stairwell (to where we could not tell) and a "room" with multiple chairs. You can see it in the YouTube video. Not too much longer we hear cracking ice as we near a pond. I slowed thinking it was a large animal on the other side of the pond dipping a paw or hoof repeatedly. Turned out to be the ice cracking from the sun. A beaver presence was nonetheless heavily present. John noted the craftsmanship and resulting texture of the wood from the beavers' work, handing Nathan a long stick as an example.
A frozen beaver pond, and Nathan's new stick friend.
Pretty sure these beavers are better organized that many humans could ever be.
Nathan and the stick became fast friends, so much so that he brought it with for the rest
of the hike. Reminded me of my brother Sam when he was a little
tyke. If he was into a new toy he'd end up cradling in his sleep for
half the week.
From there the trail curved around the lake and led upwards. Small bits of ice were evident between rocks here and there, but nothing seemed all that significant. I may have grown up in Missouri's ice filled winters and attended undergrad at Iowa (which, admittedly, is more powder than ice), but I sure as hell do *not* get along with ice. Get that? That's N-O-T. At all. I am on fall precautions around ice, quadruply so if its black ice. I made a joke referring to this to explain my odd trajectory choices to John, and Nathan proclaimed he never worries about ice after growing up in the Syracuse area.
And then the comedic gods aligned.
*Slip*shuffle*boom*, Nathan was on his butt. I had the pleasure of witnessing the entire event without a blink. Legs slipped forward and to the right, landing semi-mermaid on the outside of his left thigh after bonking a knee on the way down. But the stick? Held aloft so that it never hit the ground. "Don't worry, guys, the stick is okay."
Nathan used the stick the entire time, alternating between a substitute for Stretch Armstrong arms and taking it for a walk like the habit of many a cane user. (Insert finger wag for those who know they should use their assistive device properly but do not.) John and I preferred bilateral hand grabs on the trees and rocks. The vertical had become quite fun, more a hand-over-foot stairwell. We were gaining elevation fast, and yet so was the amount of ice around us. There's one shot in the video of where the ice was enough that I pulled out the camera. After that it continued to thicken into solid ice around us, though with plenty of rocks or brush sticking out for foot holds. The temperature felt like it was dropping, and using my hands on so many cold boulders took them from chilly to cold to burning very quickly.
I don't know if the true peak was marked or if it was on a slightly different route, but we did pass a sign once things flattened out that was quite satisfying (for an east coaster with proximity issues, that is):
Atop Sugarloaf Mountain.
And at 3500 feet, this was the view of the neighboring hills:
Scenic view from 3500 feet.
The temperature dropped further, in part from the elevation but in part due to quick-collecting cloud cover. We saw one or two snow flakes, wondered if it was from the air dealing with moisture content more than true precipitation. The ice underfoot, however, became a steady path that swathed the entire trail. The surrounding vegetation was thick enough that we could not move through anywhere aside from the trail, so we forced ourselves through pine branches and sought whatever bits of snow may have existed atop the ice. I think we covered a half mile in thirty minutes to get to our intended scenic view on the other side of Sugarloaf. My hands were on fire from the cold. I stopped and pulled out the down sweater. It's hard enough to hike with your hands tucked into your pockets, let alone when you are on fall precaution and atop a lobular, multi-inch thick ice slab.
Here's where the "Aha!" moment struck. Multiple warm days into the 50s and 60s, lots of melting, followed by 24 hours that went sub-freezing. Ooooh, right, it is January and we are winter hiking. Another blonde moment of genius added to the list. But to my credit, all three of us were fooled by the previous week to a certain degree -- no Microspikes, no emergency blankets, only one stove between us (John's), only two headlamps between us (John's and mine), no extra warm descent mittens.
And then that damn stick. Nathan would wait for me to catch up, as I had transformed from the quickest to the weakest link, then walk behind me for a bit, probably assessing for mental changes. Then I'd see the stick sliding along the ice, creeping past me from behind. If Nathan were to have fallen again, he'd need a twelve foot radius for that damn stick. So having it pull a classless pass -- think those who call "LEFT!" on a public track for no other reason than to gloat over their speed -- made me even less at ease. I told him to keep clear of me with that stick, so he'd shuffle and hop along the ice like it was nothing until he was out of sight (meaning about 40 feet ahead).
For those of you familiar with the swishy sound of synthetic outerwear when moving really fast, you may substitute this for the forthcoming onomatopoeia: *swish*swish*shweee*shploop*, then silence.... John: "You okay?" Nathan: "Yea, I landed on my abdomen." John: "How's the stick?" Nathan: "It's fine. I think I bruised my elbow..." Kinda sad I missed seeing that one, but I was just fine with my slow and cautious pace.
The top of Sugarloaf is worn into a soft curve, much like the tops of
nearby mountains you can see from the pictures. Our route would make
one big loop, and at this point we were traversing the top of Sugarloaf
from a southern-ish to northern-ish exposure, simultaneously doubling
the amount of ice and adding a strong, cold wind and some flurries to
the equation. Just when I was about to get despondent we found the teenie path to the overlook marking the midway point of our route.
From the halfway point across the top of Sugarloaf Mtn., >3500 feet.
The wind removed most niceties about the view. Not quite enough pine in the
right growth pattern to make a wall against the wind unless you were
small enough, i.e. the size of a little terrier, to squeeze through the
inner forest. John make quick tea so we'd have something warm to drink
while we ate. I wasn't even hungry, but if I was going to stay warm
then adding calories would be pinnacle. It would only take one more
shift towards true winter conditions for our fun day hike to turn into
straight up survival mode. I also added my second layer of socks, tucked in my shirts, and marched in place until we were able to get moving.
We picked up the main trail and continued to crawl along the route as planned. Temperature dropped more, wind picked up more. Eventually we struck a natural boulder stairwell where the trail starts a long and steep descent. Aside from the large boulder obstructing our view beyond the first drop-off, it was ice about a foot thick with few trees to assist us. In the forest to each side offered a similar drop-off with ice layered atop the snow. Nathan thinks we can make it down. I think it is imminent death since we are without crampons and ropes. Cue muttering about the damn stick and cavalier invincibility. John pulls out the map to see if distance is a factor at this point. We had to factor in the remaining daylight, which was just enough to backtrack our ascent route but only if we left immediately. My mind was now in full on survival mode -- I am going to be at my clinic at 6:45 a.m. come hell or high water, f***ers. I hurled myself to the other side of the trail to get a view beyond the first boulder, and I saw at least 30 feet of an ice climbing route in place of the trail. No way in hell. I called made the executive decision, and if my voice didn't somehow convey it then my face surely did.
The hike back across the top of Sugarloaf to the southern-ish exposure was pretty much like the first pass, though we crawled at perhaps .1mph faster since we were more determined. The little elevation changes were down this time, so the trees became our friends while we got onto our butts to ease and/or slide our way down various passes. It all looked incredibly different from this direction, so we didn't remember what obstacles we'd have to tackle in reverse -- though we knew everything was guaranteed to be better than that potential reverse ice climb sans tools. Nathan still -- still! -- used his stick while grabbing trees with the other hand. My hands finally stopped burning since they got to participate for an hour on mostly trees rather than cold rock.
I did not realize I had no photo or video documentation of the Sugarloaf ice flows until we made it back to the true descent. What passed as tricky before was now downgraded to a pretty decoration, and only then did my camera even occur to me. Probably better off that way, lest I'd have dropped it down the ice flow of doom due to painfully frozen and clumsy hands. We were now out of the wind and into "warmer" temperatures, and we estimated that matching our ascension pace would give a 15 minute leeway before it was dark. Off we went. I was in a much better mood and no longer fearing for my life. Nathan let us talk about things other than the stick, though we still teased him about it.
When we got back to the beaver pond, it looked like true winter returned while we were nearly getting stuck atop a mountain.
Beaver pond, late afternoon.
We passed the slate cliff-side modular hang out and were nearly back to the car when we spotted a gnome, face pointing towards Sugarloaf, body en route with the trail towards the car. It was not there on the hike in. A local may have a sense of humor, but really I think he's smiling that we didn't get our asses handed to us in a self-induced emergency situation. Plus, the slightly underprepared blonde on fall precautions did not, in fact, have any fall or any threat of a fall. So there.
Mr. Gnome.
We made it to the car with no problems. After the few minutes needed to pack up and roll out we already needed headlights. Luuuucky....
I left out the video I took of Nathan putting the stick into the car to bring home, largely because you couldn't tell the significance of the stick unless you heard the story. And the only video of the way down was a small shot from when I noted my hands had warmed up again and I no longer felt like death was imminent. John's reaction had been "This? You're videoing this???" Quite the understatement.
Ran to Queens this morning for my usual Saturday yoga appointment. Decided to traverse Central Park and the Queensboro bridge rather than the Triboro/Randall's Island route. Turned out there was a 10k race in the park, and it started just after I entered the main loop around the race's 1 mile point.
I've run next to races before. It's quite fun, really. You stay to the outside of the loop, outside the orange cones, and everyone's adrenaline fury in the inside lanes makes your weekend run feel that much more calm. (It is particularly entertaining to encounter men who do not climb the CP "hills" well, and they grunt and sputter and turn their faces beet red trying to keep up with the damn female that's not even in the race, but that is its own discussion of A-type New Yorkers.)
This time promised to be unique, in that I'd get to watch the local elites as the caught and passed me a few miles further. And, considering the timing, I thought I'd be able to see at least the first female as well. They never get enough credit in smaller races like this since the men and women all start at the same time, so I always love to watch for them and scream out "FIRST WOMAN!" while encouraging them further. That was also the fun of the Bronx and Staten Island half marathon I last ran in 2010, since they each have an out-and-back route and you get to see all the elites heading back towards the finish before you make your own turnaround.
[For those of you who do not know, typing in all capitals equates to
yelling, even without the exclamation point. So good ol' Uncle Jim who
types everything in all caps? Yup. He's yelling and he hasn't a clue.]
As I neared 72nd street four race-affiliated cyclists had already passed clearing the route from other park users and I heard the lead car coming up behind me. I turned to watch them pass, only to see an off-leash, overweight, waddling little daschund unknowingly tattering across the road mere feet in front of the lead car. The car stopped with plenty of space, but they assumed the dog would finish crossing the road or would get startled and go back to its owner. Assumed being the key word....
I and three other non-racing runners stopped to call the dog to us or even try to pick it up and carry it away. The poor little fella waddled 180 degrees and started zig zagging back the other way. The car thought the little fella was passed and out of the way, but really it was headed under one of the tires. The dog zigged (or zagged?) twice more. We at least made sure the lead runner -- who I can only assume was the ultimate winner Chase Pizzonia, considering how far he was ahead of the others -- could pass without hitting the dog, after which finally got the little fella over to its owner who stood there dazed and hadn't helped a bit.
Hey you, mister careless owner, there are laws allowing leashless hours but they assume that you are able to keep your dog out of trouble.
Let me put this another way -- it was not the fault of the little fella, a being that inately is without reasoning and does not understand the constraints of a human-derived race nor the imminent death associated with running in front of a moving vehicle. It was the owner's fault, which is the same way that many dogs and/or specific breeds get a bad reputation. F***ers. Pardon my "french"....
I decided to make a more formal running log for this year using Excel, so that I can track weekly mileage and accumulated shoe mileage on a daily basis to make it much less taxing to evaluate later. How do I know it would be taxing to wait to analyze? I first went through my calendar where everything was recorded very simply for each day (time, distance, workout type and location) but no cumulative values were created until now. None of the numbers are surprising to me so it likely will not influence the coming year by much, but it will be interesting to compare global stats of 2011 to 2012 at this point next year. Here's what I have found...
Total yearly distance running: 1583.2 mi
Walking distance for June 13 to Dec.: 535.5 mi
Latest pair of road shoes, worn Oct. 18 to today: 327.7 mi (totaling 43h 20m 20s)
Latest pair of walking shoes, worn Aug. 1 to today: 412.3 mi
And now for fancy mileage graphs. (Excel ain't got nothin' on me. Hazzah!) The dark lines indicate values for running, while the lighter lines indicate those for walking. You'll notice that the aforementioned walking distance only covered the latter half of the year -- I did not keep track until the middle of June, unfortunately.
I laughed when I realized that my Jan, Feb, and Sept monthly running mileages ranged from 105 to 123, which is the same number of miles elite professionals will run per week. They also don't keep track of walking, because all their training occurs at a running pace.
But! When considering a) the absence of knee injury beyond normal upkeep and b) what I consider to be successful races, I have to say that training "like an old person" has treated me quite well. I use cutsie quotes because there are runners in their 60s who regularly knock out twice my weekly mileage while running a full minute per mile faster than me. They show up to each race, though I cannot pick them out of the crowd until looking at the race stats after the fact. I hope to join their club later in life, cause they are friggin' inspiring to me. The only trouble will be keeping up....
Nathan surprised me with baking stone and a sleek running jacket as congratulations for completing the didactic portion of my degree. Super sweet. Completely unexpected.
Naturally, I ran out the next day for baking supplies. The nerd in me wishes I had literally run to the grocery store wearing the new jacket, but the trial run of the jacket has to wait until the current warm spell moves on and temperatures drop below 35 degrees again. But, the baking had a plan that could not be derailed by weather. Our New Year's Eve plan included the NYRR Midnight 4-miler fun run in Central Park, with pre- and post-race spent with our good friend John. Same plan as last year, slightly smaller crowd. John planned to make a hearty soup, so my party offering became homemade soup-friendly bread and crostatas (barely sweet mini-pie looking things). I also made scones because I wanted to have a few at home but offer the rest to John, because he really is a good soul and makes a wonderful "locker room" manager. Twas my second time making bread, which good improvements on that first loaf, and my first time making scones and crust. Success! Saturday afternoon became quite a bakefest. The results:
No knead peasant bread, cinnamon pecan currant cream scones and pear crostatas, all with whole wheat flour.
The run was fun. Lots of costumes (Angry Birds, shiny/sequined/glittery folks, an Empire State Building, a Banana, mostly naked but for a loin cloth and carefully placed race bib...), way too many shuffle runners, WAY too many walkers blocking the route six abreast, but all good spirits and minimal to no alcohol-related puking/falling over. I am a very light drinker these days, and saved my one beer until after the race. Many show up sloshed, hence the shuffle runners, but that is expected and welcomed so long as people are somewhat smart about it. There are also no timing chips, no corrals at the start, and bib numbers are assigned by the order people sign up rather than by expected pace. Since John lives so close to the race's start we opted to delay leaving until 10 minutes before the race and join in at the rear of the pack. This made it more crowded in terms of runners, taking 15 minutes for us to simply cross the start line (three times as long as the longest-awaiting starter of the NYC Marathon!) what with the five thousand tipsy folk ahead of us, but it seemed less claustrophobic than last year thanks to no blizzard-mounded snow narrowing the available space.
Nathan and I were our usual simple runner selves. John dressed as a Groucho Marx-esque monkey, Kris had celebratory shiny gold tights, and Ashton ran in just his underwear, dapper socks with garters and his wing tip leather shoes. For reference, Ashton was more normal than his first appearance in the race two years ago where he wore his underwear, boating shoes and a hat shaped as a cow head.
John and Nathan at the start.
I ran with my camera and took many videos while hot footing through the crowd. Somehow the camera made it seem much less crowded than it actually was. My good friend Laura I. and her boyfriend watched from near the Met, so I got a quick hug just before finishing the first mile. After I finished I walked back through the crowds to get some video of finishers. Managed to catch Kris, Ashton and Nathan. After the two yellow Angry Birds, watch in the middle for gold tights with a dark pink top (Kris) immediately followed by a naked skinny guy with sock garters and his arms in the air in the back (Ashton), and 10 seconds later a black shirt with yellow detail and shorts in the back (Nathan). Here's my experience surrounding the race:
In retrospect of 2011, I am heartened by the many small accomplishments. I ran my first marathon in a time I am very proud of, finished two 50k ultramarathons and confirmed my love for distance pursuits, my intellectual ability to be done with school caught up to the emotional want to be done (meaning confidence in my abilities as a future therapist), realized why and how I need humor and certain types of people in my life, and developed a genuine life projection that I have never been capable of previously. All good things.
Looking forward to 2012, my only New Year's resolution is to return my fruit and veggie consumption to an amount for which I prefer. This will be easier thanks to less school obligations following me home. More seriously, I have many events to look forward to this year: hopefully running a 50 mile race in May, wearing a robe with a silly hat and having my degree placed in my hot and eager hand, hopefully passing the licensure exam in July, and relocating to Colorado next fall. Since our moving plans have been pushed back due to a handful of logistics we'll be here for the NYC Marathon on November 4th, so I am debating participating again because I can. And I'll be an aunt come February. I have crazy big aunt shoes to fill considering the example set by my aunt Meredyth while she was alive.
Best wishes to you all for this coming year and beyond!
