Two trashed hamstrings, one alien toenail baby, one blood blister, icicles for eyelashes, graspless hands, and 17.5 miles later - Manhattan Half race report

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.