NYC Half 2013 race report

Another runner while waiting for the start joked "Why did we think it was a good idea to stand in the cold?"

"This is my third year in a row," I responded.  "You'd think I'd have learned by now."

It was five minutes yet until the race started but we had been in our corrals for at least 25 minutes.  Sunrise technically happened though offered no radiant heat solution to 30 degree temperatures that supposedly felt like twenty-two.  Shivers ran up and down the masses much like a herd of cattle swatting their tails.  I had, at least, worn two leaf-size plastic bags this year -- one as a sleeveless shirt and one as a skirt that covered my feet.  I was shivering too, but this year I didn't start out with frozen feet.  I also had timed my arrival as perfectly as public transit can allow, seamlessly exiting the train and entering my corral in the nick of time before they closed at 7:00 a.m., minimizing my wait in the cold.  I jumped straight into a bathroom line (a dozen latrines flanked every corral), which gave me a pre-performance-pee at 7:21.  Re-tied my shoes after the national anthem, and ditched the plastic outerwear just as the gun went off before my corral was able to move.

That whole lineup kicked off what I feel was a tactically successful day.  The NYC Half was its own race with the possibility of besting my half marathon time, but it was also my tune-up race for next month's Boston Marathon.  Usually I run for fun in the winter, see where I happen to fall during my first half marathon of the year, and increase from there.   This was the first time I trained with intent for a longer race amid the cold and occasional snow, and with the biggest unknown of how much working full time was going to affect my performance.  There was a lot riding on this race to validate or defunct the last 3 months of training.

The course was the same as last year.  Start on the Central Park loop at west 64th Street, just over one counter clockwise loop, exit the part onto 7th Ave, head south to Times Square, west on 42nd Street, south on the West Side Highway, and a small jaunt around the tip of Battery Park to finish by the South Street Seaport.

About a half hour in, my stomach developed a small, dull ache that could go one of two ways.  It could be muscular and related to a tight hip flexor, in which case it was spreading to my rectus abdominis (which has happened a while back in a few long runs).  It could also be visceral and my actual stomach cramping with associated referred pain much like it did in Virgil Crest.  Either result means having to stop and walk it off for a good while if it becomes full fledged.  Without knowing what would help, I took a salt pill.  Two minutes later it subsided.  I took my other salt pill at 60 minutes, in some ways hoping to dampen my upcoming mega-blast gel meant to speed my finish as well as keep my hamstrings happy (I still take certain precautions since Traprock last year).  Thankfully, no other cramps of any sort in any body part.

It was also the first time I have genuinely performed a negative split, where your pace increases steadily throughout a race and you finish faster than you start.  My pace splits:

   0k-5k:      6:58/mi
   5k-10k:    6:57/mi
   10k-15k:  6:47/mi
   15k-20k:  6:45/mi
   20k-21k:  6:23/mi

By half way I knew I could beat last year's time if I dealt my cards correctly.  It wasn't a desperate attempt to stumble forward with enough momentum, more just keeping the same faster tempo.  It helps when you know the race will be over so much more quickly than your usual weekend long runs.  It was definitely a lot of work -- despite 32 degree temps at the finish I still reduced my clothing to a mere tee shirt with bare arms and gloves, and even then I was still sweating through everything.  But when we crossed the finish like I felt like I could have kept going.  I wasn't seizing in my hips or using a massive arm pump to make up for deficits in fatigue.

I also had a really neat experience this year.  At about six miles in, a guy caught up to me and fall into pace at my side.  Remember all those times I wax poetic about the handful of fellow runners on the Henry Hudson Drive in the Palisades on Sunday mornings?  Raymond is one of them.  We exchanged formal introductions and realized we were striving for the same goal of beating 1:30.  We were together through Times Square, then I let him pull away slightly while cruising through much of the West Side Highway.   He never got more than 30 feet in front.  By the last mile and a half I caught back up, and I managed to surge ahead to the finish -- though this doesn't mean much, because he started in the corral behind me and had an actual finish time 45 seconds faster than mine.  But I got to run more than half the race with one of the people I so enjoy exchanging friendly hellos with each weekend.  When you don't belong to a running club and most of your friends don't run (or they just don't want to run with you for a variety of reasons), that is an incredibly nice feeling.  Who'd have thought?

In the end I managed to best last year's time by about 30 seconds:  1:29:25 (overall average pace: 6:50/mi), 96th female (out of 7,597), 599th overall (out of 14,500).

Now I feel ready for Boston.