Pacing, Private Parts, and the Paradox of Success

Great news, everyone! This morning I did I test run in my intended Sunday race gear! Why is this good news for you, you ask? Well, if you're a New York resident or plan to be watching the marathon in person, it means I'm sparing you from exposure to my camel toe; I decided that as comfortable as they are while standing still, compression shorts just ride up too much to make running a marathon pleasant for anyone involved. You're welcome.

Gear is picked, race-day transit is assigned (6:00am bus from the NY Public Library, anyone? If your transit assignment is the same, come find me! I'll be the one in the back of the bus organizing a game of Truth or Dare. That's what you're supposed to do on buses, right?), dinner reservations are made... I guess the only thing left to do is come up with a race strategy. Oh, that's all?

I literally have no idea what to expect from this race. I printed out a 3:45 pace band (8:34 min/mile). I told my loyal band of friends that I'd be running 8:45s (3:49 finish). Compared to last month's effort, either of those paces seems like a cake walk; I managed to eek out 26.2 miles at an 8:15 pace 5 weeks ago. Except that last month's elevation profile looked like this:

Whereas NYC's looks like this:

Miles 15, 18, and 23: if mile markers were social circumstances, you'd rank worse than "exposing camel toe to 45,000 marathoners plus 9 million resident New Yorkers."

In theory, it shouldn't matter what my pace is for this race. My goal this season was to qualify for Boston, and I achieved it with 4 whole minutes to spare. The New York City Marathon was meant to be a reward for that accomplishment, my victory lap to celebrate a hard-won success. But here's the trick of it: it's pretty hard to go from running banner race, where you've drilled splits into your mind at the expense of the names of friends and loved ones ("You know, that blonde girl, goes to Michigan State, blood relative of mine... what's her name again?") to having no time goals at all. I could conceivably not even wear a watch this race, and gauge my progress by the number of high fives I get from the crowds. But I want to know. I want to have a way to measure and analyze, even if it's just for me. I've spent the last five months in a fierce competition against Claire Who Was Not A Boston Qualifier, and it's hard to let go of that fight, even though I won it already. Do I want this to be my most fun race ever? Definitely. Does that preclude me from also putting up a respectable time? I hope not. At the end of the day, am I lucky to be heading to my ninth marathon starting line to spend a few hours doing what I love? Absolutely.

I know you're waiting for the part where I wrap this up neatly with some take away message or moral. This is the part where I should reconcile my need for a clear goal or objective with the opportunity to just enjoy Sunday for what it is: a long run on the roads and parks I know and love, with 45,000 friends. I set the bar pretty high with that "overcoming obstacles" pre-race post last month, after all. But for now, I'm leaving this issue unresolved; I can't be expected to offer strokes of genius every time I write (least of all because I am not paid to do this). And sometimes, doing what makes you happy is enough.

(Damn, that was a free stroke of genius I just gave away right there!)