Monday Wrap Ups: In Which A Child Ruined My Thanksgiving

It's been a hot minute since I've updated this space, so I'll quickly get through the wrap ups before tackling the matter at hand.

Number of Miles Run, Week of 11/17: 34.  This was the first week it felt like winter in New York.  I had been considering giving up my gym membership, but of course the first time it got below 30 degrees, I was on the treadmill in my short shorts.  Old habits die hard.  

Number of Beers Consumed, Week of 11/17: Just 3.  Don't worry, I more than made up for that last week...

Types of Beers Consumed, Week of 11/17: NYAC Ale; Bell's Best Brown.

Number of Miles Run, Week of 11/24: 30. I had been planning on a few more, but then I got hungry and forgot.

Number of Beers Consumed, Week of 11/24: 11. Boom. And probably 2 bottles of wine, single-handedly.  'Tis the season.

Types of Beers Consumed, Week of 11/24: Two stadium-sized Bud Lights at the Barclays Center, a Maine Beer Company King Titus Porter, Bell's Best Brown, Stillwater's Brontide Swarzbier (spell check doesn't recognize any of those words), Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA, Sam Adams Light from my Dad's personal supply, Full Sail Pilsner, and Half Full's Bright Ale.

Number of Hot Dogs Consumed, Week of 11/24: 1.  Back in business, baby!

In addition to warming up the Thanksgiving engines with a hot dog, I also enjoyed incredible mashed potatoes, dressing (some people call this "stuffing," but the idea of stuffing anything into a dead, raw animal is revolting, so, dressing it is), biscuits, and other soothing starches.  This morning, my body was like "vegetables!" but my stomach was like "spinach artichoke dip is a vegetable, right?"  

For reasons unknown (read: drunk), Thanksgiving included a dramatic champagne presentation

While my Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot was a race of one, whereby I raced against the dogs trotting around the arena on the televised National Dog Show from the relative comfort of my parents' basement as the snow fell outside, I did participate in an actual Turkey Trot on Saturday.  After Ryan's triumphant first 5k, she rallied the troops for our hometown Rye Recreation Turkey Run with the promise of post-race brunch.  Eager to prolong my food coma, I eagerly agreed.  So on Saturday morning, TG and I boarded the train back up to Westchester for the race.

(True story: when we were getting our train tickets, TG wanted to walk up to the window and ask for "two tickets to paradise."  It's funny because it's true.  #everythingsbetterinryeny #myglorydayswere15yearsago)

That turkey next to me (the one with the beak; not Rich) didn't smell very good.

Let it be known, the 5k is not my specialty.  In fact, I sort of hate it because you have to run hard for a not short amount of time.  But as the gang stood around before the race, everyone started asking me if I was going to win.  Normally, when people ask if I win races, the answer is no, because, duh.  But back on my home turf, and with enough goading from my friends, I figured I might as well give it a shot.

I lined up close-ish to the start, but when the gun went off, I realized I wasn't nearly as far up as I should have been, the big giveaway  being that the turkey was in front of me.  After very nearly stepping on his plush tail and taking him out, I weaved my way past him.

The 5.2 mile and 5k races start together, so it was hard to gauge where I was in the pack and against whom I was racing.  As I charged up the first hill about a quarter mile into the race, there seemed to be quite a few people around me, all seemingly strong.  Perhaps I had gravely misjudged the caliber of the field.

The pack continued together down Forest Avenue and into Rye Town Park, setting for so many illicit beers and cigarettes from my youth.  In fact, as we sprinted along the beach, fingers freezing, I consoled myself by telling myself I had done this very same sprint so many times in my youth, and this time, I wasn't running from the police.

As we left the park, the 5.2 milers turned left, and I was able to see how many 5k-ers were around me.  I could see about 10 in my direct line of vision, and began picking them off.  I took off two men right away, then coasted down Dearborn and made a right on Milton, where I made a move to take out a woman.  She picked up the pace and held me off as I got beside her, but I didn't let up.  Together, we came to another woman, and I made another move to pass, this time dropping both of them.  I could see 3 more people ahead of me, two women and one guy (boy, really).  I knew the rest of the course was straight and flat until the right turn to the hill and the finish.  I glanced at my Garmin and saw a steady 6:24 pace.  Telling myself I was nearly done, I tried to reel in the next woman.  

As we crossed the street to make the right turn, I could tell I was gaining on her, but knew I might run out of room before I could run her down.  We came up the final hill to the finish line, and her parents, who looked to be about my age, started screaming "MOVE IT, NATALIE!"  As it turns out, I think one of my friends might have been her babysitter growing up, so my self-worth took a beating when I realized I was racing a child.  Anyway, Natalie edged me out, and I finished in 20:47, a second and a half behind her.  (She won the 13-17 age group, and I died a little inside).

As it turns out, I was the third woman, seventh overall, and won my own age group, so naturally, I made all my friends stand around in the cold to watch me receive my medal.  They cheered embarrassingly loudly, and then we all started drinking, which is one perk Natalie can't enjoy.  Sucker!  

1st old person to finish!

I'm sure that's a 5k PR for me, though I don't keep track because again, I hate the 5k, and getting out kicked by a minor certainly doesn't make me like it any more (the first female finisher was also a child, but she's an undergrad (ugh) at my alma mater, Colby College, and so I'm less mad and more proud).

I hope you had enjoyable Thanksgivings!

Race Report: Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug Ultra Marathons

Guess what! I figured out what that weird acronym in the email subject I received stands for! Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug Ultra Marathons.  Or something close to that.


Some general race info: I registered for this race in February or March, when I realized I had a conflict on the day of the NJ Trail Festival.  I checked out marathonguide for nearby 50ks on weekends I was available (rapidly dwindling...), and found JBLWUM in Kent, Connecticut.  Lake Waramaug State Park is actually in three adjacent cities in Connecticut, but Kent was the only one I'd heard of.  The race offers three ultra distances run simultaneously: 50km, 50 miles, and 100km, with each race consisting of increasing numbers of loops around the lake, each of which is 7.6 miles.  The 50k cost $55, and all races ended up selling out by early April, so get in early if you're interested.  And you should be!

The course is breathtaking: paved, with minimal traffic, around a picturesque lake, with gorgeous real estate, and some cows that add to the "rural Connecticut" feel but don't even smell!  The website describes the course as "rolling," and I was a little apprehensive, since I couldn't find an elevation chart on the website, but that description is generous.   Here's the elevation chart from my Garmin:

I don't think that's 100% accurate, since the course was 3 loops with a bit tacked on at the beginning and end, and I don't see three repeated segments, but it's close enough.  The undulations were minimal.  Though it was 3 loops, each was long enough so that a) you didn't get bored - a big fear of mine, since at the Knickerbocker 60k I stayed sane over so many loops only because I had friends join me for each of them, and b) you weren't lapping or getting lapped by the same people over and over, which can be discouraging.  It was sort of weird to be running with 50 milers and 100 kmers, because it made it difficult to gauge whether or not you were running at an appropriate pace, especially for someone like me who was running her first 50k; obviously I was hauling ass a lot sooner than someone who was running twice as long as me.  But it was fun to chat with other runners and learn about their ultra careers, and every participant I encountered was more than happy to do so.  


One of the only marks against this race is that it's not very easy to get to.  I went out to Connecticut on Saturday afternoon and spent the night at my parents', and still had to be out the door by 5:15am to get to the park with time to pick up my bib and do whatever it is we pretend to be doing when really we're all just milling about the start area.  In addition to being far from any major city (even Danbury, which is only a major city by Connecticut standards), the park is also only accessible by local roads; my drive was 48 miles, and only 4 of them were on a US Interstate.  It's really hard to read directions and street signs when it's still dark out.


That said, once you get there, parking is a breeze; I pulled into the State Park lot at 6:45am, easily found a spot, had access to running water and flushing toilets in the park facilities, and was a 3 minute walk to the start area.  I waited in line for approximately 15 seconds to get my chip, bib, and race t-shirt.  There was a tented bag drop at the start/finish, so runners had access to whatever of their own stuff they needed, in addition to everything offered at each of the four aid stations.  


And I mean everything.  Water, Gatorade, Coke, ginger ale, Goldfish, Saltines, cookies, jelly beans, pretzels, oranges, bananas, chicken soup, eggs, bacon... and that's just what I spied or was offered.  Volunteers were over-the-top helpful; I had barely pulled into one aid station before someone was taking my handheld to fill it up and checking to see what else they could feed me or give me.  Aid stations were about every 2.5 miles, and while I did run with both my own fuel (2 Gus) and liquid (Nathan handheld), you could certainly run this race relying only on aid station support.


Even the race director, Carl, was super hands-on.  During the first loop, he drove passed the runners and at each of us, he stopped and said "How's it going out here?  Everything okay so far?"  Though to be honest, I had a soft spot for him already because he has the same name as my Garmin. 


About my race: As for my own personal race experience, it was a terrific one.  Not just because I performed well (though, duh, I did), but I really enjoyed myself as well.  I had no time goal in mind, this being my first 50k, but did want to feel like I was putting my Boston training to good use and run a hard effort.  While not nearly as challenging a course as Boston, this was, obviously, 5 miles longer.  


The first portion of the course is a 2.2 mile out-and-back, and after Mary introduced herself to me at the start area, we set off together.  We exchanged war stories about races and post-race antics, and ran at a comfortable pace.  I kept my jacket on for this portion, because it was still early, but by the time we headed back towards the start/finish area, I was ready to ditch it.


Mary and I drifted apart after the out-and-back, and I continued greeting the other runners as I approached.  Unfortunately, I never did find someone to latch on to and run with for any substantial distance, but it was still nice to exchange "Good morning!"s and "Looking great!"s with everyone I passed.  I was feeling good clicking off sub-8 minute splits, so I decided for that first full loop, I'd aim to keep all my miles sub-8:00, and gradually slow down with each loop.  Because positive splitting is definitely what most people plan to accomplish during a race...  As I came through the start/finish area, I was informed I was the second woman.  Well hooray!  Only 27 miles to go...

I had everything I needed with me for that first loop, so didn't stop at any of the four aid stations, but all the volunteers were super friendly, and I promised I'd see them again.  The first station (Monkey Station) was staffed by girls in leis and coconut bras.  The second was in a parking lot that also housed a hot dog and pulled pork truck, and I'm not sure if the two were related. The third station was staffed by one man who'd erected a sign listing "Marathon Legends Running Today."  He'd written about a dozen names, and how many marathons and ultras they'd run.  All were upwards of 200.  I told him I had some catching up to do.  The fourth station was at the start finish area, where all of the spectators were stationed (and there were actually quite a few), so it was always nice to hear some cheers.


I was a little slower than intended on that first full loop, averaging an 8:03 pace.  As I set out for my second loop, I decided I'd try to keep all my mile splits sub-8:15.  Once again, I breezed by Monkey Station without stopping, but when I got to the parking lot station, my handheld was refilled, I grabbed a cup of Gatorade, and was offered bacon and eggs, which I politely declined on account of having 15 more miles to run.


The stretch between the parking lot station and the Legends station was the main road, outside the state park, and because it wasn't protected, it was very windy.  I stuck with a long sleeved top and gloves, and was glad to have both.  I kept plugging away, chatting to some fellows who were doing the 100k, and counted down my miles.  I passed a few women in this stretch, but having had no idea what race they were running and what position I was in, I tried not to get greedy and just focus on running my own race.  I finished loop 2 averaging 8:09/mile.


For the third and final full loop, I was aiming for sub-8:30 splits, and could break the remaining mileage down into distance to 26.2 and then the five miles after that.  I grabbed Gatorade at the start line aid station and forged ahead, beginning to feel a little tired.  Gatorade at Monkey Station, pretzel rods at the parking lot, an orange at the Legends station... I was trying to take in some calories whenever I could without eating anything I wasn't sure would sit with me.  I had no idea where I stood in the rankings, but was pleased with my splits thus far and didn't want to blow it with stomach pains. Or full on pooping my pants.  


I came across the "26.2 miles" spray painted onto the sidewalk in 3:34.  Let's talk about that for a minute.  A Boston qualifying time in its own right, that's 16 minutes faster than I actually ran Boston.  Eff weather. 


Moving on, I had just 5 miles to go.  I was tired.  But as I do in every race, I was calculating how much I could slow down and still run certain times. "If I slow down to 9 minute miles, I could still run 4:25.  If I slow down to 10 minute miles, I could still run sub 4:30."  Again, while I hadn't gone into the race with a time goal in mind, now that I'd come this far, I wanted to set one, and then exceed it.  


I came through the start/finish having averaged 8:26/mile for loop 3, and then had to head to Monkey Station and back one more time.  With about 4 miles to go, the leader passed me going in the other direction.  He looked like he was flying.  I gave him a clap and a whoop and didn't see anyone coming behind him for miles.  Dude killed it.


With 3 miles to go, my left hamstring got very tight and started affecting my gait.  The only other time this has happened was with about a mile to go during the Smuttynose Marathon.  A mile was survivable, but I was concerned about doing serious damage by limping for 3 miles.  I spent about another mile considering what would happen if my leg suddenly just broke off out here in the middle of nowhere.  But I got distracted from thinking about that when runners 2, 3, and 4 cruised down the hill in front of me and blew by headed for the finish.  And one of them was a woman!  Damn her!  But with a 2 mile lead on me, there was no way to catch her.  Fine, I thought, then I sure as hell better finish as the second woman.


I passed Monkey Station for the last time, hit the turnaround, and pointed back towards the finish.  Naturally, this seemed like an interminable distance.  And there were a good number of people around me that I wanted desperately to stave off.  A friendly guy named Kurt started talking to me just after the turnaround, and we ran together for a few.  But when he reminded me "yeah we're about the 5th and 6th overall," I was like "you mean you're the 6th overall," and laid down the hammer.  Only I didn't say that, because ultra runners are super friendly and non-competitive.  But I thought it.  I pulled ahead of Kurt and gave it one last push.  I crossed the line 5th overall, 2nd woman (only 13 in the field...), with a time of 4:17:32, 8:17 average pace.  


That's 5 minutes faster than my first marathon time.


And Kurt was indeed 6th overall.

Also, the next woman was like an hour and 15 minutes behind me, so there wasn't tremendous need for me to gun it on the homestretch, but one never knows.

Post race, Carl (the race director, not my Garmin) once again checked on me, making sure I was okay, handing me my medal, and telling me where I could find food and anything else I needed.  I shook his hand and thanked him for a great race.  And it really was.  Beautiful day, scenic course, friendly people.  And hot dogs!

Sorry I ate most of it before I took this.  Also, sorry that there were like 4 pictures in this post and one is a mostly-eaten hot dog.  I didn't carry my phone on me to take pictures on account of it being a race.  Deal.


Oh also, deal with this.

Because I have to.


So anyway, did I like this race?  For sure.  As I mentioned, I borderline overdosed on endorphins on Sunday.  Exhibit A.

And so modest!


But provided you have a way to get out there, I would recommend this 50k to anyone.  My ultra experience is obviously severely limited, but this was exactly what I was hoping for: laid-back people enjoying themselves while spending a few hours in the woods.  Though I didn't know anyone, I hung around after the race for almost an hour, talking to other runners and their families and the volunteers because I was enjoying myself so much.  I am significantly more sore than I am after marathons, but I don't care.  That's what beer is for.


I AM GOOD AT ALL THE THINGS!

Sunday Wrap Up: All I Do Is Win

Oh hello.  What's that?  You want to know if IMan and I, operating under the team name of Will Run For Beards, won the co-ed two man New York City Ekiden relay today?  I'm so glad you asked.  BECAUSE WE DID.

I didn't take any pictures during the race because I was too busy winning it, but this is what we look like as a team.  We looked the same today, minus the sunglasses, beers, and summer attire.  Related: doesn't that dress look like something Mrs. Roper would wear?

But before I get to that, I should fill in the gaps between where I left off and today, because what is a blog for if not detailing the minutiae of one's life to a captive audience?

So, I did my mile repeats on Wednesday as prescribed, but sort of wasn't feeling awesome when I started.  My legs just haven't been recovering as well as they usually do, which I'm sure has nothing to do with the fact that I've been living on jellybeans this week.  I took a recovery day on Thursday as I typically do, but still wasn't feeling much spring in my step by Friday.  In fact, on Friday morning the alarm went off, I put on my running gear, hobbled outside, was pelted with rain and wind, and went back into my apartment.  I got back into bed and slept for another hour. In my running clothes.

This slumber was interrupted by the other half of Team Will Run For Beards (the half with the beard), who was calling to discuss our weekend plans and race strategy for the Ekiden.  I lamented my missed morning run, and IMan cracked the whip: do those Goal Marathon Pace miles today and take it easy tomorrow; we have a race to win on Sunday!

Since sometimes I let IMan think he is the boss, I did as I was told and went to the gym after work, begrudgingly, to knock out my GMP run.  A-ha!  But what is GMP?  I haven't yet decided what I'm looking to run at Boston this year, but figured 3:22 would be a nice PR, and precisely an hour faster than my first (and slowest) marathon.  7:42/mile it is.  As with the mile repeats, it didn't feel awesome, but didn't suck either.  Being fine is good enough.

Saturday morning, I agreed to run a few miles with Abbe, so long as she promised not to tell IMan.  We looped the Prospect Park perimeter and headed over the Brooklyn Bridge to her apartment, chatting and relaxed the whole way.  Well, Abbe was chatting and relaxed, even after 18+ miles.  I was mumbling about orange juice and shuffling like Frankenstein, fairly certain that paralysis would set in just as IMan and I toed the starting line on Sunday.

But by some miracle, those miles with Abbe seemed to have cured me!  Not only did they represent a run I wasn't dreading (consider that a compliment, Abbe), but they left me feeling downright spry!  Or maybe that was the post-run best bagel I've ever eaten.  Either way, I woke up this morning READY TO RACE!

The Ekiden is, according to Wikipedia, a traditional Japanese relay in which participants wear, and pass between them, a sash.  There are probably more cultural nuances than that, but for our purposes (which judging by this rushed account are unabashedly xenophobic... I swear I'm a culturally sensitive person), that's the gist of it.  The New York City Ekiden was broken into 6 categories: 4-person male, 4-person female, and 4-person co-ed, and 2-person male, female, and co-ed, and IMan was we were gunning to win the 2 person co-ed division.  The legs were:

1. 2 lower loops of Central Park - 3.4 miles

2. 1 full loop of Central Park - 6.1 miles

3. 1 102nd Street loop of Central Park - 5 miles

4. 1 lower look of Central Park - 1.7 miles

IMan and I decided that he, being fleet of foot (also, the one with the beard) should lead off Team Will Run For Beards, and cover the greater distance of 8.4 miles total.  I, meanwhile, was responsible for the fate of our relationship team with the anchor leg, as well as the full Central Park loop.  

Well technically we got the legs screwed up when we reviewed them and were only corrected as IMan stood on the starting line, thinking he was running 3.4 miles and then 6 miles, but whatever.

So!  Time to run!  IMan dons our sash and sets off for his 3.4 mile leg.  I stayed bundled up against the cold in a hoodie and jacket.  Leg 1 was the only leg that passed through the transition area during the leg, so I had some idea of how IMan was doing at the halfway point.  There was one guy in our division from the Central Park Track Club about a minute ahead of him, but IMan had more than a minute on the next contenders in the co-ed 2-person group.  Oh man, I thought, don't let me blow this.

I stripped off my cold weather gear and hopped into the transition area about 2 minutes before I expected to see IMan.  He came up the hill about a minute behind the lead co-ed 2-person team, handed off the sash, smacked me on the butt, and told me to get moving.

Gah, running fast is painful and hard!  Almost immediately, I was passed by a woman not in our division.  While it didn't matter for competitive purposes, it was a little discouraging, since IMan had really hauled ass for his leg.  I hit mile 1 in 6:59 - a solid 20 seconds faster than I'd planned.  Almost immediately after that, I had to stop to tie my shoe.  Ugh, I'm ruining everything!

Mentally regrouping, I continued charging up the East side of the park, hitting mile 2 at 7:04.  At this point, I could tell I was gaining on the lead co-ed 2-person CPTC lady.  Reel her in, I told myself.  Little by little, I got closer, until I finally surged by her at mile 3.  I looked down at my Garmin and discovered that little surge was a 6:46 third mile, and I still had 3 more to go.

At this point, the prospect of embarrassment is really what kept me going.  I didn't want to have made my move too early and then have that be proven to me by getting passed by this chick close to the transition area, so I pushed down the hockey rink hill and wheezed my way up the Harlem Hill.  Mile 4, 7:07.

Okay, two more miles, I can probably keep running without dying for two more miles.  Get over these West side hills.  Oh my God, it feels like my hamstring is dangling out of the back on my leg right now!  But she could be right behind me!  Mile 5, 7:05.

Somewhere into my sixth mile, my other shoe came untied.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  I wasn't about to stop and give up our hard-earned lead, so I ran the rest of the leg looking directly at my feet while adopting a weird, wide-legged gait.  I look forward to photos from this mile.  Anyway, I spied IMan waiting for me in the transition area and booked it up to him.  "That was quick!" He said.  I tried not to vomit on him, handed off the sash, wheezed "102nd," hoping he'd understand that he was supposed to turn at 102nd Street, and doubled over.  Last 6.1 miles, 6:52.

After I caught my breath, I waited to see how much time I'd put between us and the CPTC team.  She came through the transition area about two minutes 30 seconds (I have, apparently, both a terrible sense of how time works, and also a grossly inflated ego) after I did, and with IMan undoubtedly flying around the Park, her teammate was going to have a tough time catching up.

Leg 3 seemed to fly by (that happens when you're fast enough to WIN - heyo!), and before I knew it, I was shivering in the transition area waiting for IMan and my last 1.7 mile leg.  He passed off the sash and I tore out of the area.  

Surprisingly, my legs felt okay, and knowing that I only had to run 1.7 miles made the whole thing more bearable.  I ticked off the first mile in 6:42.  Less than a mile to go!  But I was still terrified that our CPTC rivals were right on our tails; IMan had maintained the lead over leg 3, but I had no idea by how much.  I told myself I couldn't ease off until I was across the finish line.  I averaged a 6:49 for that last 0.7 miles, and with it, we won!  Will Run For Beards was victorious!  Our rivals came in shortly after, and I had a nice handshake with the woman I'd been racing all morning.  I mean, I probably wouldn't have thought it was nice if I'd been on the losing end, so kudos to her for being magnanimous.

It was pretty awesome to have our arms raised over our heads like heavyweight champions, and everyone clapped and they proclaimed us the victors.  Also, our prize is a pair of sneakers by race sponsor Sketchers for each of us!  As IMan as I took our victory lap (and by that I mean, took an additional lap of Central Park after the race, because IMan is a sadist and makes me run too much), he said "we actually made money on this race.  2 pairs of sneakers for a $70 entry fee!"  I said "Well you didn't pay anything, so you made even more!"  But anyway, $70 for a fun race with sneaker prizes (in 6 different categories!), technical t-shirts, and donuts, apples, water, and hot chocolate at the finish is not a bad gig.  I know this race got some flack because why pay $70 (or $100 for a 4-person team) to run loops of the park you probably run in all the time anyway?  But I have to say, I think NYCRuns puts on a great race, this was a fun day, and I'm happy to support them. 

Plus, the only 2 times I've ever won have been in NYCRuns races.  So, there's that.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 46.  That's too many.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 6.  That's not enough!

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Sam Adams Alpine Spring, Stella Artois, Bud Light, and a Tuatara IPA from New Zealand by way of Neal.  I would have loved to savor it thoughtfully, but I was so tired the night that I opened it that I poured it into my mouth hole and passed out immediately.  Missed opportunity.  Thankfully there's a Tuatara Lager still in the mix, so I'll get to try that out.

And speaking of passing out, now it is time for me to do that, even though it is 5:00pm on a Sunday.  Winning is tiring.

Race Report: Smuttynose Hampton Rockfest Marathon

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Claire who was running her 12th Marathon - her 5th in 12 months. Though she trained diligently, she was always left feeling that she could have done more, which undermined her confidence. As she approached the big day of the race, she looked back at her training for past marathons, and she was scared. For example, she had run 227 miles in the month before the Boston Marathon - her fastest to date. Conversely, she had only run 165 in the month before her 12th. She was very much doubtful that she could run another PR. If she's being totally honest, she was looking for an excuse not to.

But she traveled to Hampton, NH anyway, because it was said to be a fast marathon course. She picked up her bib and she drove the course and she thought, "this doesn't seem like a very fast marathon course after all..." There we so many twists, turns, and out-and-backs that she was sure she would be accumulating extra mileage here and there, not taking turns tight enough, not running tangents, and she did not like her odds of having a fast race. She wished she had not publicly broadcast her ambitions for the race, but such is the risk with being an Internet celebrity. Which she also was.









But she ate a pasta dinner, and laid out her race day gear, and got into a hotel bed which was shaped like a taco, and she went to sleep (or tried to, but her boyfriend IMan had the habit of exhaling his used breath directly into her breathing space, which made sleeping difficult), all the while unsure of herself and this whole marathoning business.

In the morning, she awoke and it was raining. Not misting or spitting or drizzling. It was torrentially down-pouring. She may even have seen literal cats and dogs dripping from the clouds. She was very scared (not of the cats and dogs; Claire loves animals).

She said to IMan, who was also running the marathon, but who has a much more even temperament when it comes to racing (let the record show he is psychotic about other things), "What are we going to do?" To which he replied, "we are going to run a marathon."

So they put on their race gear and lubed up with Body Glide and unfurled trash bags to wear over their clothes, and they ate granola bars and drank coffee and watched SportsCenter, and finally it was nearing the start time (which was 9am, which was quite late, but also meant they didn't have to wake up too early, which was nice). So they put their trash bags over their clothes and saw pedestrians walking by with their umbrellas blown inside out and they were not very excited to run. Claire even suggested that they skip the race altogether and go to the beer tent at the finish instead.








But instead they waited under an overhang to stay relatively dry, and when it was time, they went back out into the elements and headed toward the start. IMan, who is very fast, headed towards the front of the pack. Claire placed herself several rows back. The rain kept coming down. Claire said to herself, "Let's see how the first mile goes, but I'm pretty sure this is not a day for PRs."

At the gun, Claire stripped off her garbage bags and began to run. While most races necessitate a little bobbing and weaving to get through the pack during the first few miles, Claire found she had no trouble carving out some space for herself. Her pace bracelet said she should run a flat 8:00/mile for the first mile. She ran a 7:32. Fast. But it didn't feel that bad, and since she'd driven the course the night before and knew there were no major climbs in the back half, she thought "well, let me be a touch fast now, and see how I feel after 5k. It'll be just like that crappy race in Park Slope last weekend."

Mile 2: 7:23. Oops.
Mile 3: 7:32.

Claire was still feeling decent, though she had to pee pretty badly. So she decided to keep running a little fast in order to bank time in preparation for a bathroom stop.

Mile 4: 7:27
Mile 5: 7:39. "Is two minutes of banked time enough?" she thought. "Maybe I'll keep going to the next portapotty.

Mile 6: 7:30
Mile 7: 7:32
Mile 8: 7:26

By now, the rain had tapered off, and Claire was pleasantly surprised by how she was feeling. Minus being soaking wet and urgently needing to pee. But she figured she could hover around 7:30s through the first half, and that even on tired legs, she could run 8:30s through the second half, since that is the pace she'd been doing for her long run. If she could make this positive split strategy actually work, she would come in right at 3:30. But positive splitting isn't considered so much a strategy as it is a grievous error...

Mile 9: 7:37. Oof. Claire did not recollect this hill from driving the course...
Mile 10: 7:23
Mile 11: 7:28
Mile 12: 7:30
Mile 13: 7:41

As she came through the half marathon point, two weird things happened to our protagonist: 1) She set a half marathon PR at 1:38:XX, and 2) the course marshal told her she was "about the 6th lady." You really shouldn't set half marathon PRs during the marathon, and upon looking at her watch and seeing her time, Claire thought, "this is going to get very ugly." But she was admittedly buoyed knowing that she was among the top ten women. The man running with her was buoyed too, until he concluded aloud, "Oh, I'm not a lady."

Claire still had to pee. Badly. "But if I keep pushing through 16, I'll only have 10 miles to go."

Mile 14: 7:40
Mile 15: 7:46
Mile 16: 7:50

Claire knew she was slipping. "Run 2 more miles hard. Just 2."

Mile 17: 7:54
Mile 18: 7:54. The course did a weird left turn onto a side street here, where runners went about 10 yards down the street, around some orange cones, and back out again. Claire was a few steps ahead of the man who was not a lady, and nearly took him the wrong way because the around-the-cones maneuver seemed so weird. Why couldn't they have just backed the finish line up 20 yards?

Course marshals said "the next woman is just 20 seconds ahead of you! Striking distance!" You know what, guy? Strike this, she thought. She'd been running with the man who realized he was not a lady for almost 5 miles now, but he had headphones on, so they didn't exchange anything but grunts.

It started raining again. Hard. But by this point, Claire had banked enough time that she could slow down a full minute per mile if she needed to and still come in at 3:30. This was unexpected, and Claire instead assumed her legs would someone break off in the next 8 miles. Her shoes were very squishy, and the Gatorade (extra credit for all marathons that serve orange Gatorade - not lemon lime, and not Cytomax - on the course) that spilled into her sports bra with every sip burned the spots that had been rubbed raw. "8 miles to go; that's just twice around Prospect Park from your apartment. And maybe it's raining hard enough you could just pee while you're running." Claire decided not to try that because of the chafing risk. But she did really consider it.

Mile 19: 7:51. She was passed by a woman, and became the 7th woman overall.
Mile 20: 8:09. That hill, again. The first mile over 8 minutes. "Here it comes," she thought. She was passed again. 8th woman now.
Mile 21: 7:59
Mile 22: 7:54. A big downhill back towards the ocean, and the finish line. Alett, who stood out in the rain and wind, with a cold, to cheer, spied Claire and snapped her picture. "I hear there's beer at the finish!" she told Claire. Claire wanted a beer. But she also really wanted to pee.










Mile 23: 8:07. "Just 3 and change. 3:30 is in the bag. See what you can do."
Mile 24: 8:13. Claire passed another woman, though not one in her age group. 7th overall. Marathons never have water this close to the finish, but Claire was quite thirsty here.
Mile 25: 8:13. "10 more minutes, 10 more minutes and you'll have run sub 3:30 and you can pee."
Mile 26: 8:19. Hamstring was completely cramped and form was going haywire. Stride, limp, stride, limp...

When she first spied it, the finish chute clock read 3:24 and change. Claire pushed. The hamstring pushed back. "Break 3:25," she thought. Claire screamed like a women's tennis player. The crowd cheered. The announcer said "Claire Walsh from Brooklyn, New York has gone the distance." The finish clock read 3:24:45.

"Don't throw up, don't throw up." Claire caught her breath, grabbed her metal (not particularly nice, but for a small local race, she'll take it; also, the criterium for deeming a metal "nice" are pretty subjective) and began stumbling back to the hotel a few blocks away. She chatted with a fellow finisher and exchanged congratulatory remarks. "7th woman overall, eh? You probably got an age group award!" But Claire couldn't think about that because, by now she was not only soaking wet, but also freezing, and if it hasn't been mentioned, she really had to pee. She returned to the hotel room with the bed shaped like a taco to find IMan showering. "Howdiditgoohmygodpleasehurryihavetopee."

"It was okay," IMan reported as he toweled off while Claire shoved him out of the way to get into the bathroom, "but that course sucked. I felt like it was all uphill. The wind was awful. I ran a 3:02. I think I was 9th."

9th place? Out of the whole marathon? Um, yeah, I guess that's okay...

"How did it go for you?" IMan asked. "3:24, 7th woman overall."

"Um, congrats on the 9 minute PR!" IMan exclaimed, though Claire barely heard him as she turned on the hot water in the shower.

She wriggled out of her sopping wet running gear and stepped into the shower (and peed! So much! Like, 4 straight minutes of shower pee!). The hot water hit all of her most chafed spots and was agonizing. She wanted to sit down, but the shower floor was covered with pee. But worst off all, she wanted a beer, and there were none.

"Get out of that bed, IMan!" she demanded as she dug through her bag for sweats. "We're going to the beer tent."

Showered and warm, Claire and IMan began to feel much better. IMan's feet were very chewed up from running the sandy roads in the rain, and Claire had a blister or two, but they were determined to walk those 5 blocks back to the beer tent. They ran 26.2 miles in the pouring rain. They were going to drink free race beers.









Pictured: 9th place finisher enjoying a Smuttynose Star Island Pale Ale at the beer tent. This is the first marathon after which he has actually put on his medal. Not pictured: delicious slices of Dominos consumed at the finish.

On their way back to the car, Claire and IMan took a look at the official results. IMan was indeed 9th overall, with a 3:02:54. Claire was the 7th female, with a 3:24:45. IMan also won his age group, and Claire took second in hers. (I'd link to the official results, but I'd prefer you didn't know IMan's real name and try to steal him from me because you love his beard and want to date a winner).

The moral of this story? Rain and wind make for pretty miserable racing conditions, and facilitate chafing and blisters. They are not, however, an excuse for a less than A+ performance, no matter how much one wants them to be. Trust yourself, trust your training, and don't make excuses. You're stronger, faster, and better prepared than you think.

That said, even seasoned marathoners psyche themselves out every once in awhile. It's okay to be nervous.

Also, don't hold your pee in for 3 hours and 24 minutes. It's very uncomfortable.

Race Report: 10 Dollar 10K, or My Accidental Win

In an effort to continue my streak of running a race every month, and with the number of days left in August rapidly dwindling, I decided on Monday to race tonight's 10 Dollar 10k, put on by NYCRuns. I'd never run an NYCRuns race before, but I follow them on Twitter, and the fellow in charge, Steve, is funny. That's really all it takes in terms of race directors (and regular people) to win me over. Plus, this race cost $10. Which is $23 less than NYRR races. I was sold. Never mind that it was in a park I'd never been to before, let alone run in, and it was on a Wednesday evening. I recruited a work friend, Nathan, and we snuck out of the office a few minutes early for the 7:00pm start.

$10, as you might imagine, doesn't buy you too many fancy perks, but I was impressed with what it did get me. A bib, a timing chip, an accurately measured course, "bag check" (really just a bench under which people deposited their bags. I left all my things, like my iPad, at work just in case, but no one reported any problems), volunteers, water, and even some potato chips at the finish (I declined, owing to stomach pains, owing to the fact that I grazed at my desk all day long, not for one second considering the fact that I was racing a 10k tonight).

The field was small - I think I read on Twitter there were 120 registered by late afternoon, so figure not many more than that turned out - and I got to see TK at the start (she easily found me, though her ever-present pigtails would have attracted my attention eventually). We even joked that we could start literally on the starting line, since there was room upfront. We didn't want to be those people, however, so we started a few rows back. Promptly at 7:00, and with a "3, 2, 1... GO!," we were off and running.

Nathan and I started together, and chatted as we set out. Less than half a mile in, he said (squealed, really), "Claire, we're the first girls!" Immediately after he said it, we veered to the right and faced a mountain. It sucked.

We stayed together, with the leaders in eyeshot, for another mile, alternately wheezing and joking about how weird it was to run a race where you could literally get lost; the field was thin, and it was getting dark, especially in the woods.

(That's what we writers call "foreshadowing...")

After about 2 1/2 miles, Nathan and I separated. I was still the lead woman, which was so, so weird and unintentional, and I anticipated getting blown by eventually. Still, I tried to keep a 7:30 pace, and kept my eyes peeled for Girl Number 2 to see how much longer my 15 minutes of running fame (in my mind) would last. Coming into a curve around 3 miles, a course marshal yelled "first woman!" Oooh, he's talking about me!

I stayed close to three guys a little older than me and we came through the start/finish for loop 2. I figured I'd hang on and let them pull me along. When we got to the mountain for the second time, I wanted them to literally pull me along.

About 4 miles in, still the lead woman, I started to think "well it'd be cool to actually win; what's a strategy to make that happen?" I worked as hard as I could on the uphills, and decided to recover on the straightaways, so I could cruise downhill as well. I usually like to recover downhill, but in racing with men tonight, I saw they all used the downhills to their advantage and to get some distance between us (no one likes to be chicked).

Coming back up into the wooded area from the water the second time, the same marshal told me "still the leader!" With just one other guy, I headed into the last turn. Or what I thought was the last turn.

After the turn, the course spit us back out onto the straightaway towards the finish and I thought we were in the clear. I was leading this guy now, and had no one visibly in front of me. At the last second - I'm talking, nearly break an ankle turning so hard, last second - a course marshal sent us to the right, into the woods again. Though there were bright orange arrows on the ground, I was so focused on the finish I had stopped looking for them.

Thankfully we made the turn together and tackled a few rollers, trading places. Finally, dude told me to take it, and that his hip was hurting. I told him to hang on, we had half a mile to go.

We veered left again down a slight hill and I could see the finish chute. And then, I could see the backs of the shirts of two (two!) guys blow by me. Sneaky bitches (no one likes to get "duded" either. I just made that term up, but the sentiment is true)! But they raced a good raced and deserved it. And they weren't girls.

One final push (hardly a push, as I was feeling pukey), and I crossed the line in 46:52 by my watch. Not a PR, but good enough to be the first woman over the line. I won a race!

All the dudes I'd been running with were super gracious, and we thanked each other for the race. Hip hurting man came in maybe a minute later, and I was glad to see he was able to run across the line. Maybe 2 or 3 minutes later, the Number Two Girl came across the line.

Shortly thereafter, Steve from NYCRuns came over to a group of finishers to chat. Apparently, some of them missed a turn somewhere - I assume the spot where I nearly missed the turn myself, but it was hard to figure exactly where, since there were so many loops and turns on the course. I was a little scared maybe I'd missed it somewhere, but my Garmin seems to think I ran a full 10k. But of course, in the only race I've ever been the women's winner, people got lost. So I guess I only "won." In any case, there seemed to be no hard feelings about it, from racers nor organizers.

I kept my eyes peeled on the finish chute and spied TK come across the line, the third female overall. And shortly thereafter, Nathan.

We grabbed water and chatted for a few minutes, and Steve updated recent finishers with the news about the unintentional detours. He apologized and said he wasn't sure how it happened, since all the course marshals were experienced volunteers. My interactions with all of them were great - they were both supportive and informative (I only wish I hadn't been sucking wind so hard I could barely thank them). I'm sure it was just an issue of running out of daylight. In any case, Steve said he wasn't sure what it was going to mean for timing, but results will be posted online tomorrow. Lest my victory turn out to be fleeting, I better celebrate tonight!

It was approaching 8pm, so I said my goodbyes and got ready to leave. "Are you running back to the office?" Nathan asked. Crap. I forgot I'd earlier considered knocking out my 8 miles at race pace tonight, since I'd be doing 6.2 ahead of race pace anyway. "Nah, I don't need to. I won the race; I deserve a break."

Thanks NYCRuns for a solid, no-frills event. I'll definitely be racing another event with you in the future. Hopefully I can be the legit women's winner next time.

But until then, this totally counts.