As usual, I didn’t sleep much the night before the race. Having a 7am start meant waking up at 4am so that I could get out the door by 4:30. The pressure of having to get to sleep quickly so I can get enough hours of sleep always keeps me awake. I mostly just laid in bed the whole night somewhere in between sleeping and being awake. Each hour I would look at the clock to see if it was time to get up.
Some time after 2am I think I slept for a bit, less than an hour if at all, because I remember suddenly forcing myself awake to see it was 3:09am. The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off at 4:15am and I woke up in confusion from a deep sound sleep that couldn’t have been for more than hour. But, it was enough. I’ve performed fine on less sleep, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. Back in the beginning of the year, I mentioned I was hoping to break 89 minutes during this race, and hoping to be significantly under.
I made by way down to Mamaroneck to meet with Mark, and we would drive together to the start in Prospect Park. This race was a logistical nightmare, being a point to point, we would have to take the subway back to wherever it was we parked. Plus, finding parking by Prospect Park was something I was stressing about, and I believe Mark expressed concerns as well. It turns out the parking situation was not a problem at all. There seemed to be plenty of parking along Flatbush ave. If fact, there were hardly any cars that I could see. Nonetheless, we grabbed the first spot we could, which was quite a way from the start, yet right near the Grand Army Plaza train stop so it would make for a convenient return. We had plenty of time to spare and with things being a little chilly, walking to the start would be a good way to kill the hour or so we had. Plus, we had no bags to check in. Finding port-a-potties was the only task left to do.
While walking to the start, there was a long descent downhill. I saw the mile 2 marker and realized based on the direction we were headed, we would be going up this incline in the opposite direction. I found this somewhat intimidating. The only time I’ve ever run in Prospect Park was during the Brooklyn half in previous years when the course went in the opposite direction and ended in the park. I remembered things being tough in the park, but chalked it up to being the end of the race and going through the usual struggle one would expect. Now that the race is in the reverse direction and starts in the park, with two loops instead of one, I wondered a few days prior how Prospect Park compared to Central Park and found a thread on letsrun.com that seemed to say the two were comparable with clockwise of Prospect Park being easier. The race was counter-clockwise. And after the race, I would make my own assessment that two loops of Prospect Park is definitely more difficult than one lap of Central Park.
I decided my strategy would be to take it easy around the park, and find a fast pace when things flattened out for the last half. Thinking of the flat ocean parkway we were going to be running down in the second half, I was really looking forward to this race for weeks. I felt excited about the thought of finding a hard fast groove to finish out this race strong. I mentioned this to Mark, that I think it’s important to go easy at first and hit it hard in the end. I would then proceed to do the complete opposite as you’ll soon find out.
As we were headed to the race, the nausea I felt earlier from taking the doxycycline was coming out full force. I’ve been dealing with this since I found the lyme infected tick, and this is an expected side effect. It’s something I’m used to and hasn’t really gotten in the way of my running. Nausea is a familiar feeling for me during running so I just deal with it. Although, with no one else around, Mark had to hear my whining and complaints about it before the race.
At the start, I turned on the Garmin and couldn’t seem to get a signal. The status bar, which I question as to whether or not gives any real indication to the status, seemed to make it way to the right side slowly filling up, and suddenly jerk back to halfway. I’m convinced the status indicator serves no real purpose other than to give some entertainment to the person waiting for the Garmin to lock on enough satellites. I write software, so I’m guilty of doing things like this myself.
After resetting it and trying different things, I just gave up and decided to use it as a simple stopwatch to manually take my splits at the mile markers. I would have to forgo the luxury of knowing my average pace while running, and in the early miles, this would prove to be a problem for me.
Starting out, I tried to stretch out my legs and find a fast easy pace I could manage for the distance. The start was basically downhill so I had some trouble adjusting the effort. The first mile is always the toughest to gauge. And my split wound up proving that.
Mile 1: 6:30
When I hit the mile marker I was a bit surprised thinking I was doing something closer to 6:50. Unfortunately, since I didn’t have the GPS signal on the Garmin, I had to run a whole mile before realizing I needed to slow it down.
The second mile felt completely uphill. There might have been small parts that descended, but none of it was enough for relief. The whole time during mile two, I am managing my effort and I think its too early in the race to have an incline like this without a warmup.
Mile 2: 6:43
Although the second split is slower, its still too fast, especially considering the effort I’m putting into the hill. And the hill continues up to mile three. I made another effort to slow things down. It feels like the park is a spiral staircase constantly going up and around with out any downs.
Mile 3: 6:30
Gaah!! Still too fast! I almost got the first loop of the park done, but I’m questioning if I can do another loop. Shortly after mile 3, things are descending and the decent goes right past the start, but the incline begins again before mile 4. After mile 4, the hills during the second loop become tougher, and the pessimistic thoughts begin. I hope I can make it out of the park and that the flat course along Ocean Parkway would give me a chance to recover.
Mile 4 : 6:30
Mile 5 : 6:49
Mile 6 : 6:55
I’m putting a lot of effort in now, and the whole time I’m wondering if it’s because I’m running too fast or if the course is just tough. I’m typically strong on the hills and I cannot understand exactly what’s going wrong, but whatever it is, it’s too late to change anything. Should I be pushing harder to maintain pace, or slow it down even more which would be slower than target pace. I know, after this lap, I’ll be out of the park, and hopefully things will come together. I run downhill to mile 7, and exit the park.
Mile 7: 6:26
I almost have to remind myself that I still have 6 more miles to go and this is only the halfway mark, not the finish. Not only that, but things havent exactly flattened out yet. We have a couple of significant climbs to get to ocean parkway that seem intimidating but I get myself over them and on to mile 8. I asses how I feel. I compare it to how I typically feel when I have 6 miles left on my long runs at marathon pace. I know the exact point where I have 6 miles left, and if I felt like I did now I would want to slow things down considerably. I decide with only 7 miles behind me, the next 6 should feel easier than if I had 14 behind me. I decide I am not in good shape. I make my way on to 8 still hoping I’ll get out of this bad patch as I spend more time running on the flatter part of the course.
Mile 8 : 6:34
On my way to mile 9 things really don’t feel so well. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. My breathing is hard, my legs are tired, I was still somewhat nauseous, and things are getting hot. But it’s not clear what is bothering me most, but my pace was now slowing and I knew it. This is exactly the point where I should have opened up and did 6:30′s to the finish. Instead I was fading and people are starting to pass me. I’m angry at myself since I am now not going to get that opportunity to run hard at this point, which is what I’ve been looking forward to the most for this race.
Mile 9 : 6:50
I push on towards mile 10, wishing I had a reason to stop. I am mentally giving up now. I want to stop so bad and I cannot shake the thought from my head.
I think of conversations I’ve had with Tony, who does ultras. He spoke about dropping out of races and why he never has, and never will unless it’s a severe health issue or an injury. At the distances he races, a 100 miles or more for example, finishing is a real achievement, and in ultras, there is a high dropout rate. DNF’s are more acceptable in that genre.
But, to the point, I understood his reasoning. You drop out once, it becomes easier to drop out again. It sets a precedent and I completely identified with this when drawing my own comparison to stopping and walking a shorter race of marathon distance or under. I’ve never DNF’ed, but I’ve stopped in the past, walked it some, and even jogged it, which at that point, feels the same to me like a DNF.
Mile 10: 7:00
I hit mile 10. I’m disappointed to see I am so far off target of 6:45 pace. A minute later I stop. I am becoming that guy who walks when it gets tough. I’ve been setting that precedent. I can think of a time when I’ve wanted to stop so bad in the past during a race, but would always push through it. I can think of a time I never would have done this. Now it’s like a habit.
Stopping like this has always been the kiss of death for my race. NYC Half, back in August for example. It would be a constant struggle to get back on pace, or just give up and jog to the finish.
I’m now ashamed and pissed at myself for stopping during this race. I cough a bit and attempt to regain a better breathing pattern. I then pick it up. It feels so much slower, but I press on and concentrate on a feeling I can maintain rather than holding a fast pace.
Mile 11: 7:10
I realize the pace is close to the same as before I stopped despite the feeling of running slower. I determine this based on estimating I walked for about 10 seconds. I know I’m close to the finished, but the thought of two more miles feels like torture again. The last two miles of the Boston marathon didn’t feel this bad. I continue to get passed by many people and it’s throwing off my groove. I feel like kicking one guy who runs around me and then in right front of me. Ocean Parkway is huge and wide and I’m dead center with no one else around, so I don’t understand the reason for coming so close.
Mile 12: 7:02
One more mile to go. I remember at the start, the announcer saying the finish was by the parachute jump. I’m constantly looking for it. I finally see it and cannot gauge how far it is. I don’t have my garmin to give me an estimate of how far from the 12 mile marker I am.
We come to ramp of the boardwalk and I run up thinking I’m close. I decide to let it all out. I now pass a bunch of people, I make a right, but I can’t even see the damn mile marker for 13 when I make the turn.
I realize I just kicked way too soon. I run some more but I have nothing. I’m angry at the whole race. I’m angry at stopping at mile 10. I justify stopping again. I walk for a bit, unclear how much and just hoping the dizzy feeling goes away. A spectator screams at me “c’mon, you’re almost there”, as if I didn’t know. I cant even open my eyes to see her. Another runner, whom I passed prior, encourages me to go with him, and I do.
Mile 13 : 7:07
I keep going. I see three mats towards the finish. One mat is significantly in front of the start. I run past it hoping its the finish, and keep going to where the other two are. After passing both, I stop running and hit stop on my watch.
Mile 13.1 : 0:41 (~6:50)
My watch says 1:29:05. I missed it by 5 seconds.
I’m sure I spent more time than that walking.
But, I have a PR. But, who cares. It’s a shitty PR by 11 seconds, hardly significant. It”s not even a second per mile improvement.
Besides, what I wanted more was to be racing hard down Ocean Parkway, than necessarily getting a PR. I ran it like shit and I’ll be dwelling on it for a bit. I stopped. I can make plenty of excuses. I did that very well at mile 10. I won’t do it now because, in the end, it doesn’t change anything.
The saying “pain is temporary, but quitting is forever” comes to mind, and I swear to myself I’ll never stop so easily again.
