WHAT. A. WEEKEND.
Really, what a gestational period. Confused? Let me explain...
In August 2010, my running partner Christine told me she was pregnant. I took the news REALLY hard; we had both sets of our kids together and in the end, I decided I was done and she wanted one more. I knew Mike and I were finished having kids but I struggled with the reality that my birthing years were OH. VER. Over=old, right?
So, I did what any logical, clear-thinking, non-old person would do; I put my name in the lottery for the New York City Half Marathon. WHAT WAS I THINKING?? Well, it was August, I wasn't working, and I ran daily. I was thinking that life was pretty good. It was a typical first trimester. I was thin, and only remembered there was something big coming at the end of all of this when I wanted to. Pure bliss.
Flash forward to December 2010. I wasn't running at all, I was taking two courses in the Administration program, I was working full time and planning a trip to Japan. And I found out my name got pulled in the lottery. HOLY. CRAP. Pretty much sums up the second trimester; I was overwhelmed, uncomfortable, and would love to go back in time and rethink this decision. My good friend, The Banter, was kind enough to put together my training program, or more appropriately, my birthing plan. I knew what I had to do in order to have success in the end. I could do it...right?
Now we come to the final trimester, March 2011. Christine had her baby; a beautiful, bouncing baby boy that absolutely completes her family. I have missed having her by my side on our long runs, but I'm so happy for her and the path of motherhood she is traveling down.
It was time for my 9 month journey to come to an end as well; my sister and I flew to NYC on Friday. We walked all over Friday night and wandered around Times Square and Rockafeller Center.
Saturday morning I woke up and realized two things; 1.) holy crap my legs were sore from walking, and 2.) AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
That pretty much summed up my anxiety.
We went to the race expo to get my bib number and race packet. Kudos to New York Road Runners; they are an organized, inviting, hospitable group. We kept our walking short to save my legs; we even took a taxi to Yankee Stadium (Cab Driver: You know we are in Manhattan and you want to go to the Bronx, right?)
After a fun afternoon at Yankee Stadium and an even more hysterical experience figuring out taxis in the Bronx are NOT yellow...we headed back to Times Square to get tickets for a Broadway show. (Anyone else picking up on my tendency to keep myself busy instead of focus on the large pink elephant in the middle of Times Square? Awesome.)
We went and saw Million Dollar Quartet; great show. I got to bed at 11pm and by 4am I was WIDE. AWAKE. It is true that no one sleeps the night before a race. So I got up and forced down a banana, some bread, and some water. LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!
I left for Central Park at 6am and was more nervous than I have ever been in my entire life. Might be a hyperbole, but that morning I was a deer in headlights.
I was trying to get to 102nd street but the taxi could only get me to 91st street because of the 15,000 other people trying to get up 5th Ave. Nothing like an eleven block warm-up, right? I made it to baggage drop off as they were closing up at 6:45am and after a quick trip to the restroom, I got to my corral by the 7:10am cut off. Things were looking up.
Other than my fear and frozen body, I was excited. I made small talk w/ those around me and then I stopped. I looked around. I noticed the helicopter circling for the live broadcast. I looked at the faces of other runners realizing their dreams after months of planning. I looked at people's jerseys and the homemade stickers listing in who's memory they were running. I looked at the crowds that were so happy and smiling even though it was below freezing and dark out. I said a quick prayer of thanks for physically and culturally allowing me to do this and then I started to cry. Not gonna lie. I was so emotional.
After the National Anthem, I suppose the race started. I have no idea because it took 12 minutes for the pack I was in to get to the starting line. The first eight miles, I was alone with my iPod on the hills of Central Park. I was aware of the masses around me but if I was going to get through this I had to center...and stop crying. Interesting point: my iPod controls froze. I tried to get back to the menu to get to my running mix that I had worked on for months, but it wouldn't budge. Somehow my iPod wanted to shuffle out its own mix and it was great. Songs and artists I would have never put on my running playlist--Sugarland, John Denver...it was perfect and needed.
The crowd was sporatic but present in the park, and holding up emotional handmade signs (didn't help with the crying). When I hit the 10k mark, I knew I was going to be alright and I was half way through. I stopped fearing the mythical wall I was bound to hit when I just couldn't run anymore. I started to speed up and get into my regular groove. A buzz started around me with people commenting that we were almost "out" and to "get ready." I didn't know what was happening until I came out of the mouth of Central Park and into a screaming mass of spectators. I was staring straight into the heart of New York City. I was all done crying. I WAS SO PUMPED. 7th Avenue was completely blocked off and the hoards of people lining the streets were screaming encouragements to every runner. It startled me the first time I heard, "GO LKR! YOU CAN DO IT!!" and then I realized my name was on my shirt! Thank goodness, I'm wearing that from now on--what an inspiration! Being surrounded by people helps you pick up the pace; it's like treadmill racing the guy next to you just to make yourself feel better.
I knew my sister was at 47th Street and she was surprisingly easy to find. I was so excited to see her but I also wanted to keep running; I realized I was on my way to a PR.
After sharing a moment with my sister, I was SO HAPPY. I was smiling and waving and even sang along with the cast of Mamma Mia that was performing for us. After the turn onto 42nd Street I realized I only had 3 miles to go. THIS WAS EASY! I met a new friend, and we ran the whole rest of the way together. We turned down 12th Street and ran in the sun; it was beautiful. The signs people were holding up were no longer emotional but hysterical: "I'm impressed w/ your stamina. Call me (with her phone number)" and "Chafe now, celebrate later! Here's some vaseline on us!" (and they literally were holding out jars of the stuff!) and "5,084 feet to brunch, we are waiting for you!"
At my last water station, I realized why I loved this race so much. Everyone in New York City was selflessly doing whatever they could for us. As I was pausing for a drink and looking ahead at the finish line that seemed so far ahead, a man said to me, "LKR, look at me. I know you want to walk, but throw that cup and get back out there. You can do it!" I didn't even know the man but he was exactly what I needed.
I crossed the finish line happy with my new PR, yet a bit bummed that I was 15 seconds off of my goal time. I learned my lesson to stop being afraid and trust in my training. Next time I will find my regular race pace in the beginning and not worry about the "what ifs" that plague the best of us.
When I finished the Half Marathon in Rochester last year, I swore I would never run another one and went home to bed for the rest of the day. After this race, I felt great, was similing, and when people asked me if I would do it again, I answered, "TOTALLY!"
I am excited to figure out what my next goals are; days after the race I felt a bit sore but overall great. Makes me think there is more in store for me yet. So, as I cradle my bundle of joy finishing medal, I realize that this journey was one of the most inspiring of my life and something I will look back on when I really AM old and say, "Look what that young kid did! Bet she has a story to tell..."
