Philadelphia Half MarathonRace and Spectator Report

I went down to Philly this weekend and ran a half marathon today. This was the same race I ran last year so I had every reason to believe I'd do well, perhaps even PR again. Maybe it's because I was so confident I "knew" this course that I took it for granted and did not prepare adequately to run my best. I went through the motions and figured I'd just run to comfort and let things just take care of itself. I somehow convinced myself that my race wasn't all that important because my main reason for coming to Philly this weekend was to spectate and cheer my friends running the full marathon. I was running the half so I wouldn't have to stand out in the cold and wait as long for friends to finish and also so I wouldn't feel as guilty and lame watching the race from just in front of the Rocky statue at mile 26. I had no plan and that was perhaps my biggest problem.

Things for me went well for the first 4-5 miles. Although it was quite cold (~40F) at the start, I actually felt very comfortable running. I started very conservatively and was speeding up through the early going, running between 6:15-6:25 every mile, on pace for a PR, when my shoes felt loose and my laces suddenly became untied! That's when I realized I had absolutely forgotten to check my laces or double-knot them prior to this race. I cursed myself, pulled off to the side, took care of them the best I could with my cold numb fingers, and got back on the road only to find myself in that same predicament one mile later and a third time at mile 8. I figured I lost in total about 2 minutes of time because of my shoelace issues. Once I realized my race was ruined, it was hard to refocus on running fast again. Yet, I still managed to pull off a better finishing 5K time this year on my way to 1:26:54 than I did last year when I ran 2 minutes faster and set my PR there. I'm not sure there's a good takeaway from this race for me except to realize that I STILL make rookie running mistakes and I cannot just roll out of bed and run a good race even if my hotel was less than 2 blocks away from the start of the race! This is all right. I was humbled by running today. I feel you need to be that way sometimes to appreciate the training and the races where everything comes together. (One final takeaway from this race is that whoever is advertising Philly to be a flat course obviously did not run this race!)

Afterwards, I cleaned up, hiked to mile 26 and waited for the rest of the field to come through the finish. Unfortunately, my fellow compatriot who accompanied me on this trip, IronBrandon, developed G.I. issues at 11 and had to pull out at the half marathon point. (I'll let him tell you all the rest of the story...) Many others though did complete their journey and became marathoners. I even got to run a few hundred feet with my friend Madame Erica as she came through mile 26. I had so much fun cheering and spectating that I didn't even mind not running a good half earlier in the day. A couple of people even recognized and identified themselves to me as avid blog readers out on the course today, which was completely awesome!

So this trip was more about positives than negatives for me. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing old friends, meeting new ones, and watching them all become marathoners in the span of a few hours. It was a universal love fest for long distance running in Philly this weekend and I'm just so proud and happy that I got to be a part of the celebration.

NYRR Queens Half Marathon Race Recapaka The Run "On The Surface of the Sun"

I woke up bright and early Saturday morning with the usual mixture of dread, excitement, anxiety and restlessness that often accompany race morning. A thousand questions race through my mind as I prepared for the battle ahead.

Will I PR today...maybe go sub 1:24 for the first time on my hometown course?

Should I be conservative, aim for 1:25 and equal my best time this year on almost the same course?

Can I NOT embarrass myself in front of neighbors and friends and do worse than 1:27, please?

Before I could answer my own questions, I opened the patio door, stepped out onto balcony to preview race morning and almost fainted from the extreme humidity! Apparently, while I was asleep, Flushing had transformed overnight from a quiet suburban town into "the surface of the sun"! It was already insanely hot (84F) and humid (70%) at 5:45am - a full hour and fifteen minutes before the scheduled start! Needless to say, all my race goals and aspirations went out the door with me.

As I walked over to the start of this race with a Flyer teammate who had stayed with me the previous night, I was disappointed and slightly embarrassed that so many friends and Flyers were making the trek all the way from Manhattan just to run this race. Although I was enthused about having so many people visiting Flushing Meadow Park and experiencing this new half marathon course with me, I was equally nervous for the negative feedback from the runners on the park and the race due to the weather alone. As I arrived at the staging area amidst the throng of runners, walking, stretching, scurrying, and running (seriously?) in the extreme conditions, I wondered myself whether the race should be canceled in favor of a fun run.

I dropped my stuff in baggage, saw and greeted some friends and teammates I knew and headed to my starting corral. Amidst the constant barrage of heat advisories and reminders to "drink plenty" and "slow down" from the race directors and Mary Wittenberg at the podium, I thought about my previous misfortunes in races with hot weather and readjusted my goals for this race to the following: 1) No DNF; 2) No walking; 3) 1:30 finish If possible.

The Start and Mile 1

I had been drinking like a fish out of water ever since I got up this morning - downing a whole bottle of Gatorade just in the starting corral alone - so I was well hydrated for the long insufferable journey ahead. Still, as the command to start the race was finally given, and the horn sounded, I considered it strange that I never developed the urge to pee again after leaving home. Could it really be that hot and am I really sweating that much?

It was a balmy 86F with 66% humidity by the start of the race. There was a heavy cloud cover initially for the first half hour or so, shielding us from the devastation of the sun's unrelenting fury which we would all suffer through in the second half of the race. I started my journey through mile 1 running as conservative and fast as I thought my body can handle. Aside from a smattering of cheerful spectators consisting of friends and family, and the guys spray painting the Unisphere as we were running through, the park was eerily empty and still. (Mile 1 - 6:33)

Upon passing mile 1 and exiting the park, I looked at my mile split and realized instantly that even averaging marathon pace (6:51 min/mi for 1:30 finish) would not be possible today. I gave up trying to chase my only time goal I had remaining and vowed I'd take 2 cups of fluids at all the water station and run comfortably for the rest of the race.

Mile 2-5: The College Point Boulevard Miles

After taking some water and Gatorade at the first fluid station shortly after mile 1, I made the left turn onto College Point and dialed into my pace. On the out portion of this out-and-back stretch, I found a few hills I never knew existed despite living on the side of this boulevard for the past 12 months. That's because this is the second busiest thoroughfare street in all of Flushing and I avoid running here normally as much as possible. Running along it now with water stations instead of cars parked on the streets felt not only awkward to me, but to my astonished neighbors as well just walking by.

I ran at a conservative semi-tempo effort through these miles, keeping a similar pace as those of my neighbors. As I ran by the water stations at every mile, I jogged slowly, taking a cup of Gatorade then at least one full cup of water before picking back up the pace. I remember getting passed by a friend early in mile 3 who yelled out my name as he passed through. Otherwise, I was keeping speed with all of my neighbors, all of us wet and traveling together as if we're in the same school of fish swimming along a similar current.

After the turnaround point at mile 3.5, we headed back to the park the same way we came. The return trip was fun because we got to see friends and others we know coming up behind us. I got greeted by so many people, some I recognized, some I didn't that at times I couldn't even keep up. It was completely awesome though and I wished there were more NYRR races with long out and back portions where this could be a more common occurrence. As I ran, waved and cheered for those I could make out, the mile and a half quickly flew by. (Mile 2 - 6:38; Mile 3 - 6:44, Mile 4 - 6:49, Mile 5 - 6:45)

Mile 6-11: The Middle Park Miles and Meadow Lake

After the exhilaration of the return trip on College Point, the park now seemed so much lonelier now than when we had left it. Although we were running on Perimeter Road along the majestic Flushing Meadows Aquatic Center and the U.S.T.A. National Center, a path that I take almost daily, I could feel my enthusiasm and energy slowly fading away. The sun was fully shining now and mile by mile I was slowing down. By the time I reached Shea Road overlooking the back section of CitiField, it was all I could do to keep moving. To make matters worse, there was a spectator/volunteer at Mile 7 who kept yelling "Almost There...Almost There" at all the runners who were already struggling by this point. From the anger and vitriol I heard from fellow runners afterwards, I prayed for his livelihood after the race.

As for me, mile 7-8 were the toughest miles of the race. It was hot, it was humid, but above all that, I just lost interest in the race once I saw my pace creep over 6:50. I was tired, I was angry, and 5-6 miles left still seemed so far away to me. I wanted to walk so badly here, but as I struggled, I reminded myself that running would almost be impossible after walking. Walking was one step closer to a DNF. Would I consider walking and DNF'ing in my own hometown race? How embarrassing would that be? Once the option of walking was taken off the table, I told myself to slow down, acknowledged that this was a bad stretch, and kept running. Less than a mile later, I saw my Flyer friends LG, DL, and their little dog Grady on the sideline. They hollered and cheered and gave me the extra mental boost I needed to overcome my struggles.

We made a sharp right and started the loop around Meadow Lake at mile 9. Because this is my usual stomping grounds for speedwork and tempo runs, I'm familiar with running fast here on less than a full tank of gas. I took as much Gatorade and water as my stomach could handle at the water station at the start of this loop and powered through as if this just another speedwork day. I wanted to remain conservative but keep pace through the rest of this course. The sun was blazing, there was no shade, some runners were walking, but I just kept running. Even though my pace never picked up to anywhere near where it usually is when I'm running here, the effort remained extremely consistent which I was very proud of after the struggles I had in the miles before. (Mile 6 - 6:55, Mile 7 - 6:57, Mile 8 - 7:14, Mile 9 - 7:20, Mile 10 - 7:11, Mile 11 - 7:13)

Mile 12-13.1: The Zoo/Hall of Science Mile and The Finish

Once we were done with the lake, the last two miles of the race took us to the finish via a running path that ran alongside the Queens Zoo and the Hall of Science. Honestly though, most of us who made it this far along in the race were not too interested in the sideline scenery. We just wanted to see the finish and end the suffering. I ran through mile 12 with this same attitude in mind. However, at some point in the middle of it all, I checked my heart and noticed that it was still hovering in the 160s. Since my max HR is 198 and my interval HR is usually in 170s, I was very surprised to see my heart rate so low so late in this race. This signified to me that I really did have a lot left in the tank, so I threw caution to the wind and kicked it in the last mile. I opened up my legs and sprinted as if I was in a one-mile time trial. I surprised myself by dropping my pace by almost a whole min/mile. I passed by at least 6-8 runners on that last mile and finished the race with the MC announcing my name as I crossed the line. Torture fest OVER! (Mile 12 - 7:11, Mile 13 - 6:18, Last 0.1M - 0:33)

After the race, I drank ten cups of water, five cups of Gatorade and still felt as if I was still dehydrated. I met up with fellow Flyers and traded war stories on what we had just gone through. For many of us, this was perhaps the most extreme conditions we've ever experienced in a race. For me, this was by far the hottest and most humid race I've ever been involved in. (Yes, for those wondering, this was even worse than it was at the New Jersey Marathon where there was at least a cool ocean breeze for the start and finish on the boardwalk!) I'm glad everyone I knew made it through okay and we didn't have to pick anyone up at the medical tent. From the post-race chatter, it seemed that everyone took it easy and made it a fun run for them even if it was not officially one. As for the course, even though I know there will be many who will disagree with me, I think Flushing Meadows Park and College Point represented the neighborhood pretty well today. There were no issues with crowd control, the roads were for the most part smooth and unobstructed, and it was relatively convenient for people to get to from the city.

I am excited for the opportunity to race this course again next year. Only this time, maybe I'll hold a seance the night before to ask the weather gods to have pity on us and turn down the furnace for just one summer race!

Official Statistics
Finishing Time - 1:30:28
Average Pace - 6:55 min/mi
Overall Place - 70th out of 3668
Age Graded Pct - 65.7%
Age Group Place - 19th out of 473
NY Flyers Men - 1st

Queens Half Marathon (2010)Part I - The Preview

So do you know? Did you hear? The Queens Half Marathon is almost here! Yeah, it's this weekend, on Saturday. But if you're not running it or from the local area, then you probably don't know about it. Just FYI, it is one in a series of half marathons taking place in the city every year - one in every borough. For 2010, I've done Manhattan (in January) and Brooklyn (in May). It so happened that I had pacing responsibilities for each of those two previous races, but will be running on my own pretty much this time in Queens. Another tidbit that will make this race somewhat interesting is that they've changed the venue from McNeil Park in Whitestone (which was a logistical nightmare for all to get to) to Flushing Meadows Park and College Point Boulevard in Flushing. Unfortunately, to accommodate this change, the date for the race was shifted as well, from early fall (late September) to mid-summer (this weekend). As one of a dying breed of runners who live and run in Queens, I applaud the shift in venue (since it took me an hour to get to the start last year living less than 4 miles away!) although I wonder if NYRR really could have picked a more appropriate date for a half marathon than mid-July. Nevertheless, I'm so excited to be running this race! Not only does the course run right underneath my balcony, but it also highlights some of the best areas in Flushing Meadows Park, where I train and run every day. I'm so happy that a couple thousand of my NYC running friends will be coming out early on Saturday morning to run in MY hood and MY park with ME. It's all going to feel like one gigantic running group (or a big circus) with me as one of the ringleaders.

As for my own desires and aspirations for this race, I really don't know what kind of time I should expect myself to run! On the one hand, I know it's summer, it's likely to be hot, and given my propensity to blow up in the middle of halves in temps over 80 degrees, I should not be racing this race at all. On the other hand, I know I'm more acclimated to running in warmer temperatures now than I've ever been (thanks to throwing myself out there everyday for workouts in spite of the weather). My higher mileage marathon training has also been going well and I desperately want to use this race as a litmus test to assess my fitness. According to indications from workouts, I think I am due for an adjustment in training paces. However, I won't know if I decide to take it easy and not push myself in this race. Then there's the whole issue of running well here and "defending my own turf". This is MY house now so I really have no excuse for not bringing my 'A' game out to play. Given the seasonal heat wave, I probably will not come close to a PR on Saturday, but then again, I don't have to lay an egg out their either.

So if the weather is tolerable (close to 80F/70% humidity) on race day, here's what I'm thinking in terms of race goals:

C - Sub 1:27:00

B - Sub 1:26:30

B+ - Sub 1:26:00

A- - Sub 1:25:30

A - Sub 1:25:00

A+ - Sub 1:24:30

A++ - PR (Sub 1:24:15)

Dream - Sub 1:24:00

Feel free to predict my time. As a bit of background, I've already ran sub 1:25 three times in the past 12 months, including my PR of 1:24:15 in the Philly Half. I also did a 1:24:59 in my last half in NYC 13.1 after running off the course and losing about a minute of total time back n April. Therefore, I'm sure I'm capable of running sub-1:25 in ideal conditions. The only caveat of course is that Saturday will not be ideal conditions. Rumor has it that Saturday will be the hottest day of week (all lies, I say!) so running the same time as I did in April will likely not be possible. As a compromise, I think I'll just shoot for sub-1:25:30 as a conservative goal for race day. Victory will be mine at the finish line if I can get close to 1:25:30 and NOT end up in the medical tent in the middle or post race. That will be enough for me.

If you're running this race, take it easy and good luck! I'll be running in my red Saucony race gear and Kinvaras so look for me and say hi! Otherwise, come back Saturday afternoon/night and read my race report. I'm sure it will be riveting (unless you think I'm as pathetic and narcistic as these guys do...).

P.S. I'm thinking of sending out a courtesy memo to all my neighbors with this song on a postcard. I'm sure they'll all be so enthused.

You better watch out,

You better not cry

Better not pout

I'm telling you why

The Half-Marathon is coming to town!

A Tale of Two People and Their Chase for 1:30Race Report from the 2010 Brooklyn Half Marathon

Ever since I've been a marathoner, I've had a recurring nightmare that comes about once a year usually around the time I'm tapering for a big race. In it, I'm at the end or near the end of a big marathon, running well, feeling great, and heading towards a big PR when all of a sudden, a runner crashes to the ground right next to me and I find myself in an ethical bind. Do I stop and help my fellow runner, providing medical assistance where I can, knowing sometimes minutes or seconds can be the difference between life and death or do I keep running and trust that a volunteer and/or medical personnel will come to the rescue soon? What should I do? What is the right course of action to take as a runner and as a doctor? It's a split second decision, but in my dreams, it can last much longer. I always wake up before the decisive decision is ever made so I never quite figure out the right answer, but whether I'm asleep or awake, it is a scenario that haunts me constantly...

It's 3:45AM on a Saturday morning. Besides two overly excitable drunken couples staggering along on the opposite side of the street, the road I'm walking down is quiet and lonely. They must be having a laugh over why a funny looking Asian guy in a tech shirt and too short shorts would be up at this ungodly hour walking toward the train when the only people who are awake now are struggling to get home. To be honest, I'm kind of wondering the same thing. What was I thinking way back in March when I signed up for this half marathon in Prospect Park? Even worse, why am I following through with this even after figuring out that traveling to Brooklyn from Queens would require in excess of an hour and half for a race that starts at 7AM? Didn't we just make an official running rule the last time we made this trip and failed that I would never again travel to a NYC race that takes longer to get to by mass transit than time actually spent running the race? I struggled with the answers to these questions as I waited for the 4:06 LIRR train from Flushing into the city. All I could come up in my half-awaken state was a refrain from a poem I memorized as a kid which read - "...But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep."

It's now 6AM, and although the darkness has disappeared, the air is still cool, misty and damp on this early race morning. I'm sitting along the side of the road in Prospect Park gathering my things and eagerly awaiting the arrival of a teammate, a friend, and my Ragnar Relay captain. A couple nights ago, DC asked for a volunteer to be a 1:30 pacer for this race. Since I knew I didn't want to race all-out but did want to know whether I was fit enough to carry a 3:00 marathon pace comfortably and consistently for the half, I eagerly accepted her invitation. This is not a new course to me, since I ran, died, and sprinted to a 1:26 at this place a year ago. To carry someone through this treachery successfully and effectively, however, will be an entirely different task altogether. I go the mental checklist of things to do and to avoid that I had compiled the last time I paced a friend at a half marathon and did my best to calm my nerves as I waited for the Flyer bus from Manhattan to arrive.

It's an hour later, 7AM, and we're moments away from the start of the race. I'm lined up with DC and another good friend JB in the second corral. DC is telling me that this was a big PR attempt for her (I had not known this prior) and that she wanted to start slow, warm up over the hills in Prospect Park and speed up on the straight away down to Coney Island. JB isn't sure what he wants to do but figures he'd start with us and drop back to a slower pace at some point during the race. I am processing all of this new information while making my own mental calculations on what a realistic "slow-start fast-finish strategy" pace should be for a 1:30. Everyone starts moving. We do the same. The race is ON!

I fully expected the first mile to be slow since avoiding the crowds at the start of a sold-out race is darn near impossible, especially from the second corral. I intended to lead my group of two over the first hill at a consistent 7:00 clip without too much weaving and swerving but people around us were moving just too slowly. I keep an eye on DC and JB who aree trailing about 15-20 feet behind me while finding as clear a path to run through as possible. We pass the first mile marker at 7:05, which is a little slower than I had wanted but figure we'd have plenty of time to make this back up. We are now cruising downhill a bit, or so I thought, when all of a sudden DC moves off the road, onto the grass by the side, holding her left side. I follow her and stop. She tells me she can't continue and to go on without her. I panic. "What? What do I do now?" I ask myself. She limps for a few steps, and stops. She is clearly in a lot more pain than I've ever seen her. This is a woman who's conquered a 50 miler a couple months prior, a 25K two weeks ago, and ran an "extra leg" as team captain a week prior. So to see her limping and grimacing in severe agony wasn't something I had prepared for. I badger her for more information. "It's my hip. My hip. It hurts. I can't move my hip." I ask her to stop limping and lay down on the ground. She reluctantly complies. I proceed to spend the next five or ten minutes stretching and massaging her leg, hoping against hope that it was all just a bad nasty cramp. But it seemed like the more I worked on her, the more I was hurting her. So I stopped after a good while and just asked her to lay flat on her back and hold tight. By now, a couple of volunteers had stopped by and were placing a call for a medical cart. All around us, the race is continuing uninterrupted. Friends and Flyers were asking every few seconds if everything is alright. I wave them by knowing there's not much more that can be done. I'm amazed by all the runners in the crowd that recognize us. I'm also surprised by those that don't but pretend to care anyway. After a few more minutes, DC acknowledges that the searing pain has been replaced by a dull numbness now. I tell her not to get up. She tells me that she this will be her first DNF race. We wait some more. JB sees us on his second lap around the park and runs towards us onto the grass. DC and I both tell him not to stop but to run hard and grab his PR instead (which he eventually did!) We watch more runners pass. Some people call out to me by the wrong name. For the last time, my name does NOT start with a B! DC and I share a laugh. The medical volunteer tells us that he's already placed two calls through his walkie talkie already. We surmise that they are probably waiting for the roadway to be cleared of runners before bringing over the cart knowing that this wasn't a critical situation. We go on to think that I'd probably would have to take the train to get my stuff at the finish all the way out in Coney Island. It probably would be much faster for me to run the course to get there instead of taking the train. DC tells me to run. I ask if she'll be okay. She assures me with a nod and a grin and I take off.

It's been about 35 or 40 minutes since the race began and somehow, for some reason, I'm back on the road again. I blend myself in with the moving crowd and slowly feel my legs moving faster with every stride. Mile 2 in 6:55. Mile 3 in 6:37. Not too bad. I make my way haphazardly through the sparse and sporadic crowd like a kid who's lost his mother in a marching street parade. Mile 4 - 6:40. Whoa, that last hill was a little tough. Suddenly the road splits off into one lane for the second lap and another for exiting the park. For a split second, I thought about cutting my losses and joining the crowd who were all done with mile 7 and moving on to Ocean Parkway. Who cares? My race is shot anyway. Who's gonna know if I skip a few miles and run with the masses instead? But I don't. I bid the runners adieu and go on to run my second loop around Prospect Park. Mile 5 - 7:03. Mile 6 - 7:03. I'm running by myself, way far out in the back of the pack now. I slowed down purposefully during the second loop around not so much because I was tiring, but more because I lost focus and interest in running fast. What's the point now that I lost DC? I'm going to finish with a horrific time anyway. Why shouldn't I just jog this in? Then I remembered why I was here, why I wanted to do this in the first place. I wanted to learn to run consistently and be better at pacing. I decide right there and then, somewhere in the 7th mile, to dedicate the rest of this race to DC and run if we're still on pace for 1:30. I invigorate myself at the next water stop with several cups of Gatorade and begin my assault against the course, the Garmin and my own imaginary clock.

Mile 7 - 6:45. Mile 8 - 6:47. Escaping the humidity of the park was a gossend although running along Ocean Parkway with no shade was still a bit tough. I fight my way back to the crowds now although the need to weave and dodge all the slower runners made the experience a bit unpleasant. I tried to be especially courteous and cautious around the water tables but the constant bump and grind of walkers there made the hydration trips always an adventure.

Mile 9 - 6:51. Mile 10 - 6:56. I was starting to tire noticeably as the miles dragged on. My legs which had been fresh and eager to run in the first miles of the park have been replaced by wooden pegs that winced and creaked with every footfall. I got noticeably annoyed by the constant parade of slower runners who always seemed to get in my way the harder I tried to avoid them. I finally took a GU at mile 10 and told myself not to whimper in the last 5K.

Mile 11 - 6:47, Mile 12 - 6:51, Mile 13 - 6:44, Last 0.1M - 0:41. The ending to the running saga was a little bit of a blur to me. I succinctly remember trying to rally my neighbors to blast through the last 5K. I also remember feeling as if I wasn't going to make my time. I don't remember though what I saw or how I exactly felt running the last few miles. By the time I reached the boardwalk for the last 0.1M, everyone was already there having a ball and enjoying the nice weather day. I remember crossing the finish line, knowing that I had made my time (officially 2:04:23; unofficially 1:29:52), yet feeling kind of sad that I lost my partner in the heat of battle. Most of all, I just missed my friend.

The after party at Beer Island with Flyers and friends was bittersweet as I had to regale the story of DC and me to all those who saw us laying there on the side of the road. Since she didn't have her phone, I wasn't even able to contact her until way after the fact. Still, everyone who's heard the story think I went above and beyond in helping her deal with her injuries right there on the spot. I don't really see it that way. To be honest, the decision to stop and help was purely instinctual, especially for me as a member of the medical profession. It never really cross my mind to do anything different. Correct me if I'm wrong, but would anyone really leave their injured buddy on the side of a road and not help? I seriously hope not. For as my running mentor (who is himself a doctor) once told me, "To be a runner, you must be the person first."

Heal well, DC. It was a complete honor to run with you.

A Race I Had No Business RunningRace Report for the New Jersey/Long Branch Half Marathon (Part II)

Race Day Morning

6:15AM comes way too early for me as my FC wakes me about 45 minutes after we had scheduled to be up. He had showered, gotten dressed and eaten half his breakfast by the time I was able to convince my weary body to get out of bed and get ready. Thanks to my coughing fiasco in the middle of the night, I was exhausted and had a migraine upon waking. I knew right then that this day would not end well for me and gave a fleeting thought about not even attempting the half. But a couple of Motrins later with half a banana, and I somehow convinced myself to defer the decision until I got to the start area and see all my Flyer friends who had made the trek down from the Big City to run this race. Of course by the time I got there and met up with everyone about an hour later, I forgot all about my fatigue, exhaustion and sickness and made plans with Flyer JB to at least start off the race running together. In the back of my mind, no matter how crappy I felt, I was still thinking that I can run 13.1 with no problems. After all, this was my 22nd such race and never once have I had trouble completing the distance.

At The Start

The weather was sunny and already quite warm by the time JB and I made our way over to the race start a few minutes before 9am. Although everyone was weary about how hot it would eventually get, it was actually quite pleasant at the start on the boardwalk thanks to the constant breeze of the New Jersey shore. JB thought we should try to keep a 7:15 min/mi pace for the first miles so we situated ourselves adjacent to the 3:10 marathon pace group. Upon my arrival, I was greeted by a blog reader who recognized me and said he was a big fan, which was way cool! Then, as we waited, I tried to calm down my head which had been pulsating mixed annoying messages ever since I got off the bus. I still had my Gatorade bottle with me and was taking sips at a consistent clip which was good, but suddenly realized that I had forgotten to eat my orange and bagel which I left in my dropoff bag, which was bad. As I watched the final seconds tick off to the start of the race, I reiterated my plan to run this race to enjoy myself so I can cheer on the others running the marathon afterwards.

The "Good" Miles (1 - 4)

Although we were near the front, JB and I still had to do wiggle and tease our way through the heavy crowd through the first mile. Powered by the high emotion from the starting line I felt tired but okay in the early going. The spectators lining the course were loud and boisterous and it was wonderful to be cheered on by them as I made my way into Monmouth. Mile 2 felt smooth as I sped up incrementally to move slightly ahead of the 3:10 pace group. Although JB was still with me, matching my cadence stride for stride, I was already losing steam by the start of mile 3. It was getting warm and the cool ocean breeze could not be felt inland. My last good mile came in mile 4 as I battled the sun, my well-being and dehydrated state to run until after the overpass entrance to Oceanport. (M1 - 7:02; M2 - 6:57; M3 - 7:11; M4 - 7:24)

The "Bad" Miles (Miles 5-9)

Somewhere in the 5th mile, when my mind lost its battle with the sun, and I gave up all hope of running anymore, I excused myself from running with JB and surrendered myself to taking my first walk break. Now, I had never taken a walk break this early in a race before. My first instinct was to go back from where I come and just except a DNF. But doing so would mean walking against the crowd, potentially facing embarrassment and ridicule. So I walked until my heart rate was calm and stable and attempted to run again. I was able to make it half a mile before having to walk again. I also took time to refill my Gatorade bottle which I had been carrying since the start. The sun was much higher and brighter now, which was starting to have its effects on the runners all around me. Once I restarted running again by M6, I forced myself to run slow and slower than I had been having before and to make it as far as I could without stopping. M7 was faster. M8 faster still as I saw Jocelyn crossing the bridge and called out her name. I bargained, pleaded and sang songs aloud to pass the time. As I ran, I kept asking myself the same questions other had for me: Why was I/he running this race? (M5 - 9:30; M6 - 9:19; M7 - 7:56; M8 - 7:28, M9 - 7:37)

The "Ugly Miles" (M10-13.1)

By the time I crossed 10, I had no energy left to fight. I had seen others drop like a bag of rocks on other side of me. It was a bit scary to see paramedics running around like crazy trying to deal with it all. A big part of me wanted to stop and help out the first aide team but I knew without the specific training, I'd be as helpful as a commoner. Still, when i did try to help by holding others down as they scampered to their feet after falling badly a few minutes earlier, I got unintentionally wacked on my legs so hard, it added to the laundry list of injuries I was collecting on that same extremity. So I let them go and just went about finishing this race the best I could. I walked for the last time at 10.5 miles and raced myself in with the ocean breeze once again at my back. Needless to say, my 1:46:23 finishing time was a personal worst for me! (M10 - 9:42; M11 - 9:38; M12 - 8:53; M13.1 - 7:40)

After the race, I collected myself and did all I could to celebrate my friends who took the plunge to round up another lap around town and finish the marathon. I even went with JB to edge of the boardwalk at M25 and cheered on runners as they came in for the finish mile. I saw big people, little people, fast people, and slower folk each doing all they can to muster up even enough to make it one more mile (plus .2) to make it across that finish line. Just watching them made me realize why I bothered to race my half marathon that day, why I bothered even with my sick health, inadequate sleep and decrepit body to attempt to run 13.1. By reading this list, maybe I can make you understand too!

13 Reasons Why I Ran The New Jersey/Long Branch 13.1
1. Because every start line marks the beginning of a new adventure, a new story, just waiting to be told.
2. Because I was hoping to inspire Flyer and friends out on the course who might not have known I was coming.
3. Because running is an expression of health and I desperately wanted to feel healthy again.
4. Because I wanted to be recognized as living (finisher) rather than counted amongst the dead (DNS/DNF)
5. Because SLOW is the new FAST: You experience more, you see more, the crowds love you more AND You have more fun!
6. Because sometimes just winning against the mind and body is a victory enough all onto itself.
7. Because a race is not just about a time, but the thoughts, emotions, and experiences you had along the way.
8. Because I genuinely believe that someone somewhere will benefit by my starting, running, and finishing this race.
9. Because that's how I'm choosing to define my own awesomeness today.
10. Because sometimes you have to hurt a little to have a whole lot of fun.
11. Because I've met both the hero and the villain this week, and surprise, surprise, they are both just ME!
12. Because if I've messed up everything prior to this race, I can still do this one thing right!
13. Because I really wanted to like running again even if running didn't want to like me back.

A Race I Had No Business Running:Race Report for the New Jersey/Long Branch Half Marathon (Part I)

Prelude to A Race That Wasn't

This wasn't supposed to be a race weekend for me. After all, I've been blogging, texting, twittering, e-mailing and telling everyone and anyone who would listen all through the week that the New Jersey Marathon was completely dead to me. Sick, injured, and untrained, I was supposed to be spending the weekend safe at home, resting and recovering and planning my comeback strategy. So how did it came to be that I confused everybody (including most of my friends) by showing up at the start of a race on Sunday that I practically swore off two days ago? Obviously, there was a motive, a plan, a failed execution and one GIGANTIC miscalculation...

The Motive

By the middle of the week, when it became apparent that running the marathon would be an impossibility for me, I immediately worried that my absence would be a detriment to the morale of the many Flyer friends who had literally and virtually trained together with me for this marathon. I really wanted to be there for them since they've always been there for me. And since my hotel room near the start was non-transferable and I had already confirmed travel plans with a friend (FC) who was driving down anyways to run the marathon, I figured I would go down to Jersey and surprise some people by showing up unannounced on the sidelines during the race and cheering them on as they ran strong to the finish. In my mind, this was always how it was supposed to go down. Maybe I could run with a few of them for a half mile or so, but that was the extent of the running I was planning to do.

The Plan (to Run 13.1)

The decision to run the half only came when I thought I had turned the corner on this flu-like illness and was solidified after my 10K run on Friday. Never mind the run itself felt like death and each breath I took resembled breathing through molasses, I was fairly certain that despite my sickness, I would have no problems with the 13.1 on this course. Why was I so confident? Was it justified? As I laid in bed later that night preparing for the next day's travel, I asked myself the same question. But given that I had done 21 of these (half marathons) previously, the most by far of any other distance, a couple of my best times were done on this same course in the two prior years (1:27:28 in 2008 and 1:25:16 in 2009) - both PRs by the way - and I felt a need for a longish weekend run to signal my return to the living (and possibly training), I made up my mind that I would run 13.1 slowly and unannounced before cheering like heck for all my friends running 26.2.

Failed Execution (a.k.a. A Day of FAILs)

The ride on Saturday morning down to the Jersey shore was uneventful and everything was going according to plan until I grew a conscience and decided to text one of my Flyer friends JB right before hitting the expo to ask whether everyone (who were planning to arrive on race day) had arranged for someone to pick up bibs (since race day pickup cost $20 extra while pre-race day pickup at expo was free). He told me that as a group, no one was able to find anyone else coming early and so they had all forked over an extra $20 each to arrange for race day pickup. Of course since I never bothered to inform anyone that I was not only coming to the race but a day early to change my race and pick up my own bib, I wasted $100+ that could've gone toward a sweet post-marathon celebration party. Nice, Lam, very nice...NOT =( This was FAIL #1.

FAIL #2 was a bit more insidious. Because we were busy driving from place to place, finding places to eat, sleep, shop, as well as hitting the beach for a little pre-race fun, FC (who was running the marathon) and I neglected to hydrate as well as we should. It was hot, hazy, and humid, and all the local weather reports publicized much of the same for the next day's race. Although I had a bottle of water with me at all times and took sips whenever I remembered, at no point during the day did I feel adequately rehydrated. Similarly, at no point did my pee resemble the pristine color of natural spring water. This did not worry me as much as it should have. FAIL #2.

FAIL #3 was technically not my fault, although in retrospect it should have counted as the third strike. Could I really have done anything about waking up at midnight with a coughing fit that just would not stop? I hadn't coughed at night the entire week and in my mind was already recovering. Could I have helped, rooming with marathoners on race eve, besides bringing my pillow into the bathroom with me, shutting the door and attempt to sleep in the bathtub so as not to wake up the others? Yep, I slept in the bathtub for about an hour until i was sure my coughing fits were gone before venturing out and climbing back into my own bed. So is it surprising then that I got less than four hours of productive sleep on race eve? Probably not. What is surprising though is that I failed to recognize the tremendous toll that the lack of sleep would have on my already decrepit body. Why can't I see that BEFORE the race as opposed to IN RETROSPECT? FAIL #3.

Little did I know all of these factors would combine to sabatoge my run, torment my soul and complete the race I had no business running in the next day...

My "Silva"-like PerformanceRace Report for the NYC 13.1 (Part II)

Mile 7-8: (Mile 7 - 6:31; Mile 8 - 6:24)

Crossing the mile 6 marker at the top of the overpass leading over to Meadow Lake, I stared at the half dozen or so characters who used my mishap in the previous mile to sneak past me in the race. Back again was Mr. Tri-athlete who was now accompanied by a coach running directly next to him. In front of him was the Mr. Lacrosse Jersey and Mr. Heel Striker whose unorthodox running form made it not only annoying but painful to watch. Way in the distance, I could also see Mr. Baldie leading the pack, about 50 yards in front of everyone else. I wasn't sure how much time I had lost at this point since I didn't bother to check my mile split but judging roughly from the pace of the other racers, I thought 45 seconds was a conservative estimate. As I started on my journey around Meadow Lake with all the others, fueled with a passionate mixture of fury, indignation, annoyance and embarrassment, I couldn't help but think of German Silva and the brief wrong turn he made in the final mile of the New York City Marathon before ultimately claiming victory in 1994.

Although it was quite demoralizing to see the long string of runners who I passed a few miles back now suddenly running in front, I also knew that I had the capacity to pass them right back if I can just maintain my race pace for a little while longer. I used all of mile 7 and half of mile 8 to regain my rightful place in the moving carousel around the park until I found myself once gain behind the leader of my immediate pack. Although I hadn't seen him before then, I could tell he was a serious runner by the matching tank and shorts that adorned his slender body. I allowed him to lead me through Meadow Lake, which was made treacherous by residual water puddles left over from the rainstorm in the weekend prior. As I watched him jump from road to grass and back again to avoid the bigger puddles, I followed suit until towards the end of mile 8 when I was forced to the edge of the grass just as he was about to climb back over the overpass. Coincidentally. that would be the last I would see of him out in the course that day.

Mile 9-10: (Mile 9 - 6:31; Mile 10 - 6:19)

By Mile 9, as we were led back over the bridge for a second loop around the perimeter of the park, I began to fatigue and tire just a little bit. Since the last mile, when I had company to tackle the wet and narrow paths of Meadow Lake, I hadn't encountered anyone else attacking this course in front of me. Although I knew I wouldn't get lost on this second journey around the park, it was extremely difficult to maintain race pace when there are no visible runners in front of me. All I saw were more and more neighbors using the roads as their personal playground and obstructing my view of the race course and its participants. I passed by a water station and everyone clapped and cheered me as I ran across. Since no other racer was within earshot of them, I was sure the applause was a personal gesture for me. I picked up the pace slightly and took a GU at 10. We were now just a 5K away.

Mile 11-12: (Mile 11 - 6:32; Mile 12 - 6:26)

Passing back through the starting line and climbing the same semi-circular incline I did in mile 1, I was now holding onto my effort and pace for dear life. I was tired and with no to chase in front and no one to push me in back, I almost convinced myself not to push as hard. But then I remembered that there were many family and friends who were running and looking for me (albeit figuratively) to do well and represent. What if they saw that I was moseying it in and not giving the absolutely best that I've got? Would that really be the right message for me to send, as the ambassador of the sport I claim to be? Besides...we've now got less than a 5K to go anyway. I force myself to pick up the speed in an effort to give top 10 one more shot. A race official nearby signals that I'm in 11th place but could not tell me how far behind I was.

The park was getting crowded now and it was all I could do to separate the recreational joggers from the possible race participants and volunteers. By the time we completed the loop around the Queens Zoo and back over the overpass nearing the end of mile 12, I had given up trying to find the next racer. The end was now just 2 miles away and I just wanted to get there as soon as I can. Unfortunately, at this point, there wasn't much fuel left in the tank. I poured it on as best as I could.

Mile 13, the last 0.1, and the Finish: (Mile 13 - 6:20; Last 0.1M - 0:38)

Upon reaching the final stretch which started at the entrance to the Queens Museum of Art and ends at the central rotunda, I knew it was time to go. I convinced myself that this is just a one mile interval (or tried to anyway) and sprinted as I could. Spectators were lining up by the dozens to cheer me on. I could see the finish line a half mile away. I sprinted faster once I realize we were just 800m from being done. The cruelest joke was when the course forced us to run a short circular loop around the man made Center Lake when we got close to the finish. I had been sprinting for quite a while and was exhaustedly tired. I held it together the best I could for the final push over the finish line. It was only after I was done did I see my time and realize that my detour at 6M cost me more than 45 seconds. I lost 70 seconds, a PR chance and an age group award all at the same time!

After the Finish

Once I finished, collected my breath and got my things, I went back to the finish line to cheer on the other runners as they came in. While I was watching, I was approached by a local paper who wanted to interviewed me as it seemed that I was the first overall local to finish the rest. He asked me why and how I became a runner. As we talked, I realized that it wasn't so important that I came in 11th overall, or 4th in my age group, or the 1st in Flushing. The best part of the story was that I made a mistake mid-race and yet found some inner fortitude to keep running, to keep fighting, and to savage a good performance out of what easily could have been a DNF! No, the final result wasn't indicative of the effort I put forth today, but I got to run, I got to race, and inspire at least those who will read my story that sometimes awesomeness isn't defined by a time on a clock.

Final Statistics
Official Time - 1:24:59
Average Pace - 6:29 min/mile
Overall Place - 11/2103
Age Group Place - 4/177
Age Grade - 70%

My "Silva"-like PerformanceRace Report for the NYC 13.1 (Part I)

Introduction

After running 20 half marathons, I would have figured that I've encountered pretty much very scenario that could come up in a 13.1 mile race. Whether it's pacing issues, fueling problems, Garmin mishaps, or dealing with annoying guy who wouldn't get off your tail no matter whether you sped up or slowed down, you name it, I've dealt with it. So maybe it was destined that in a race where the element of surprise was supposed to be minimal for me, I would find myself in a completely foreign situation that would have a significant impact on the outcome of this race.

Before The Start

I arrived at the starting line of the inaugural NYC 13.1 (Half) Marathon with supreme confidence that I was going to have a good race. My training has been stellar in terms of endurance, stamina, and speed, I had minimal to no injury concerns and the weather was absolutely perfect for race morning. But even aside from all of those factors, I predicted I was going to turn in a stellar performance today because the race was being held, for the first time, in Flushing Meadows Park, which just happens to be my home park! Since I train here almost on a daily basis, I knew the exact location of all the puddles, all the cracks, all the curves, and all the troublesome areas to avoid on this inaugural course. As I waited for the Star Spangled Banner and final announcements to be made, I was determined to let my "home field advantage" guide me to a new half marathon PR.

Miles 1-2: (Mile 1 - 6:12; Mile 2 - 6:15)

The starting horn sounded at exactly 9:15AM and I see the first pack of runners take off after the pace car and cyclists leading the charge. Because the start and the first quarter mile of the course were situated in the back roads of Arthur Ashe Stadium, hidden from view of anyone not directly associated with the race, the whole spectacle looked more like a scene from an illegal drag race in a back alley in Long Island City than the start of a 13.1 mile run through a park in Flushing Queens! Soon it was my turn and I take off at a fast and steady pace while trying to avoid the packs of newbie runners wearing the green 13.1 race t-shirt on either side. The temperature was in the upper fifties and there was a cool breeze greeting all the runners as we exited the shadows and unleashed ourselves onto the course. After about a quarter mile of weaving and dodging runners who had no business running in front, I found myself running comfortably in the clear, albeit single file with the other speedsters around the perimeter of the park. Once I was out of danger, I concentrated on running with good form and established a steady rhythm with my breathing and footstriking. While I was doing that, a guy in a lacrosse jersey and backwards hat was falling behind and leapfrogging me a few times within the first mile. I gave him room to practice his praying mantis antics, knowing full well that no one with a backwards hat can keep up with me for very long. Sure enough, after we crossed the first mile marker, he faded behind and was never heard from again.

I checked my split for the first mile and was surprised that I had taken it out so fast, considering all the congestion I faced at the start. I was still feeling strong though so I didn't panic when several frontrunners began slowing down, allowing me to surge ahead. We pass by the first water station and cheer zone as we made our way through the perimeter of the park on the second mile. The sun had risen a bit higher now and was starting to exert its influence on this race. I took a cup of water from a cheerful volunteer, drank, and sped up a little to maintain contact with the runner in front. Although I was making sure to run my own race at my own pace, I was excited that I was already picking people off this early in the race. As I scaled the bridge that went over a scenic stream and pass by the mile 2 marker, I saw a race director point toward me and yell "11th overall."

Miles 3-4: (Mile 3 - 6:19; Mile 4 - 6:27)

We're returning back to the starting line in mile 3 although the scene looks completely different now that all the runners are gone. All we got are more spectators clapping and cheering and water stops serving more water and Gatorade. I tried to thank and acknowledge their applause but soon thought better of it when I realized that expending excess energy at Mile 3 of a half marathon would not be such a good idea. So I continued running and breathing at a metronomic rhythm, my attention transfixed on the two runner in front of me, flanking either side of the road. Although I was now beyond 5k, my mind was still deciphering what it heard a quarter mile back. Did I hear right? Am I really in 11th place? Maybe he meant in my age group? But he couldn't have known my age...hmmm. I had joked with my friend before the race that the professional and elites were all probably racing the 10K in Central Park today, leaving us wannabes to duke it out here, but to be 11th place overall in a race of a couple thousand sounded insane to me. So I blocked the thoughts from my head and focused on the task at hand.

Towards the end of Mile 3, we run up a big semicircle incline onto an overpass that led us toward the back section of the park. Although I was a bit apprehensive that running 10K PR pace in the first three miles of a half marathon could ultimately prove foolish, I couldn't resist the rush to use the windy hill to surge ahead. So as I use my hill training expertise to steadily climb up and over the overpass, I first pass the guy on my left who is obviously a heel striker and then the guy on my right who annoyed me with his triathlete uniform and knee high socks. Seriously, guys? That's why you had to be passed. Once I was clear, I checked my mile 3 time and was pleasantly surprised that it was still in the six-teens. Some quick math told me that I was a full thirty seconds below PR pace by this point. If I could somehow maintain the effort, victory (in terms of a PR) would be mine!

Mile 4 brings runners on the outskirts of the Queens Zoo then around a large oval that surrounds a couple of baseball fields before returning back to the northern section of the park via an overpass. Although I usually take time when I'm around here to sneak a peek inside the cages to say hi to animals, I couldn't afford to do so knowing that more than a couple of runners were hot on my tail. Because of the surge and the incline leading back to the overpass, I faded a bit on this mile back to my half marathon PR pace. I was suspecting that I was quickly losing ground tot he other competitors, the sight of the runner in front far off in the distance becoming closer at each quarter mile told me otherwise.

Miles 5-6: (Mile 5 - 6:20; Mile 6 - 7:39)

Exiting the overpass, the course makes a sharp left as it passes by the entrance to the Queens Museum of Art and the front gate of the USTA National Tennis Center before making its return to the northeastern sections of the park. I was familiar with this portion of the course because I run a significant portion of this road for 800 intervals. Mr. bald guy in blue shorts was fading fast toward me now and I invoked my speedwork legs to surge slightly faster to catch up to him. Before I did, a tall skinny high school athlete who I haven't yet seen, suddenly appears from behind me and overtakes the both of us. A few minutes later, I pass the fading baldie. In my mind though, this was only a draw since I exited mile 5 in the same overall place that I entered. One of the race director confirmed my suspicions when he yelled "9th Place - Good Job!" as I passed by.

Mile 6 was an unorthodox circular route that took us around the inside of the park toward an overpass that would eventually lead toward Meadow Lake. I started mile 6 for sure that 8th was pretty much out of reach. Tall skinny high school athlete was looking strong as he passed earlier in the previous mile and I wasn't sure I would be able to keep up. Because there were no visible runners in front of him, I was counting on this 8th place runner to lead the way. The course was marked with cones that were haphazardly placed on the grass with few volunteers around to direct us around all the twists and turns. Although he was doing great leading me through the unorthodox windy path, he was suddenly losing steam at around 5.5 miles. I debated about moving past him at this point. Part of me wanted to pass him and move on to my next target. A big part of me wanted to hang back, knowing I'd be up to my own resources to figure out where we were meant to go. Because I'd never before been asked to take the lead on a course with twists and turns that I wasn't familiar with, I didn't know what to do. Eventually though, after following his lead for another quarter mile, I took the lead from him and dared myself to find and catch the next runner out on the course.

Having taken the lead, it was up to me now to lead the way. Because I couldn't see anyone else in front and the course was not well marked except for a few volunteers who tried to deal with pedestrians while yelling directions to the runners at the same time, I was caught in no man's land as I tried to run fast while at the same time figure out what I could remember from the description of the course I had heard earlier at the start. At about 6.8 miles, we circle the Unisphere and come upon a road that gave the option of turning left onto a bigger park road or going straight onto the overpass toward Meadow Lake. I thought about going straight but remembered vaguely that mile 7 was not supposed to start until the overpass and felt it was a bit too soon. There was a biker standing off to the side who I thought was one of the earlier race pacers. I threw my hands up to ask if the course turned or went straight. He didn't respond, which for some reason I took to mean the first option was correct. So I turned and went about 0.1 mile before I saw two metal barricades blocking my way. I immediately stopped, cursed at the top of my lungs and turned to see four or five runners moving onward to the bridge from the road that I had just vacated. For a second, I panicked and just stood. I looked around for a race official, hoping against hope that maybe they saw what just transpired and could do something, anything. Finally, when I surrendered to the fact that no one saw except an 8 year old kid kicking a soccer bar with his dad, I squealed in frustration, turned around and ran back from where I came.

What “Running Means”Race Report from the Philly Half MarathonPart II – Race Day

It was a cool crisp 40 degrees when BS and I escaped the comfy confines of our hotel room and began the walk over to the race start. Although it was still completely dark at 6AM and I was still shivering a little when we began our walk, I could already tell we were going to have perfect running weather for this race. I had slept well, ate well, and hydrated a ton the night before. Dressed in my race-ready NY Flyers shirt and shorts underneath my running jacket and tights, I felt more ready than ever to have a strong race.

The spirited raspy voice of Bart Yasso over the loud speaker welcomed me to the pre-race staging area. Despite the chaos of runners, volunteers, and race officials scurrying in every direction around me, I was calm and relaxed walking around the starting area and finding my way around. At around 6:30 or so, I said goodbye to BS as we went to look for our respective UPS trucks to drop off our bags. It wasn’t until I had stripped off my layers down to my racing shirt and shorts that I realized that my baggage tag was missing from my bag! Since it was only attached via an adhesive (and not pinned – their idea, not mine), it must have fallen off during the transit from my hotel room to hear. I didn’t think it was such a big deal until the baggage volunteers insisted that they could not take my bag until it was tagged! I complained vehemently to a nearby race official who told me that my bag cannot be checked and that my only option was to go to the registration area all the way on the opposite side of the staging area to get a blank sticker. It was now 6:45. I started to panic. I made a feeble attempt to get over to the registration area, but gave up when I couldn’t find my way around the port-a-john lines that were blocking my way. I went back to my UPS truck and begged the volunteers to take my bag so I could run my race. They said no. Right there and then, I wanted to scream because I was pretty certain my race was over. It was now 6:50. Right at that moment, out of the corner of my ear, I hear my name being called. “L, can I help hold your bag?” It was BH, one of my Flyer friends from back home who had traveled down to watch the race and take pictures after running a 60K in Central Park the day before! It was surreal. I thanked him profusely, gave him my bag, and sprinted like hell to find the maroon corral and get into place. I reached the designated area just as the national anthem was finishing and they were about to send the lone wheelchair racer off onto the course. A slight delay gave me a couple of minutes to catch my breath and reflect on what had just happened. It the mad dash to get over to the starting line, I had forgotten to take my bandanna out of my bad. So it looks like I’d have to run this one with a naked head! I chuckled at my own joke as I heard the final race instructions being given one last time. I was just glad I made it over so I wouldn’t have to be stuck in the back of the crowd. A few minutes later, somewhat unannounced, the starting horn sounded, and we were off!

Running means fresh and new beginnings –
For every race, every day, and every life.
Mile 1 – 6:19; Mile 2 – 6:15

It was a crowded start right out of the gate. Although I was in the second corral right behind the elites and everyone around me was running strong and fast, it felt as if it still took me a good chunk of the first mile to settle into my pace. I didn’t mind though. Running through the streets of downtown Philadelphia with all its historical tall buildings next to enthusiastic crowds cheering us on was a true runner’s delight. I took my time and space and fought hard not to weave or squeeze by the congestion in the early going. There were a lot of speedy runners out on these narrow streets today and the last thing I wanted to do was cause an accident.

The sun was starting to rise off the horizon as we turned off Ben Franklin Pkwy onto Arch Street near the end of the first mile. Along the way, we passed by the Reading Terminal where I had lunch the day before and the Convention Center where the race expo was held. It was eerie to think that I was running here in Philadelphia when 24 hours ago I was still in bed in NYC! I had a mental flashback of the emotional rollercoaster I endured the previous day (and this morning) just to get to this point that I felt extremely lucky and privileged just to be able to run this race. Because of all that I went through, I really wanted to run well here, more as a confirmation to myself that I was meant to run this race than as an exhibition or testament for others.

Although the mile pace for the opening miles was a little more brisk than I’d imagined, I didn’t react and hold back, but allowed my body and legs to dictate the pace. After all, I had run the Staten Island Half a month ago for a big PR by adopting that same philosophy and since this course is supposedly faster than any of the ones back home, I figured my best chance of success is to stick to what works for me.

Running means finding the inner peace and confidence
To be your own animal and travel at your own pace
Mile 3 – 6:16; Mile 4 – 6:28

Mile 2 ends with a Gumby-like cartoon character standing on the corner slapping high-fives to all the runners as we made the turn onto Delaware Avenue which overlooks onto the Delaware River. I can’t remember what he was advertising but I remember feeling so pumped after verifying my fast pace in the early going with my Garmin that I gave him a harder slap than I intended to as I passed by, causing him to fall back a step or two. Woops! I’m sure I got quite a few quizzical looks from my neighbors after that exchange.

Mile 3 was a little windy and quiet and there wasn’t as much crowd support here as in the previous miles. I was dialed into my pace now and was slowly settling in with a pack of veteran runners who looked like they’ve done this before. It irked me that from the back, I couldn’t tell who were halfers and who were fullers. I wanted this information to gauge whether I should consider sticking with them for the long haul or whether I would be better off setting my own pace and running my own race. I struggled with this decision for almost the full mile.

As it turns out, it was a completely speculative debate because by the time I left Delaware Avenue on a mild accent up to South Street, it became evident that I would not be holding on to this ridiculously brisk pace. I tempered my own expectations and drifted back as I allowed the pack to surge on ahead. I perused the window decorations on the surrounding small town shops to recalibrate my system and return to a state of relaxed running where I had been before I got myself tangled up with the elite pack from mile 3. I was slightly disappointed at my significantly slower mile time for mile 4, but figured that this was about the pace I expected myself to keep right from the outset, so in essence, I was back on track!

Running means love, community and support –
Even when you don’t think you are so deserving.
Mile 5 – 6:29; Mile 6 – 6:29

I settled into a groove at miles 5 and 6. Running through South Street and then Chestnut with crowds bursting out of shops, coffee houses and stores was simply exhilarating! I heard my name called out several times as I ran through here and it made me completely smile every time. I had to fight back the urge to turn back and acknowledge the crowd even as I knew I would have no way of identifying who was shouting what.

We also passed by Independence Hall and a group of guys dressed up as Patriots standing on the side. Some were handing out water, some were singing songs. All were cheering and clapping for each runner as we passed by. From my vantage point, it made me feel somewhat patriotic just to be running this race.

Running means challenging yourself
To be better than you think you can be.
Mile 7 – 6:30; Mile 8 – 6:43; Mile 9 – 6:32

These middle miles were the toughest miles for me today for several reasons. For starters, there were hills and steep climbs in each of these miles that I was not expecting. For the most part, I tackled each one the best that I could, by keeping my strides short, increasing my turnover and powering through with a consistent effort. This was a good strategy for me as I would pass by many runners on all my uphill climbs. The problem was that once I crested the hills, it took quite a while for my heart rate to recover and settle down. As a result, my pace and heart rate drifted erratically during this stretch and I really had to fight some demons here to prevent a midway meltdown.

Incidentally, this was also the part of the course with the least number of spectators. Emerging from the boisterous crowds in downtown Philly, I was surprised to find so many dead areas in these miles. I remember seeing lots of lawns and trees on my way through and wishing that I could just lie down there with a bottle of sunscreen!

Finally, the middle miles was demoralizing on me because I was fighting my pace the whole way. For some reason, I had it in my mind that I should be running faster than 6:30 miles so to see my pace hovering at 6:29-6:30 was a frustrating and disconcerting. At times, I experimented by throwing a few speed surges but still found that I was married to a 6:30 paces at the end of them. It was a bit depressing. I can’t even explain why I felt so bad about it, since prior to a month ago, 6:30 was my half marathon PR pace, but to be doing it here, in this race, so consistently mile-after-mile after starting out at a blistering fast pace just felt like a copout to me.

Running means living a passionate life
And inspiring others to do the same.
Mile 10 – 6:36; Mile 11 – 6:31

The final and the toughest hill climb came at the end of mile 10 next to Memorial Hall in Fairmont Park. This was a nasty ascent not only because it was long and steep, but also because you could see the entire length of the uphill trail all the way from the bottom as it winds itself up through the grassy field onto the overpass ahead. Although I had advanced notice of this section of the course from friends who’ve run here before, I still felt very intimidated by this hill when I happened upon it toward the latter stages of mile 10. I saw a couple of demoralized runners walking off to the side as I approached the ascent gingerly and relaxed my pace. I ran methodically with short quick strides and followed the procession up the hill. At the crest, I had to stop for a few seconds to settle my breathing and drink my water at the fluid station before continuing on.

After vanquishing the hill and crossing the 10 mile mark, I knew all that stood between me and the finish was a short 5K. Although I wanted to begin gradually increasing my speed, I didn’t know how much I had left at the tank after the brutal climb a half mile before. So I bid my time and waited until my breathing was less labored before considering a push towards the finish. We were at a short out-and-back now and I could see a few friends and Flyers coming up from behind me about a half-mile to a mile away. I gave each a wave and a cheer of encouragement. Just about everyone I saw looked like they were running really fast and heading for big PRs in their race. This was very inspiring to see. At the end of this mile, we left the out and back and I knew it was time for me to get down to business.

Running means breaking down limits and barriers
And discovering a better me
Mile 12 – 6:21; Mile 13 – 5:58; Last 0.1 – 0:42

My mile 11 time was both comforting and frustrating to me at the same time. On the one hand, I was glad to see that I recovered from the monstrous climb at mile 10 to reclaim my previous running pace. However, this pace was again 6:31. At this point, I had an internal debate with myself regarding how I should handle the last two miles of this half marathon. The safe, conservative approach would be to maintain 6:30-6:32 pace and come in at a respectable 1:25 or so. This result wouldn’t stand out but be commendable and respectable to everyone. Or, I could push the envelope, go for broke, and maybe secure a new PR. In the few seconds it took me to deliberate these possibilities, I thought about the events of yesterday and this morning. I thought about how close I was to not even running this race. I thought about all my half marathons of this past year and how I wanted this last one to be something special, to stand out. Once I realized what I must do, I started picking up my pace slowly and steadily. One by one, I began passing runners. This gave me fuel and energy to run even faster. At the one mile mark, I checked my pace and realized that I was now running 6:20 and right on par for a PR. I close my eyes and continue to push the pace. I’m now passing people in droves. They are all looking at me wondering how it could be that I’m running so fast. I don’t ask, I don’t try. In my mind, I’m running mile intervals around the Central Park reservoir by myself. When I’m a half-mile away from the finish, I crank it up another notch and begin my push to the finish line. I’m counting steps and watching the clock at the same time. At last, I see the sign for the finish and start my final kick. Upon seeing 1:24:XX as I crossed the finish line, I knew I had done it. Another half-marathon complete, another PR!

Final Time – 1:24:14 (PR by 0:11)

Final Thoughts

I know it wasn’t a big PR, but I’m really proud of how I ran this race. I allowed my legs to set the pace in the early miles, kept and maintained an even effort on the middle miles and fought complacency, inattentiveness and fatigue to run my fastest mile in the last mile of the race en-route to a half-marathon PR in the final race of the 13.1 mile distance this calendar year. It is shocking to realize that in just one short year, I have set 3 PRs and improved by more than a minute in the half-marathon. I’m excited to experience all of this again as I begin the chase to 1:23 next year!

What “Running Means”Race Report from the Philly Half MarathonPart I – The Day Before The Race

The theme from this year’s Philadelphia Marathon/Half Marathon running series was “Running Means…” which was a peculiar question to ask, I thought, because if anyone really wanted to know, they could’ve just consulted Webster’s, Oxford, Google, Wikipedia, or any of an assortment of on-line and off-line resources to find the answer. (BTW, if you had to look it up, all it really means is to put one foot in front of the other in some sort of coordinated fashion that is faster than walking!) Haha!

All kidding aside, one of the main reasons I wanted to run this race was to define running for myself. What does it mean to me? What does it mean to others? Is this something I do, or is this something I am? I not only wanted to know the answer to this riddle, I wanted to experience it firsthand. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own feet, and hear it with my own ears, so that if a non-runner asks, I can accurately describe what running personally means to me.

Arrival in Philly, The Expo, Pasta Dinner, and The Night Before

The Saturday bus trip to Philly from NYC was pleasant and uneventful as we entertained ourselves with stories, gossips, and of course, facebook updates and race day forecasts every 5 minutes. I was traveling down with Flyers JT, JB, and BS and each of us had our own expectations and reservations about the race. JT and JB were running their goal marathon while JS and I were just running the half as an excuse to bask in the race atmosphere and cheer on friends. We made a pact that we’d keep ourselves to half the food and half the drinks this weekend because unlike everyone else, “we weren’t the real runners; we’re just running the half!” That would become our rallying cry for the rest of the trip.

We arrived at Philly in the early afternoon after a faster-than-average two hour ride. Although the bus trip was short, it was still over our lunch hour, so we were starving for some food by the time we got into town. Since none of us were too familiar with Philly, there was a lot of humming and hawing about where exactly we should eat. During this little confusion over which location seemed most appropriate for a pre-marathon lunchtime meal, I excused myself to use the restroom in the visitor’s center across the street. When I got back, they were still at the same point in the discussion as when I had left! This prompted the funniest comment of the weekend from BS who said “Yeah, in case you all didn’t know, he pees at a 6 minute pace too!” Absolutely hilarious! After some iPhone consulting and JT suddenly remembering that she went to UPenn and things don’t change that much in six or seven years, we headed over to the Reading Terminal which was situated right next to the convention center where the race expo was. This was the perfect choice because we all wanted to save our legs as much as possible for race day.

Although the servicing was a bit more delayed than we were used to back home, we got a table quickly, ordered, relaxed, and chowed down our meals (when it finally came) at race pace. I had my first Philly Cheese Steak in well over a year and savored every bite. The others were a little suspicious of my meal choice until I reminded them again that “I was just running a half!” the next day, so no double-decker club sandwiches for me!

After we ate, we went to the race expo to pick up numbers and bibs. Upon reaching the race area, I felt so excited just to be in the vicinity of marathoners and running gear that I literally jumped and knocked my head on top of one of the fixtures. Ouch! Now, it was time for me to remind myself not to get overly excited myself because again, “I’m just running the half!” We all splitted up at this point to get our own numbers and race gear. I felt all sorts of weird looking around for the “kid’s table” to grab my bib. I half-heartedly expected some race official to jump out in the middle of my search and say “Excuse me, Sir, we couldn’t help but noticed your application for the half and given your times and veteran marathoner’s status, thought you were probably better suited to run the full, so we made the switch on your behalf. There’s a marathon race bib with your name on it waiting for you on the opposite side.” But no that didn’t happen. Instead, I walked over, picked up my half-marathon bib, asked the overly enthusiastically lady working the gear area whether it was too late to ask about the full marathon option (she said there wasn’t such a thing) and I left it at that. The only solace I got was that the gear bag and race shirt both looked pretty sweet and definitely useable for future races. What was even nicer was the pair of technical running gloves I found later hidden within the gear bag. Sweet! I’d never gotten running gloves as a souvenir from a race before so finding those instantly lifted my spirits about the race.

After checking out the rest of the race expo, saying hi to Bart Yasso for about the fifth time this year and successfully pulling myself away from signing up for five spring marathons that all seemed so enticing from the race ads, I left the convention center with BS to find our hotel where we’d be staying that night. We were staying within walking distance of both the expo and the start so it didn’t take too long for us to find the place. Once we did, we quickly checked in, unpacked, changed, showered, and laid out all our race gear for the next day. We chilled a little bit in the room and before we knew it, it was already time to head out to meet the rest of the Flyer crew for the obligatory pre-marathon pasta dinner.

There were roughly about 15 Flyers who showed up for dinner that night at a homely family-style Italian restaurant that rivaled Sambuca or Tony’s DiNapoli in NYC. DK, our master dinner planner extraordinaire, had picked the setting and called ahead for reservations so we got seated almost as soon as we got in. By the time BS and I arrived at the festivities, JT was already seated at a table with a bunch of her relatives, so was runner26 with her husband and parents seeming as nervous as I’d ever seen her. BS show to sit with a bunch of other Flyer contingent at the far end of a long table while I chose to sit at a new one with DK and JB who had shown up just as we were able to order and eat. Because we were all split up into different tables, we ordered individually according to table size. Being I was in the smallest table and running the shortest distance (both DK and JB were running the full despite having done NYCM 3 weeks ago just like me), I really didn’t eat all that much since I was sticking to my guns that halfers should only carb up half as much as fullers! (I had to look over to my half partner BS to make sure we weren’t cheating!) But what I did eat was pretty delicious and actually quite filling so I had no complaints.

After dinner, we all gathered for some quick pictures before scattering off to our individual hotels to prepare for an early wakeup call the next day. Before I left, I was able to catch up a bit with runner26 who told me about her pre-race anxiety and nervousness and phantom ankle pains she was having all week. I responded by telling her to use her past marathon experiences to channel her nervous energies to running a good race. I also told her that I never believe in phantom pains that crop up only on race week. From what I know about the way the body works, phantom pains is just a misrepresentation of recovery mechanisms that the body isn’t used to and don’t know how to interpret. They will invariably disappear once the race starts. I don’t know if she quite believed me but I was pretty confident that my diagnosis was accurate and my impromptu treatment plan would work wonders for her race. As we parted, I wished her good luck, even as I knew she only had to trust herself to run a great race. (As an aside, she took my advice and ran an amazing PR sub-4 race the next day! Big ups to runner26!)

As for me, I trampled back to my hotel room, checked and double checked all that I would need for the next day and went to sleep. As I laid quietly in bed, I thought a lot about all my Flyer friends who rocked their 60Ks in Central Park earlier in the day and those that were about to run the full marathon in the morning. I wrestled with my own feelings of inadequacy even as I know I am in no way prepared to race a full marathon even if permitted to so soon after NYCM. Yet, I also knew I had to ultimately forgive myself and focus on my own race if I was going to have any chance of success the next day. This proved to be a harder task than I imagined as I fell asleep subconsciously still scheming of possible ways to escape my fate of “only” running the half-marathon on race morning. Little did I know something unexpected would happen just prior to the race start that would make me ever so thankful just to be able to compete in the half marathon distance.