Thanksgiving Weekend Wrap-Up

First of all, thanks everyone for all the Philly race report compliments! I apologize for long delay in getting it done. It’s funny how I always end up having too much to say about my races and not enough time to write it all down. I sometimes wonder whether my photographic race memory and novel-ish writing style are blessings or really curses in disguise! Haha! I am only kidding of course because I doubt I’d have it any other way.

Speaking of blessings, I hope everyone had a wonderful time giving thanks and spending quality time with family and friends during the holiday weekend. I myself had a great time hanging out with the family, getting my butt handed to me in ping pong and Guitar Hero, and eating way too much food for way too many days. I also managed to run a tougher-than-expected 20 miler over the weekend on a hilly trail that left me hanging on for dear life at the end of it. My pace was relatively slow (7:30-ish), it was windy and cold, and I was cramping in places that hadn’t been heard from since before NYCM. Ugh! I wonder if it’s a sign of lost fitness or the extra serving or two (or three) of turkey, chocolate cheesecake and sweet potato pie I helped myself to over the preceding three days. Hmmm…

But the highlight of my long weekend was definitely the Garden City Turkey Trot 5 miler I did on Thanksgiving morning. It was a great race not only because I ran well, finishing in 30:17 with a 6:03 avg pace, which is a course PR for me and a 29 second improvement from last year, but it was also the first race ever for my little bro! Before the race, I was so nervous for him (the only 5-miler he’s ever done before was on a treadmill a week before this race!) that I offered to run him in for the last 1.5 miles after I finished if he needed it. It turned out he didn’t need my help at all as he ran pretty conservatively for the first four miles and surged ahead of a lot of people in the last mile! I credit myself for prepping him well. Haha! He finished in the vicinity of 46 minutes and had so much fun that he’s now asking me to enter him in a few more races in the next several months. Will do, little bro, will do!

I’m not going to write a whole long report on my race because it wasn’t a big deal race for me (and I don’t want to overwhelm you all!) but I will share five bullet points from my race experience that I found somewhat interesting:

1. Mile-by-mile splits: M1-5:57, M2-5:55, M3-6:12, M4-6:18, M5-5:51. Wow, look how I died in miles 3 & 4 and yet recovered to run my fastest in M5!
2. If you took the time to add up the splits, you’ll get 30:14, not the 30:17 I was credited with. That’s because this turned out to be a gun-time and not a chip-time race. According to my Garmin time, I came in just one second over my overall 5-mile PR time. So I’ve been wondering, if I happened to have run 2 seconds faster and squeaked in a PR by a second according to my Garmin time (but not gun time), does that still count as a PR for me?
3. Last year, I finished in 30:46 and was 9th out of 268 males in the 30-39 age group. This year, I finished in 30:17 and was 5th out of 334 males in the 30-39 age group. It’s too bad that age group awards go to the top 3, and the 3rd place guy ran 27:47. In other words, I have no shot!
4. I ran this race 4 days after a fast Philly half marathon and did considerably better than I expected. If it was a week later and I had a chance to rest, could I have run an even better time or would I have slowed because of some lost fitness and/or speed? I never felt terribly tired or fatigued during the race so I wonder if it would have even made a difference.
5. Turkey trots should be mandatory as an appetizer to the Thanksgiving feast! 'Nuff said.
   

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.