It's 10:15 a.m. I'm back home and I friggin' demolished that race. Having been off my feet since Sunday's nightmare-cum-triumph, my body clearly wanted to get out there and hit the road. I met up with TnT this morning at 7:30 following an epic cab ride uptown chauffeured by a Bengali former soccer player who sent me off to the starting line with encouragement. Thanks, man.
Having been off a race course since last spring's Revlon Entertainment Industry Fund Walk/Run 5K (and I'm totally not kidding), I was admittedly a little antsy about race day protocol and getting everything in order. A few thousand people were out there in the freezing cold (literally) and the chaos at the baggage check area was more fun than nerve-wracking. Unable to spot co-worker Lindsay or this blog's very own Celeste, I made my way to the TnT hang-out spot where I ran into Janneke, one of the girls who usually keeps pace for me. Relieved to have someone there for speed consistency, I listened to Coach Christine's pep talk and got some pre-race advice from Coach Steve who changed everything today. In the cab I planned a scheme where I'd start out around a 7:30 pace for the first mile, ease towards a 7:00 pace around the third mile, get through Central Park's notorious "Cat Hill," and finally go balls-deep for the final mile. He told me to throw all of that out the window.
When I told Steve the game plan, he furrowed his brow and said something to the effect of, "Come on, you can do better than that." He suggested going out at a 7:10 and building to a sub-7:00 after the first mile. I doubted my ability to pull this one off, but his belief in my pacing encouraged me to give the race a harder try than I had planned. Janneke, Carey (the other girl I usually run with), and I began together at the starting line following a less-than-spectacular rendition of the national anthem. In the second corral behind the 6-minute milers, we hit the road at a comfortable pace. What I didn't know was how congested the course would be the beginning. I lost both of them about a quarter-mile in and went off on my own. At the first mile marker, I saw that I had met Steve's goal for me of a 7:10 first mile and started amping up the energy.
By the second and third mile markers, I was feeling good and saw on the race clocks that I was actually racing sub-7:00 miles. That realization gave me an absurd burst of adrenaline and I knew that given the short race course, I could really use it to kick the final mile's ass. Dressed a little too warmly, I started pulling down on my Under Armor a little bit before Cat Hill, slowed down a bit, and then shot up at the end where I was really excited to see all of our coaches screaming and cheering. I threw all of my shit into the final half mile and, breathing heavily, sailed through the finish line and saw the clock: 33:40. Give or take a 10-15 second delay at the starting line, that's an average 6:42 mile.
UPDATE: Final time was 33:23 / average pace: 6:40.
FUCK. YES. Tell that to the fatty in high school.
I was ecstatic and went to retrieve my bag with a huge, goofy grin plastered on my face, feeling nearly invincible. When I spotted my pack, I overheard a bunch of runners talking about the race. Said one speed demon to another, "Yeah, it was alright. You know, a solid 28 minutes. Felt okay." Said the other to the first, "It's all good, man."
Um...I suppose there's always room for improvement?
Unbelievable!!!!!
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