Saturday, May 19, 2012

Race Report: The first 5.38 miles of the Brooklyn Half

Today I experienced the firsts for two things: 1) The first time I didn't complete a race and 2) The first time I got called a "fucker" by another runner.

I decided yesterday that I was going to run the Brooklyn Half Marathon after a bunch of deliberation and good ol' fashioned ribbing by my dog park friend and fellow runner, Jon. He didn't believe me when I told him that my knee hurt. It really did hurt, but yesterday it miraculously felt better. I even walked from my office at 48th street to New York Road Runners at 89th street to pick up my race bib and shirt after work, in heels (not recommended), and my knee felt fine.

But I wasn't in the best shape to spontaneously join a half marathon. I haven't run much since my race in Cape Town, and earlier this week I felt like I was getting sick and even left work early one day. Then my knee started to be uncooperative, and that's when I ate beer and chocolate for dinner.

My sweet Aunt sent me this t-shirt in a care-package 
(congratulations for running the ultra)

But I felt decent when my alarm went off at 5 am this morning. I walked to Prospect Park and saw lots of other Brooklyn runners out on the sidewalks, heading to the start line.

On a side note, I heard an awful conversation on my way to the park. One woman said to another, "My housekeeper asked for a raise. She said, 'I've been working for you for a few years now and I want a pay increase.'" (The women laughed.) Then the other woman said, "She isn't even a good housekeeper, is she? I mean, my housekeeper worked when she was pregnant and even brings her daughter with her to work to help out." I didn't stab either one of them, but I did think to myself, New York I love you, but you're really bringing me down.

And I haven't even gotten to the part where I got called a "fucker."

I got bumped up a corral because of my 7:49 pace in the last race I did. The start to the Brooklyn Half is now near the museum. It used to start inside Prospect Park and circle the park twice before heading to Coney Island, but now it starts outside the park and does a couple of out and backs around Washington and Flatbush Avenues. Then it enters the park for a loop and then it heads to Coney Island. This new route allowed NYRR to open up the field of entries from 5,000 to 15,000. There were a lot of runners out there today. The first couple of miles had a lot of downhill. It was sort of unbelievable; I felt like I was roller skating. I was doing a sub 8 minute mile.

A strange older man ran by me a couple of times and tried to be chatty. Both times he started conversation by saying, "Is the finish line coming up soon?" And both times I said, "Yup, it's just around the corner." The second time he came up to me he said, "My lieutenant back there had to stop." (Where are we? Vietnam?) "She seems to have hurt her leg and she had to stop. She always seems scared whenever she sees me. I don't know why! But she is a good girl." On this last note he pulled ahead and I called out after him, "Woman! She is a good woman!" But if he heard me he didn't react.

At some point before entering the park a woman who appeared to be in mid conversation with someone slowed down abruptly to cross the road in front of all the runners to get to a water station. It's okay, it happens. But I was right behind her and my foot brushed her leg and could have tripped her and I kind of stopped to avoid a head-on collision and said, "Oh sorry!" And she scowled and said, "Fucker".

When we entered the park I started to feel really hot and sluggish. At the top of the hill inside the park I made a sharp right and headed home. I had mixed feelings about my decision, but now I'm grateful that I didn't run all the way to Coney Island. I really just wanted to come home and nap with my animals. It's Saturday and I don't feel like being around New Yorkers.


So I can only really report on the first 5 1/2 miles of the race, which I did in 46 minutes. Seemed organized and not too crowded in my section. At some point I'm sure some folks, many of whom have questionable politics, crossed the finish line at Coney Island, filled up on hot dogs and beer before noon, and returned to their sanitized homes sunburned and proud of themselves.

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