It started early - around 5 am. I slept off and on last night, going over today's race in my head. I knew there was a time limit on the race and I was unsure that I would be able to meet it. I also knew there was a heat advisory for the race. Both items caused me a bit of anxiety, but obviously not enough to bail on the race. Sure I haven't been jogging enough lately, but I have been butt-camping. I was hoping that would be enough to tide me over. I should mention here that hope can only go so far sometimes.
Anyhow, I got up and had a bite, got dressed, and then Steve and I met Sam at the elevator around 6 am. We hailed a cab and took off for Central Park, the start of the race. For the next hour, I found my corral and looked around at my fellow race participants, wondering which ones would be bringing up the rear with me. Needless to say, once we crossed the start line, I never saw them again after seeing their rear ends flying off in the distance.
So I begin my jaunt around Central Park. I believe the temperature was well into the mid-eighties by this point. At the first water stop, there were two lone volunteers trying to pour water and Gatorade for over 12,000 sweaty athletes. And me. When I arrived, we were just grabbing cups and dipping them into the lined trash cans filled with water. Did I mention it was hot?
Anyhoo, we keep our pace, whatever that was at that second (running, jogging, walking, crawling) around Central Park and all its rolling hills. There were non-race joggers and dogs and baby buggies also using the roads or paths or whatever, so it was fun.
I was at my usual back of the pack position. I had on my fancy race watch that will time each mile if I hit the right button. I pass Mile 5, hit the button, and head for Mile 6. After about 25 minutes, I think I must be in reverse warp speed, because I still haven't come to Mile 6. Apparently Mile 5 would be the last marker I would see, because the race crew was just ahead, taking up all the mile markers, because we were to slow to get there. Whatever. As long as there was somebody ahead of me to follow (and there always is), I knew where to go. Just didn't know how far I'd been.
After the first mile or two in the park, I seriously begin to question the intelligence of my deciding to proceed with this race. It was hot, and there were hills, and I was getting slower. I had decided that if I did a mile at a 20-minute pace, that would be a sign to quit and return to the hotel. Then came Mile 5 and my 25-minute pace. Which turned into several hours, since there was no other marker until the finish. In 24 half-marathons, I had never quit a race in the middle. I've bailed on several before they ever started, but I had never quit in the middle. But I had made up my mind that when we finally got out of Central Park, I was going to hail a cab and go back to the hotel. I figured it would be a great blog post - "How I Quit A Race and Saved My Life."
So, at Mile Who-Knows, these two backpack-carrying dudes come up behind me proclaiming that they are the "sweepers" and we need to stay ahead of them because they are at the allowed pace limit for the race. I stayed ahead up until we exited the park when they kept yapping and passed me by. I turned to the total stranger who was beside me and said, "I believe I've had it."
Total stranger turns out to be an angel in disguise named Sara. She turned to me and said, "We can do this. We'll do it together." We chatted a bit, and I found out she had just moved to the city from England, and was planning to walk the rest of the race. We walked some more miles (I would tell you how many if there had been mile markers) until I got a surge of energy and picked up my pace. I know, I'm a loser for leaving her, but I had to strike while the iron was hot. In other words, I had to move when I was able.
Anyhow, I kept going, taking water at every stop and basically dowsing my body. At some point we were told to get on the sidewalk, and we complied until we saw them begin to take down the last water stop, when we skedaddled back onto the road to get the last bit of water before the finish. I grabbed a cup of ice to keep me going, which came in handy when I grabbed a few bottles of water left by total strangers along the route.
Finally, I could see the finish line and headed in that direction. Just like the winner, my name was announced as I crossed the finish line (the announcer was obviously bored after watching the last of us limp in). I proceed through the finish area, taking the pretzels, water, and whatever else they gave us. I asked the water lady where the medals were. She told me to keep going. I did, only to find out that THEY RAN OUT OF MEDALS!! After chatting with other delirious finishers, I found out that we could email NYRR and hopefully get our bling.
My choices at this point were to hail a cab or catch the subway. Deciding that the cab was a better choice than trying to remember which subway to take, I managed to get one. When I got in, I told Cab Man that I wanted to go to 57th and Lexington. He then proceeded to speak to me in ESL English. With my diminishing Southern old-lady hearing loss, I understood nothing of what he said. So I just said, "However you need to get there. Just go the fastest way." His hearing is equally impaired to Southern old ladyspeak, so I think he thought I meant go the scenic route. At some point he said something 40-something exit or street. He looked like he needed encouragement, so I said, "Okay." He seemed happy, and eventually (after touring the United Nations, the Statue of Liberty, and the Pentagon), we had me on the corner across from the hotel. I handed him the soggy dollar bills I had kept on my person for the last several hours and we said our goodbyes.
I joined the rest of the family in the hotel. Those who were able went to procure lunch which we ate in the hotel room. We checked out of the hotel to catch a cab back to the airport. We found a cabbie who agreed to take all five of us in one cab, which is apparently against NYC cabbie rules. Steve sat in the front, while the back seat held me/lynnette/sam/molly. Did I mention this was a small-ish car? We managed to squeeze in by basically spooning each other. Being next to the door, I was a bit concerned about flying out the door, especially if I grabbed the door handle for support as our cabbie was zipping around in traffic. At some point during the ride, we had to shift to spoon in the other direction, which was successful until my old-lady hip began to spasm. We finally made it to the airport, boarded the plane, and flew home.
It was a great weekend in New York City. We ate some good food, shopped and bought some cool stuff, enjoyed seeing some of the city's landmarks, and enjoyed the goings-on of a fun city. But what made it best was that we did it together, spooning and all.
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