Today, I ran the Long Island Half Marathon during the Long Island Festival of Races, and I ran well! I am actually so excited about how reassured I am about my level of fitness that I wasn't quite sure was there since I have been doing less workouts, taking more days off, and ripping my muscles apart with Graston.
My plan for the 1/2 was to run it to test the waters, no pressure, just feel out a good distance run. On Thursday, after doing a mini uptempo (2 miles in 12:45) and feeling pretty crappy during it, I was a little nervous that I wasn't really in shape to perform solidly.
Later, this Friday, I went to the Expo to pick up my number and saw the great Long Island Road Race announcer Terry Bisgno, who told me to check the newspaper for my name since he stated in an interview that I was one of the race favorites, with my 1:24:44 from the Diva. I was a little excited and a little bummed: excited that I have been recognized, bummed that I realistically know I am not in 1:24 shape to reaffirm that acknowledgement. But after he told me about the other possible top female harriers, I knew that even on a sub-par day, I might be able to finish toward the front of the pack. Last year, my first half, I went in without any expectations or competitive push and finished ninth overall. This year was bound to be better.
And better it was!
The Trek
First, Rob and I got up at 5:15 and headed out by 5:45 (yes, a.m.). (No matter how many times I do these crazy races, as I set my alarm the night before, I always question my sanity.) We hit no traffic (you never know on Long Island) and parked in our special Hempstead Turnpike parking lot. I headed for a bathroom and then for the starting line. After a slight detour in the park, and a small, almost meltdown on my husband for going the wrong direction (slowly), we made it to the starting line by 7:10, where I even had a chance to take one last pee break without a line at the port-a-potty. (About 10 minutes later, the lines were out of control. We even saw a line of men facing tall grass along the public road to relieve themselves. Wonder if Newsday will put that picture online.)
The Warmup
At 7:15, I started my warmup, heading on the course for about 5 minutes with the plan to loop back for an overall 10-minute warmup before some stretches and drills (since I already walked probably over a mile from our car/park detour). On the start of my run, I passed Terry, who shouted, "Good luck, Christa" to me. Other people I passed laughed, making the annoying comment, "Why would you run before the run?" One boy jumped in front of me obnoxiously shouting, "Yeahhhhh running!!!!!!!!!" Nevertheless, I completed my warmup unscathed and went back for some drills where my husband was stationed. Then, I headed for the start, where this year, I learned to creep up much closer than my 14-second net/gun discrepancy last year.
The Start and Mile 1
After some strides, the national anthem, and some fireworks, we were off. Honestly, the only thought in my head for mile 1 is, "Keep calm, keep it slow, easy does it, slow, slow." I figured I would probably hit mile 1 in about 6:30, but again, my "slow" idea turned to be a 6:15. I shrugged, oh well, I felt good.
Mile 2, 3, 4, 5
Around mile 2.5, a tiny girl (who I later learned is 27) ran up next to me and we ran side-by-side until about mile 5, where she pulled away, and unfortunately beat me overall. (5K split: 19:45 ish) From mile 2-5, we had to battle some 10K runners who were already walking by their first mile (the 1/2 marathon starts behind the 10K, so the fast marathoners catch up to the slow 10k'ers pretty quickly). I also somehow managed to throw almost an entire cup of Gatorade in a high school volunteer's face. At the mile 5 water stop, a girl handed me a cup of Gatorade. A few of the other kids were not paying attention, and as I finished my sip (I only take sips) and chucked the rest, one of the kids who was not paying attention stepped right into it and started screaming. How many times can you say you threw a cup of anything in someone's face and could actually get away with it!
Mile 6, 7, 8
At the 10K, I hit 40something, which was better than my 42 last year, and kept trucking down Route 25. By mile 8, I had a nice boost after passing the MacArthur (my old team) water stop and hearing them scream Imperiale pretty loudly. It was nice to hear the surge of excitement and know I have not been forgotten.
Mile 9, 10, 11, 12
At mile 11, Erin Grey jumped in with me to keep my pace on point, which was great because this mile is usually my slowest, and instead, it ended up being consistent with most of my miles. At one point, I saw a cup of water and veered toward it; Erin questioned if I wanted water or wanted to catch the girl (Bellmore Strider Noni) in front of me. I chose water, a decision I regret a little since I lost to her only by one second. Back on course, Erin stayed with me to a little after mile 12, where the East Meadow team was pretty excited to see a Citius jersey, since they had recently had a presentation with Vince and ReddyCare.
Home Stretch
As I made the final turn toward the 1/2 mile final stretch, I heard Smitty's mom, Cathy, cheering that I could get the girl in front of me (Noni, still). I remember that I normally tell Smitty that sometimes people appear much farther from you in a race when you are actually in the race and seeing only the "behind" perspective. I also tell Smitty, that's what a coach is for, to remind you that your perspective is a little off and that the distance isn't actually as far as you think. At that point, I dedicated myself to catching Noni. I passed the mile 13 mark and refused to hit my split button on my watch, knowing I would need every precious tenth of a second at the very end. I was running out of space, but I heard Tom, Pita, and my husband cheer, and that was it, my final move. I drove my knees and felt my powerful sprinter stride. The 800-meter runner in me was back.
Finish Line
I made up the deficit pretty fast, but Terry, the announcer, pointed out (VERY LOUDLY) to the crowd that there was a fight for third. Noni took this as a warning and picked up the last few steps, and I ran out of room to catch her. Her back foot passed the line as my front foot crossed it. GRRR. Shouldn't have taken that water! haha. On an unsportsmanship-like note, Noni didn't even turn around to say good job, a common gesture by the top (or any) runners. I really don't like the rudeness of the Bellmore Striders (and no, the fact that I didn't beat her doesn't sway that idea). Not one of the female striders have ever participated in the common procedure of athletic sportsmanship with me. (My favorite was the girl, Tara, who I beat at Bethpage in the final stretch, right the finish line. All she could say was, F********CK, pretty loudly. Classy.)
Cool Down
After rounding up my cheering squad and locating Erin, a Post XC alumni who completed her first 1/2 ever in 1:41, I (Erin, too) cooled down for a bit. Then, I washed off all of the salt off my face and was so excited to find crackers and peanut butter in my finisher's sack, handed out at the finish line. My next task at hand was to see my friend, Jenn, finish her first marathon.
The Marathon
For the next few hours, we stood watching the rest of the half marathoners and the marathoners finish, waiting for Jenn, who was estimated to finish around 5 hours. Her husband found us, and we all laughed and joked for a while, commenting on how Jenn has only been running for two years (starting with running less than three miles a week to running 26.2 in one day) and how she views life (her life motto is from the country song "Live Like You Were Dying"). Some of the people I was with were getting a little antsy waiting, but I was not going to budge until I saw my friend proudly complete her task at hand. When the clock hit 5 hours, we allowed some extra leeway in case she started minutes behind the actual start (net vs. gun time). When the clock started ticking a bit more, we got a little nervous. After a little while, Gary, her husband, walked back down the final stretch a bit, hoping to see her and run a little in with her. He came back to us with clear worry on his face. I decided to jog the course backwards to see if I could find her, in case something was wrong, since I was the fastest-moving option. A little less than a mile into my backwards trek, there were Jenn AND Gary (he took a shortcut). Relieved, Gary returned to the final stretch, and I ran along next to her, while she assured me she was okay and was talking fine, just a little dazed (and how could you not expect that, after FIVE hours of running). When we got to 26, I was so proud of her and made sure to point out the finish line flags so she could see her finish, and at 26.1, I sent her on her last .1 journey down the final stretch alone to her victory.
Runner?
I guess this experience of the half and full marathon leads me back to my previous debate about the definition of a runner. Like I said before, I am such a hypocrite with this topic and switch sides often, depending on circumstances and friendships. Take Jenn, for instance. Most people will question why in God's name she would want to run for five hours, painfully plodding her way through the 26.2 miles. But since I have heard about her plans, her goals, her work, her 20-mile Sunday runs, her rolling at night, her pace chart, her carboloading, I can't help but consider her a runner.
And after my experience today, I think I have solidified my parameters of "runner." I think if you do all the things you should as a runner: warm up, drink water, train on a somewhat daily basis, thoughtfully consider your race (pre and post), get good sleep, live a runner lifestyle, you are a runner. If you do not do these things and just run random 5k's or, worse, 1/2's, you are not a runner. If you laugh at a person warming up (aka a REAL runner) and ask why she is running more before she has to already run, you are not a runner. If you drink beer before you run, you are not a runner. If you smoke a cigarette before the race (which people witnessed today), you are not a runner. If you carry hand sanitizer for the port-a-potty's that you will stop in on your run, you are not a runner. (I have yet to decide officially if I think iPod wearers are runners. I am currently leaning to "no.") If you think the people who are doing runner-like things (aka warmup, drills, stretches, strides) are "weird" or insane, you are not a runner.
Let us be, especially when you are butting into OUR world. But no matter what, I think if you bust your butt and do all the things magazines like Runners' World tell you to do, well, then by all means, no matter how slow you are, you have earned the Christa Morris seal of approval. You, then, are warmly welcomed into MY world.
Results: 1:27:01, 4th Woman Overall
(Pictures and Splits to come.....)
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