Racing the Brooklyn Half was a last-minute decision. It was supposed to be a training run for the now-canceled Liberty Run Marathon. After deciding that racing a marathon just wasn’t going to happen, I turned my focus to Brooklyn. The good news: I was trained and ready to race.
Luckily, Laura was running already and offered to pace me!
I was ready. I was set to push to my limits. I truly felt fearless.
I wanted a huge PR. I actually felt like I deserved it.
I did PR. But barely. And it hurt bad. The NYC Half was a perfect race for me. I pushed the pace and maintained that pace that I previously thought was impossible. I went into Brooklyn thinking I would execute it flawlessly. I forgot that MOST races are not perfect, or even near perfect.
Race plan: Miles 1-5: 7:45, Miles 6-10: 7:30, Miles 11-end: fast as I can go. I hoped to go 1:40 or even under.
Until Mile 10, my plan was being executed (almost) perfectly. Then I started getting awful stomach cramps that actually made me panic there was no bathroom close by. I sprinted till I could see one. Then I almost fell in and cried because I was in a lot of pain and I knew I wouldn’t be able to make up the time.
The rest of the race was a blur. I had to dodge people sprinting across the street. The shortest distance felt like 10 miles. The race wouldn’t end. Thankfully, Laura kept checking on me and pushing me. She gave me water and told me I could finish strong.
Right after the “800 Meters to go” sign, my playlist ended. My thoughts were “No shit, I was supposed to be done already” and “FUCK IT’S ONLY ME AND MY NEGATIVE THOUGHTS.” I gave it 100% effort. I emptied my already depleted tank.
I mustered up a post for the race photographer.
My true feelings are expressed below:
I crossed the finish line. I knew I ran a very respectable race but I was disappointed.
Official time: 1:42:42. A new PR by 41 seconds.
I was an emotional wreck. I cried AGAIN. Who cries when they PR? Not cool.
Then I got over it. This helped:
$5 32oz Coors Lights will solve ALL of my problems. We danced, we drank, we celebrated.
I’m proud of my accomplishment but I will always yearn for more. I think that is a good thing.