Gliding through Times Square

At 7:12 on this cold and windy Sunday morning, I stepped into my corral for the 2014 New York City Half Marathon, six back from the starting line. Breathed. Made small talk with a few guys around me. Breathed. Started my GPS watch. Listened to the speeches and National anthem. Craned, failing to locate my friend Tim in the corral before me. Tossed my XXL burnt orange Coney Island hoodie into the donation bin along the sidelines. Shivered. Began the forward movement with the crowd, slowly at first, taking about five minutes after gun time for my foot to hit the mat.

From start to finish, my race today was marked, remarkably, by a lack of thinking. It was crowded but I hit my stride about three miles in. I knew I wanted to maintain a pace of just below 8:00 minute miles with the 2nd half faster than the first. I periodically reviewed how I was doing and the answer that invariably returned was that I was just fine. Nothing hurt. Nothing was even particularly uncomfortable. A couple of times I felt my energy flagging a bit and downed a half of a gu before the upcoming water station. I paced myself with other runners who seemed to be moving at the pace I wanted to move, until I was ready to pass them. I flowed around the park, through Times Square and 42nd Street, down the West Side Highway, and around the tip of Manhattan, staying strong in every mile.

What made this race so different from other races for me? I had one vivid moment, while still in Central Park, when I realized that nothing mattered. I was there, running and that was all that I needed to do. I didn't need to think about the time or my previous times or what was ahead. I ran. And no one, particularly myself, had any expectations at all of me on this day. It was mine to do with what I wanted.

My fastest half marathon to this point, other than during full marathons, was last year's Brooklyn Half. But that race was marked for me by going out too fast, taking several pit stops during the run, throwing up at the finish line, and an overall sense that it was not a race well run despite the strong finishing time. 

Today I ran a little more than two minutes faster than Brooklyn. And it was my most mature race ever. I stuck to my planned pace, never got discouraged, and each 5K was faster than the last. 

Recently I have realized that my status as a newbie runner is no longer a fit. Today proved that. I have a ton still to learn, but this morning I finally loved racing.