Phoning it in

Ah, the excitement of race morning! The vibrant colors, the sunshine, the mild weather, the muted comraderie among 3,487 runners... the walking lighthouses... (well, OK, there are 3,847 listed in the NYRR race results. I know for a fact, however, that at least four walkers came in after 3 hours, nine minutes...)



I'd signed up for the Manhattan Half Marathon right after Christmas. I was in the middle of fighting a lung infection and believed that the oral antibiotics would bring my lung functions back up to nominal and I'd be on training track and this would be a good long-run for the weekend. It was a bit of a surprise to everybody that the Manhattan Half, usually an August event, was being held all of a sudden in January, but there it was. In contrast to the six thousand who show up later in the year, we had a (paltry?) showing of four thousand for this, the beginning of the Grand Prix. (I am determined to run four of these this year, and will miss the fifth because I'll be running a marathon in Nashville two days later.)

I brought along my Motorola RAZR and took some pics along the way. Me, all chipper and cheary before the race:

Runners entering the park and walking to the start line. Baggage buses in back.

My friend Lou, otherwise known as the Bells Guy. Very recognizable, and he's actually started recognizing me, too. :)

The starting line and the announcer. We would pass this point three times total.


Anyway, I just want to say right off the top that I had good, but not unreasonable hopes, for this half-marathon. I knew I wouldn't be turning in anything but my slowest 13.1-mile performance to date, but had no idea how bad it would get. I knew I'd be straining to beat the three-hour time limit, but had no idea how frustrating and humiliating the reality would be.

Leaving the house, I got out early and happened to hit two express trains right off, so that I arrived an hour before the horn. Not a bad way to start a race. The weather was cool, but not cold, and it seemed clear to me that most of the people around me were not counting on a PR today. It's just too damn early in the season for a half-marathon!

Realized I'd forgotten my tunes. Huh. Well, that might be a lesson, in that every time I DO use my tunes, my runs end up uneven - and I've turned them off in the past in order to even out my pacing. So maybe having only my own thoughts to keep me company is the best way to go, I thought. I decided at the last minute that since this race would involve a lot of walking for me, and I wasn't worrying about a real time, that I'd use the water stations and not take my bottle of HEED with me.

Now, as I'm still battling that lung infection (and it seems to be getting worse, unfortunately), I decided to cheat. I mean, I really, REALLY shouldn't have even gone to the race, and I knew this. So I pulled every dirty trick I had in order to ensure I could at least breathe well: I took albuterol when I got up, along with ibuprofen, had a cup of regular coffee on the train in to Manhattan. 30 minutes before the start of the race, I took Primatene tablets (ephedrine and glu-something) and pocketed a Primatene inhaler (epinephrine). I thought I'd be all set to slowly toil out a 2:45 or 2:50 half.

Oh boy was I ever wrong!

First, the primatene tabs didn't have nearly the punch they had the last time I took them, two years ago. I guess you don't get passages opening up if they're already filled with gunk. But I did at least FEEL good. Not quite as good when running on Dayquil, but I wasn't willing to take them if I didn't have a cold.

The starting lineup...from the rear POV.


Yes, the lighthouse did jog the race. And yes, I was beaten by a f***ing jogging lighthouse!


The first half of the race was OK and conformed to my expectations. I ran continuously the first mile and half. Not fast, but steadily, except for the upper half of the harlem hills. (I managed to jog past the overhanging rock, so I feel I hit a certain minimum there). After that, breathing got difficult again and I slipped into a pattern of walking up inclines, and jogging the downs and flats, which meant I'd run a quarter mile or so, walk a quarter mile, back and forth.

The first few time splits didn't make sense, but the splits for six and seven told the story: I was on track, if I could push it a bit more, to come in under three hours. That would be nice.


Breathing continued to worsen little by little. I took the Primatene mist at mile six or seven... didn't seem to help much. I'm now out of answers to the essential problem. :(

And then the cramps started. Mile 9, I tried to pick it up to a jog again and slammed with cramps in the calves, coming on like spasms and not quitting until I slowed to a fast walk again. After a half dozen tries at this, I decided I'd finish the last 3.1 miles (I was now at about marker 10) walking. I tried to keep up a steady, consistent pace, but noted with sadness that even those who ONLY walk races were slowly passing me by and that I saw no more mile markers after 10, though I did manage to snag cups of water just barely before the tables were dismantled. (I want to express my gratitude to all the kids NYRR hires to man these stations - they're out there for far longer than the runners and don't have the advantage of exercise to keep them warm!)



Moving up Cat Hill and passing where the starting line had been at 81st street felt great. The last mile passed swiftly, though with everybody else around me being recreational joggers - no more racing people could be seen - it was pretty lonely. I did the last third of a mile with a guy who caught up from behind. We crossed the finish line together and that - if this isn't grasping at straws - just about felt like the best part of the race; that I didn't have to cross that line alone. Astonishingly, the finish line was still up and the mats beeped as I stepped across. Still, the time didn't get recorded and I'm not officially listed among the finishers. Nor is my erstwhile companion or the two people who came in after us. (I have sent an email to make sure I at least get the credit for having done the race!)

Cleopatra's Needle, outside the Met, about 84th street or so. Yes, we clever Americans stole this from Egypt. No, they don't seem to want it back.


Cones have a thee-hour expiration date:


So does the finishing chute:


I finally make it to the end - and I'm surprised it's still there!

So.

The lung issues are continuing to be frustrating. I don't know when - or even if - this will ever get resolved satisfactorily to where I can at least slowly jog a continuous 5K. The thought that I may never breathe well again scares me, particularly since this isn't only a problem when running! (I'm winded at the top of stairs, am having asthma attacks resting at home, etc.)

The legs, I guess, are becoming de-trained and that's what caused the cramps. OR perhaps the unfamiliar drugs in my system did that. Or just a lack of potassium (haven't been eating my banana-a-day lately).

I'm a lot Disappointed right now, and just about as much Confused. I feel like I'm losing control over my body. The only clear thing after this race is that Nashville is now in jeopardy. If things don't turn around by the Brooklyn Half, I will have to run (or walk) only the half-marathon in Nashville.

My legs were pretty sore and stiff today. I imagine I'm not the only one suffering though. I heard one guy getting ready to drive home tell his buddy that this was the first time he'd run in four months