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Posts tagged as “Pre-Race”

Part 2: Taper Sadness


For my first Marathon, this past spring, I experienced the Taper Madness for the first time. I had a slight foot injury and was trying to balance a light 3 week taper with not exacerbating my ankle problem. I felt like I was going crazy between tapering, trying to heal, and pre-marathon anxiety. And thus, “Taper Madness “ was born.

Marathon Training

This time around, I had entered into a period that could only be described as “Taper Sadness.”

Since the debacle on Staten Island, I was on a strict fast and furious regiment of…. rest. Rest. Ice. Hobbling. And.... more rest. No running for me whatsoever. Is that even technically a taper? My one goal at this point was to banish the knee pain into oblivion with the hope that I could test it out on a run during the Poland Spring Marathon Kick Off 5K, one week before The Marathon.

For nearly two weeks my knee would ache after merely being on my feet, which was frequently unavoidable since I waitress.

Ice, Ice baby….

I did a light mile jog to pick up my bib on Oct 25th, for the Kick Off. It was not terrible, but it still hurt. I made the decision to forgo the race so I could squeeze in more healing time. A zero mileage taper would be far from ideal, but no marathon would be a nightmare.

And so I officially DNS-ed my first race.

I picked up a knee brace at Jack Rabbit. I’m not a medical expert by any stretch of my imagination, but the braces always seemed to me a bit of wishful thinking hocus pocus. Obviously, I was desperate.

Lo and behold, I should have bought that thing weeks ago. It mushed everything in just right and all week it was like having a little miracle hug my knee in all the right places. One of my co-workers saw it and said “Isn’t that thing great? I’m wearing one on each knee right now. And I run with them.”

Where was this information all my life? I thought. I am but an infant in the vast ocean of running related knowledge.

New york city tcs marathon expo

On Thursday, I sprang out of bed and limped over to the TCS New York City Marathon Expo. It was bittersweet. I had dreamed of attending as a marathon entrant for more than a year, but now I felt like an impostor since I wasn't sure if I was actually going to be healthy enough to run. It was incredible though and I tried to imagine that everything would be fine when I did the Dash to the Finish- that my knee would be great and I could finally put my head in The Marathon 110%.

Dash to the Finish

Saturday morning, as my family was in the middle of a 5 hour drive to the city for marathon spectating, I prepared for the Dash to the Finish. The race would be cold and wet. Quite wet.

We kicked off in front of the United Nations and almost immediately my knee began to ache. By the time I had finished at my “nice and easy” pace of 10 mins/mile, I was devastated. The last thing mile as we passed the mile 26 banner all set up for the marathon, I thought: There’s no way I’m going to see that sign tomorrow because I’m not going to be able to do the marathon.

As I funneled out with the finishers, I skipped the water and snacks; I couldn’t run fast enough to even get thirsty, and the more I thought about my diminishing marathon prospects the more I felt sick to my stomach.

I called the Mister and began to cry as I told him I wasn’t sure I should try to run tomorrow. I thought I would know with certainty what my knee would be capable of, and I didn’t. I thought I would know 100% whether to run or not run, but I didn’t.  I prepared for over a year and a half, and my family was already en route, for a Marathon that probably wasn’t going to happen for me. I was devastated.

Moreover, my Runner Brother has been dying for years to run NYC and I desperately wanted to gift my bib to him (so he could enjoy the race, and my family wouldn’t have driven for nothing), but NYRR strictly prohibits any sort of bib transfer. Period. So realistically, not much of an option.

The Mister and my family basically advised: 1.) Listen to your body, if you can’t run, that’s ok, you’ll do the race one day. It’s not worth permanently injuring something. 2.) If you think you can at least try, at least try.

I agreed with #1, though it wasn’t very palatable.  #2 made a lot of sense in theory, but I hesitated because I felt like everyone was underestimating the key element of my own stubbornness. If I started, I would want to push it as far as I could, as long as I could, no matter how bad my knee got (a la the Staten  Island ½ Marathon). And since that was a day of poor decision making culminating in one of the most excruciating days of my life, I wasn’t sure I wanted to turn what was supposed to be my marathon dream into my marathon nightmare.

I told my brother “Best case scenario, my knee manages to hold together for 26.2 miles but hurts the whole way and I still spend every minute of that run on an emotional roller coaster waiting for it to all fall apart.”

Ultimately, I told everyone that I would try. I would see what happens, but to know ahead of time if I drop out, it’s because the knee is bad bad bad. Either I run it and finish, or I drop out in Brooklyn and we all go to lunch.

I told everyone my mantra would be, I WILL drag my body through every borough of this city.

And just like that, it was on.

tcs new york city marathon expo

The 2014 NYRR Brooklyn Half Marathon, or, A Series of Unfortunate Events


This week it was me vs. Brooklyn.

Brooklyn Half Marathon

Brooklyn won, in case you are wondering.

The bib pickup for the Brooklyn Half was only available in the three days preceding the race, which meant all runners had to take a pilgrimage to the “pre-party” site to a somewhat remote pier (of course) in (you guessed it) Brooklyn. I was a pretty busy between intern-shipping and work shifts, but I hustled out via the AC train early Wednesday afternoon. After getting off the train, we followed a series of markers down to the water’s edge. And when markers would no longer suffice, volunteers held signs and dance- seemingly animating their arrows like cartoons from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”

pier party

The actual shin-dig on the pier was sweet. It was obvious that a lot of creativity went into its conception. This week I read a lot of complaints about the bib pickup situation, if you will. To which I would respond as follows: if you don’t like a ½ mile walk, maybe don’t sign up to run a half marathon. Runners get a bad rap for being self-centered and arrogant. Let’s try to tone it down a notch, shan’t we? I respect that even if this one particular bib-pickup wasn’t especially convenient for me, it was incredibly festive and creative.

But seeing as how I had to bounce in and out, I didn’t have too much time to roam around the expo portion. But I did pick up one of the most amazing pastries I have ever eaten  in my life. It was a raspberry crumble square and as I walked back nibbling on this sweet that surely fell from the gods above (actually from  Chickpea & Olive), I considered leaving all of my current obligations behind and going back to beg them to take me into their kitchen and teach me their secrets since it had suddenly become so glaringly obvious to me I have much to learn in the ways of baking.

I thought about this until I got back to the street and was sidetracked by the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, where I was duty-bound to buy a cone. It was pretty humid and I was still hungry. One thing was clear, if I ever moved to Brooklyn, it wouldn’t be to spend my time eating kale.

Cool Brooklyn Building

Back at the AC train I spent ten minutes looking for my Metro Card. It was gone, but I didn’t know that yet. It would be the first metro card I would lose this week.

Thursday morning I had lunch shift to work at the ol’ restaurant. But I began woke up at 5:30 and continued to slip in and out of sleep for the next two hours, delirious in the new humidity. In once instance I would wake up and think it was Saturday morning and I had to be in Brooklyn, ten minutes later I would think I was late for woke, ten minutes after that I thought I was late for Brooklyn. And so it went.

Friday night I tried my best to get to sleep early, since I wanted to be out the door as close to 5 am as I could, and I kind of succeeded. Until I woke up just after midnight and was stuck tossing and turning for about two more hours.

Before I knew it, 4:50 am had arrived. Luckily, I had the good sense to lay everything out and ten minutes later I was out the door. It was cool and quiet and windy. As I juggled my water and phone I thought I dropped something (but I was holding everything I needed, wasn’t I?) Of course, this would turn out to be the second metro card I would lose this week.

I headed cross town and took the 2 train toward the Franklin Av. stop. One thing I did not factor into my trip was that it would be running local. Sigh. Just have to make it into the corral by 6:40. I spent the next hour eyeing the clock feverishly. The train was PACKED- post Union Square I think runners had serious difficulty squeezing in and by the time we were coasting under Brooklyn, forgetaboutit.

We emerged from underground to sunlight and police and many more runners who had woken up at god knows what time. Security was quick and painless and I didn’t have a bag to check so I’m not quite sure what that looked like. Then into the corrals.

Brooklyn Half Wave 1

And we waited. And stretched. And tried to decipher the bathroom lines. Some announcements no one could really understand. Someone sang the national anthem and tore it up (good tore it up). And we were off.

As foreshadowed by two lost metro cards (I’m always losing things in Brooklyn,) this would not be my race. What follows will be a description of things slowly and agonizingly falling apart for me, beginning with the Garmin.

As we past the final front corals and came upon a turn, we went over a timing mat which I mistakenly thought was the start. Unfortunately, the start was about 30 seconds later. Beep. Boop. Blep. I tried to quickly fix my watch, but it was too late and I knew that was that. I would have a “rough” idea of my time but arrrrrgggggggghhhhhh.

The first 5 miles had a lot of spectators and the most up-hills ( and very gentle hills, at that). I knew the first half took place predominantly in the park, and that is probably so eager to get out of the park. And that is probably why the park seemed to take forever. But I was generally on track with my time goals.

And considering I accidentally drank all of my handheld water before the race and actually started with an empty bottle and had to fill it up at the early water stations, that ain’t half bad.

But by now it was starting to feel pretty hot and humid.

Lets start some tunes, I thought. Failboat city, up ahead:  ipod was on shuffle, when it shouldn’t have been. Goodbye carefully crafted playlist, see you next time.

And then my stomach kicked into high gear. The bad gear. I had some shotblocks which I typically eat about three every four miles. I took some around mile 5, but that would be it for the day. I felt downright acidic in my throat, then in my stomach, and floating back to my throat. The last four miles I had to spontaneously stop for 20 seconds here, or 20 seconds there because this feeling was making me feel nauseous and I didn’t really feel like running over to the grassy medium to throw up next to some unsuspecting spectator. My goal time 1:55- 1:58 slipped further and further out of reach. After 1:30:00, I had three miles left. Perfectly doable- on any other day. I knew I probably wouldn’t PR due to my foot injury (4-3 weeks out) and my marathon recovery (2-1 weeks out), but I definitely didn’t want to PW (personal worst).

Like I said, this would not be my race.

Finally, finally, we are getting close. We pass the 800m sign! And I am hurting severely. My stomach issue is killing me and because of it I haven’t been hydrating or fueling like I should have been and the heat and humidity is gearing up to take me down. Seriously. The last 400m were one step above survival mode. Instead of kicking in everything I had and finishing triumphantly, I was employing the Finish-Chute-Emergency-Procedure. Step one: focus/ take it very easy, don’t throw up/pass out. Step two: don’t walk.

I executed both steps, just barely, and just like that it was over.


As they funneled us towards medals and photo-ops and underneath women on stilts (I was so shot I literally could not process the people on stilts), my only thought was whether I could beg someone for a bag before I was sick on their nice boardwalk.

It passed. And I began to hear several others around me. Two people talking about how they had bad races. One man saying how he had to chase down a police officer to help another runner.

Don’t get me wrong, the Brooklyn Half Marathon was awesome. It was beautiful, well-organized, energetic, and festive. It was also massive, and apparently the largest ½ marathon in the U.S. to date. And I know plenty of the 25,000 runners or so absolutely killed it.

2014 Brooklyn Half Marathon Medal

But for me, this race was brutal. My body fought me every step of the way.

And that’s ok. PW? PW. There’s a first time for everything, for better or for worse. And it may literally be a worst for now, but it will make future runs better.

Brooklyn 1, Sam 0.

It’s safe to say, in 2015 I plan on evening that score.