On June 24, 2012, I first lost my virginity at the Sleepy Hollow Sprint Triathlon. Yesterday, I did it again.
First, a big shout out to Jeff Levine, cousin of my cousins Linda and Jonathan. At the second Passover dinner, I learned that Jeff lived in Long Branch, a few minutes away from the starting line at Monmouth park race track in Oceanport, NJ. Not only did he let me stay in his house (dayenu!) and feed me vegan pizza (dayenu!), but he got up at 5:30 with me, tried to feed me breakfast (thanks, I brought my own applesauce and protein powder), gave me a ride to the park, and picked me up at the end of the race (dayenu! Though the last being oh so necessary…). What a terrific host. Thank you, Jeff (and Linda and Jonthan!)
Foolishly brought a backpack for bag check – sanctioned plastic bag only, of course, but I managed to fit my sweats and jacket and all other gear in two bags that they tied together. A little chilly in my NYC tri shirt and shorts for the 90 minute wait (got there early to beat the traffic that would have started with the 6:45 HM), stayed in the sun, ran around for all of ten minutes and loaded into the corals for an 8:00 curtain. Coach Debi said to ignore those stupid pacers, but I started with the 3:30 guys, if only to have a reference point (and to shoot for the Boston Qualifying time for my age group). Chatter, chatter with a few other first-timers, and some very seasoned veterans (17th here, 2nd there, 87th for a guy in his late 50s who told borscht belt jokes at mile 5 or so…) Cousin Rob’s mantra kept me stable: “I am excited, not nervous. That’s my choice to make.”
Took it easy, but not so slow, zone 1 heart rate until mile 3-4 (but just out of curiosity, 8ish minute miles), zone 2 in mile 4-5, and then hang there, trotting along… By this time I’d fallen in with the 3:35 pacer, and reading my shirt he chatted about doing the NYC Tri this year, but by mile 6 or 7 i was staying with the faster pacers. Walked along the water stops and then caught up with that 3:30 group – I wasn’t chasing a person, but a time. Kept up, with shot blocks and power gels as planned, kicking in the caffeine at 90 minutes, switching to water instead of Gatorade (cuz my stomach said, “No, No, No!”), and suddenly realizing I was feeling pretty good at 2 hours but how will i keep this up??
Then we left the town streets of Long Branch and Deal and hit the boardwalk. Wind, wind, wind. As if I were with my Sunday bike group, I rushed ahead just to be able to draft off others and save some energy. Can’t complain though – the course was so flat, the day was bright and rainless, the scenery was pretty (when I could consciously look up and say to myself, huh, pretty). One big accomplishment: I really had fun for most of the race, despite the worry about whether I was going to survive. Also, I now see that I my average HR exceeded zone 2 as early as… mile 10. Whoops.
Got some time in the bank – other than miles 1, 5, 8 and 13, all of the first 20 miles were sub-8s – but by mile 22, I was starting to lose the pacers. Debi and I planned that walking at water stations should stop at mile 18, but I gave in to the ache in my left hip (more precisely, my piriformis and gluteus media – I am learning more about my anatomy than I ever wished to know…) that had plagued me since mile 9, and that right heel ached now and then, and which hamstring was playing that high C at any given minute? After walking along that mile 23 water stop, I did an 8:44 and lost the pacers so thoroughly I wondered if they had quit.
Anyway, despite the time in the bank, the wind and the mental fatigue took over and I didn’t get back to 8s. Now, I realized I planned not look at my watch/heartrate that late in the race in terms of limiting my exertion, I needed to look at it to reassure myself that I was fine, to see that I was slow, and that I should push harder.
Sprinted that last 0.2 (avg. 7:29), but never caught up with my goal, and came in at 3:31:36. Which, of course, is pretty fabulous for a first Marathon. I’m not even sure if I want to DO Boston; I simply wanted to be able to say, “I qualified in my first attempt.”
Despite my lack of self-restraint, I was better off than a lot of other people: from miles 18 to the end I passed (net) 68 runners, many of them walking. But OK, “I didn’t believe hard enough” that I could ever catch up, and the 8’ miles felt so gooood. Staying slower is gonna take a bigger leap of faith than I was mentally prepared to take before this race.
BUT (and here’s the takeaway): in retrospect, I feel fine about the 1 minute and change. It’s everything I could physically plus mentally do at that time. Next time (if I choose to do this again!) my mental part, at least, will be better able to handle that level of discomfort and adversity and with THIS race in my Experience Bank, I’ll have the confidence that I can push harder and not perish.
And one thing which I forgot during the race: “Remember the secret of the Tarahumara: they run with joy!”
Thus endeth the tale of the 51-year old virgin.