wow! way to go to Marathon Girl, PeeWee!!! below are her stats...
(BY THE WAY - her birthday is on Tuesday...)
10K Split: 1:16:50
Half-m Split: 2:39:01
20 Mile Split: 4:19:26
Pace per mile: 12:50
Finish Time: 5:46:18
Net time: 5:36:15
Place: 32681
Gender Place: 10106
Age Place: 1724
erm... depending how my knees (*and rest of this godforsaken body) are, perhaps i shall attempt to train for a marathon for next year (and pray that my number isn't picked in the lottery... but train nonetheless.)
again, WAY TO GO CHICKY!!! Proud of ya'!
also --- "runner" up on the kudos list (yessss... pun intended):
Benjamin Wagner kickin' marathon arse with a 4:34:33 Finish Time!!
::UPDATED & ADDED ON NOV. 8th AT 2AM::
okay - i know i am harping on the PeeWee Marathon... basically I am exercising vicariously through her! She sent an email to her friends and all those folks and i asked her if i could post it here for y'all to get the lowdown from P.W. -- so, without further ado... i present Blue Runner #34808:
Yay! I did it! I even manage to surprise myself sometimes.
My results were:
Finish time: 5:46:18
Net finish time: 5:36:15
10K split: 1:16:50
Half-marathon split: 2:39:01
20-mile split: 4:19:26
I had to get up at 4:45 in the morning, and the last time I was up at that hour, it was from watching movies all night. I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the batteries in my alarm clock died the second my alarm clock went off, but 4:45 was actually a hoped for goal in the marathon.
I took a private bus with my Running Center teammates to the start on Staten Island, then sat around and people watched for three hours. It is truly an international race, and I heard foreign languages as often as I heard English. I stood in line for the Port-o-Potty for 30 minutes in front of a woman of about 70 (I have no idea where she was from, I like to imagine she was from Finland), she was eating what looked like dark chocolate pudding out of tupperware using a measuring spoon. Maybe it was mud, but it didn't look good.
Finally, at 9:40, I queued up with 37,500 people, and as we stood there, people started tossing clothing to the sides of the road. There goes a pair of sweats, a garbage sack (they are nice for keeping warm, and very disposable), t-shirts, gloves...as we inched forward, it looked like either a hurricane, a war or Woodstock had been there. Suddenly, we heard the cannon, and we applauded. This race was finally underway.
We were inching forward, and as I looked over my left shoulder to the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, I could see the bobbing heads crossing. We moved down a hill, around a corner, and suddenly, we were on the bridge, and hitting the start line 10 minutes after the race began.
I think the best feeling I had the entire day was in that first 20 minutes. Crossing that bridge was a spectacular image I will always remember. Of course I ran the first two or three miles with a stupid smile on my face. I even passed that Finnish chocolate pudding woman. I called out to her "hey!", and she waved and asked in her broken English "how many?" and pointed at her watch. I held up a hand with spread fingers and said "five!" she said "me, six!". I wished her good luck and pulled ahead.
The beginning is always the best, because I was feeling great, and I knew today was the payoff for training since June. As we came off the bridge, there were small groups of people cheering for us. Three cops yelled "go Sam!". Every time someone called my name, it surprised me. And that happened hundreds of times.
Somewhere between mile 3 and 4, my right calf cramped. Oh shit. I had 23 miles to go, and my leg cramped. That is the first and only time during the run I thought I might not finish. It was cramped the entire race, and I actually stopped to try to stretch it out three or four times. I can't believe I am saying this, but I got used to it.
It sucks to run for two and a half hours, and know I was only halfway to the goal. At this point, I was feeling it. I knew my co-worker mentioned to me she would be cheering for me after I crossed the Pulaski bridge. I crossed the bridge, and watched for Leslie. Although she told me 'Vernon or Jackson or 45th' or something, I was thinking about things other than reading street signs. Shortly after I gave up, I heard someone on my left yelling my name wildly "Sam! SAM! SAM!!!" I looked over, and there she was. I ran back five feet to slap her hand. I can't even remember what she said, I mumbled something about pain, and ran.
I have been a spectator at lots of marathons, and when the runners thank me for clapping, or yelling encouragement, I was always amazed by their effusiveness. Being on the other side as a runner, I realize now how much it means to recognize someone in the crowd.
Miles 13 to 18 were the worst. I think everybody in my time range walked the entire Queensboro bridge. We seemed to always walk at least part of the bridges. There were no spectators on the bridges, and combined with the uphill, it was an easy excuse to walk. Nearing mile 18, I was feeling defeated. My calf was still cramped, and now both legs hurt from top to bottom. My back was killing me. I would have loved to just walk to the curb and sit down. I had just walked almost that entire bridge, and now I wanted to walk some more. I was trying to crawl out of my funk, when I heard someone yelling my name again. It was Daisy in her green sweatsuit, and over her shoulder, I saw her Mom. They were cheering for me, and Daisy started running alongside me. She said something like "hey you are doing great! You can do this, keep running!" She is one of those eternally perky people you can't really be crabby around when she smiles. I started running again, and that kept me going for another mile.
A British guy and I found ourselves walking next to each other. He was complaining about the run, and how he had done this marathon 20 years earlier, and how much easier it was then. I told him I think marathons must be like childbirth. You hate the pain, and after a few days, you forget and think it would be a good idea to do another one. He said he took some Tylenol, and was waiting for it to kick in. I had a $20 in my pocket, and visions of Jack Daniels shots swam through my head. You can bet that at the next aid station, I ran over and picked up some Tylenol. Within 15 minutes, I was feeling immense relief.
I managed to run the rest of the way. I was happy to finally reach Central Park. As I passed a woman walking, I asked her if she was okay. She said she was hurting, and feeling like she couldn't run anymore. I said to her "don't think of this as a marathon, think of it as four miles". Apparently, she was unaware that we were at mile 22. She said "aw hell, I can run four miles" and took off. Another mile down. And I hear Daisy yelling again. "GO SAM, you can do it!!" Daisy and her Mom again at mile 23. How cool is that?
Central Park was just a blur. I did almost every mile of training for this marathon in that park. Nearing the end, I spotted my teammate, Pritha. I started sprinting to catch her, but she picked up the pace as well. I must have finished about 20 feet behind her. I felt pretty good at the end, compared to those in between miles. I am a little disappointed with my finishing time, but then I think "hey, who cares? I FINISHED!"
On to the next adventure...
Apparently, the start was also a fave of Benjamin Wagner's...
"The start might have been the best part. "New York, New York" gets me every time..."
go read his version of the day.
he also has some photos of the day....
back to your regularly scheduled sloth, gigglechick:
maybe after looking at his "shameless plug" t-shirt, i will have to make a gigglechick.com one and run that S.o.B. race! or... maybe i will start with a half-marathon.... or a 3k.... or, eh, the Manasquan 1 Mile Turkey Trot Fun Run is in a week and a half.
