BUMPY ROAD AHEAD
Rain. Snow. Whatever. I was ready to run the 2019 Fred Lebow Manhattan Half Marathon. Winter storm be damned.
I will admit, running 13.1 miles in the freezing rain did make me rethink my running gear 2 or 300 times the night before the race. I decided to play it safe and wear 3 layers. I also downgraded my goals for this race:
- Have fun
- Survive
Besides me, it turns out over 3,700 other runners pulled it together that ugly morning as well. Together we huddled around the temporary corrals placed along Central Park West. Mother Nature graciously held back the heavy rain just long enough for all the runners to get in position, then POW! The starting gun goes off and the rain comes crashing down!
Despite the freezing rain, I started to sweat almost immediately. My decision to wear 3 layers turned out to be a strategical error. Too much humidity.
I quickly slipped off my outer-layer. It was already soaking wet from the rain. I then carefully tied it tightly around my waist. A couple of miles later, I had to remove another layer! The wet gear dangled from my hips. And yes, it was a drag.
Around Mile 5, the road turned into a roaring river.
To my left, an older, silver hair runner plowed straight through a row of puddles. Boom! Boom! Boom! With every step he let out a ghastly grunt followed by a loud snort. It sounded like he was about to croak.
Around Mile 6 I got my second wind. I was now running fast again. It felt effortless. I quickly passed by grunting Grandpa. Under my breath I wished the old-timer good luck.
A few miles later, the rain began to slow down. Unfortunately, I did too. I found myself slogging up Harlem Hill in slow-motion. I was depleted. The 80-foot climb exhausted me. I was losing focus. Soon my running form collapsed completely. I was a mess. And I still had 3 miles left to go!
At Mile 11, the silver hair gentleman was back! Still grunting and snorting in perfect rhythm. He quickly moved ahead of me. As I struggled to keep up, I began to admire the way the old dog’s legs swung back and forth like a precision Swiss watch.
“Damn it! Pull yourself together,” I shouted to myself.
Quickly, I locked into the old boy’s steps, matched his stride and hung on. After a little while, I built-up enough confidence to pull ahead one last time. My mojo was back, baby! The old-timer slowly faded behind me. I whispered one last sweet bye-bye.
For the next mile I soared like a bird over the hills and through puddles. Everything was going great, until it wasn’t. Without warning I crashed. This time it was serious. I felt light-headed. I was definitely running on fumes. Luckily I could see the finish line up ahead.
Lifting my legs was getting difficult, but to add insult to injury, Grandpa was back! Ugh! Once again, he pulled ahead of me, still kicking, groaning and snorting.
“This guy is not human,” I told myself. “He’s a silver hair Terminator.”
The two of us pounded the pavement, in sync, toward the finish line. Everything hurt but I refused to give up. I needed more. I needed to do some serious digging this time. Slowly I started creeping closer and closer toward the old silver hair war-horse. I was now five strides behind him. The finish line was seconds away. I was now four strides behind him. Three! Two! One!
I was too late. I simply ran out of road. The silver hair maverick crossed the finish line before me! And all I could do was laugh. A perfect ending to a perfect day.
Statistics
Overall: 2,928 / 3,725
Age Division: 103 / 140
Gender: 1,989 / 2,357
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