The first time I ran a race, I peed my pants. It was 2007, and I was at the first meet of the season for my high school’s cross country team. As I neared the end of what seemed like the longest 2 miles of my life, I lost all my willpower and alleviated my exhaustion with an emptying of the bladder. Since then, I vowed to never run again.
Flash forward to 2015. Someone had just stolen my fixie bicycle, so instead of going on a bike ride to meet my daily exercise quota, I decided to go on a run. As I pounded the pavement to the tunes of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run,” I was overwhelmed with a sense of euphoria - a runner’s high - during which I felt like I could run forever like Forrest Gump. Since then, I started running again.
NYRR
With the blaring sound of a gun, I bolted from the start line to begin my 13.1 miles journey around Central Park. While some people may question the “joy” of running two full loops around the park, I surprisingly found myself truly enjoying the entire race. Both the variety in elevation, from the flat stretch along the Museum Mile to the dreaded Harlem Hill, as well as the scenic natural environs of the park, mitigated any boredom I may have experienced otherwise.
MarathonFoto
Beyond all the sightseeing and people watching in Central Park, the majority of my focus was fixated on the road and the race. Whereas the first lap around the park was a chance for me to get to know the terrain, the second lap was all about refinement and speed. I knew I was going fast when I lapped a group of walkers around mile 8. Soon enough, I was running past a horde of joggers. My breath got heavier and my heart pounded faster; yet my body felt lighter and stronger than ever before. Motivated by the thought of indulging in a hearty meal after the race, I sprinted as hard as I could in the final stretch to finish my first half-marathon in New York City at 1:28.26, which was good enough for a 17th place finish.