This past Saturday marked my first successful half marathon, running the Brooklyn Half, apparently one of the largest half marathon races in the country. To be honest, if you had asked me 3 years ago about running a half marathon, I would have given you a light shrug, and explained I mainly run for mental clarity and to relieve stress, rather than beating the ‘clock’ so to speak. Maybe my judgment comes from the number of cars I’ve seen plastered with kilometer run stickers which is retrospective ignorance, is more a posturing of delightful innocent pride, than anything else. Even so, the notion of training for a run, whether it be a half marathon or full, has never been appealing (though, there’s probably an assumption no one likes training).
We get it. You run.
Regardless of all this, when my partner approached me about running the Brooklyn Half with them, I chewed the idea over in my brain, gave another light shoulder shrug, and replied “Sure, why not.” With the chaos that has consumed & collected around me the past few years, running a half marathon felt, in a way, like an attainable goal, and one I could check off in conversation saying “Yep, I did that!”.
I’ll be the first to admit, my attitude towards planning anything, specifically training in this case, definitely falls loosely on the verge of seat-of-your-pants/winging-it. A bad habit, I’m aware, and one I’m working on mending, as experiences often prove me wrong. My partner did a much better job of setting a calendar for us of frequency & distances per week leading up to the half marathon - this was not her first rodeo with longer distances races. While we definitely put an honest effort towards adhering to this stricter schedule, life, as you know, happens (She was much better than me). As the warmer weather approached and became more frequent, so did our motivation for running. Despite all our best efforts, the pressure from realizing how close the race was looming, became a bit daunting. We even considered skipping it all together to see Ethel Cain play in Washington DC… I’m glad we didn’t.
Back in the beginning of April, The Hold Steady had a record release event at Rough Trade record store in Manhattan for their latest album, The Price of Progress. With the crowd, and band, squeezed into such a small venue, The Hold Steady brought such an intimate atmosphere, the delight of experiencing them in a quieter, toned down, showcase was perfect.. The highlight of the setlist was Oaks, an existential ballad, and quite easily one of my favorite of their songs.
No one listens to the band anymore
After the show & record signing, I was able to catch the lead singer, Craig Finn, outside Rough Trade, as they were all departing. Thanking him for the show, and congratulating him on the new record, we slipped into discussing the half marathon, as I had heard him, to my surprise, speak about the run with another fan earlier. Arriving right off of work, my partner joined us, as we all discussed our (lack of) training, timing, and how the pandemic had really created an impact on our abilities. The conversation was incredibly down to earth, it was amazing to have such a casual chat with someone who’s music has shaped my entire life. Don’t worry, the meet didn’t slip into ‘punisher’ territory. Telling my partner later, Craig was shockingly personable, I felt as though we all could have gone out for beers afterwards. As we said our goodbyes, Craig told us to look out for him during the race, and you know I would.
There’s a general common saying for running which goes ‘If you can run half of the total amount, you can run the whole thing’. Tending to err on the side of caution, for myself, I knew if I could knock out 9 or 10 miles in a given stretch, then my likelihood of achieving the whole 13.1 miles would be no issue. A week before the race, my attempt was successful with 11 miles. Here, my attitude towards the entire race reformed into something a bit more optimistic. Weirdly, my excitement for the half marathon was amplified.
Here I am, excited at my name being displayed
A day or so prior to the official day, a tinge of doubt surfaced about us running. Rain was forecasted for the entire morning of the race, and one of our friends was already considering dropping out due to the inclement weather. Coming from Portland, running in the rain never bothered me - you fight through it, especially in the bleakest months - but this was when I would casually run 5 miles at a time - running a whole 13 miles in the rain is a significantly different animal. Checking our phones frequently, the total accumulation hourly was reasonably low. With our friend looking like they would drop out, we hesitantly decided we would see how the weather looked in the morning, and proceed from there. Waking up to a light mist falling outside, we knew the race was on.
Day prior, worried about the coming weather
Fortunately, the rain held off until the last few final miles. As we approached the Coney Island boardwalk, the misting rain shifted into a heavy downpour, causing adversity for an already weighted test of will. My shoes had been the only dry part of my body, but with puddles gathering all around us, this swiftly changed. My feet became so bulky to lift in the last mile, but in the end, crossing the finish line felt so much more impactful.
No, my iPod didn’t accompany me on this journey (the battery would have quickly died). While I used to run with music, someone much wiser (and more well trained than myself), said to attempt running without it, as you should be in tune with your body, and listening to what your body needs. Because of this imparted wisdom, I would like to think my mind has become stronger, in regards to increasing self motivation & curbing doubt during runs. But who knows, it’s pretty much anecdotal. Plus, most of the time my mind is a jukebox at any given moment, so ‘queueing’ up a running song is a fairly simple feat.
Even with the music playing in my head, over 13 miles, there was plenty of time for feelings and thoughts and revelations to cross my mind. Here are some of them:
- Even the most physical fit looking people have awful cardio & endurance. Sometimes looks are purely superficial.
- Everyone is running for something… Or running away from something.
- Having people who care for you cheer you on makes a HUGE difference in motivation, confidence, etc
- It’s not a race, even against yourself.
- You’ll expend a lot of energy weaving in and out of the crowd
- There’s so much love and positive energy floating about, it’s contagious and strengthening.
- Those weird goo packs taste pretty damn good by mile 8.
- Running part of the course prior (in addition to living next to Prospect Park) helps immensely with comfort-ability & ease.
- Long stretches of nothing felt (specifically down Ocean Parkway) = long stretches of boredom. In the future, this is definitely where I would like to improve with self motivation, but more so, having friends & family along these parts as a boost of energy!
- Ukrainians are still the best motivators. Kept a close eye out for supporters during the race, and right around mile 11, there was a beautiful cluster of them on the east side. I roared “Slava Ukraini!” and they burst in excitement. Gave me such a boost of energy & adrenaline.
- For some people, this is more than just a race. It’s a fight, whether physical or emotional.
- Shout out to volunteers, seriously.
- Running down Ocean Parkway in the direct sun, no shade, would have been brutal. Plus, the cold and rain kept body system regulation easier, I would like to believe.
- It’s 80 - 90% mental.
- Running in the rain is refreshing until your shoes are completely soaked.
- Afterwards, people are unified in congratulatory circumstances, which is fun. While the journey back home to Park Slope was a nightmare due to subway work, random strangers sparked conversation and congratulated us! How nice.
- Without attempting to flex, I didn’t feel as exhausted as a lot of people afterwards… Which, I learned, is me not pushing myself hard enough. Next time.
- I didn’t run into Craig Finn. Bummer.
And lastly:
- Strangers cheering on strangers is a glance around the other side of this seemingly desperate and forcibly isolating period of our political landscape. Hope. It’s hope. There’s courage in it all.
Would I run a half marathon again? Definitely. That specific one? Maybe. The course was fun until the novelty of running on the highway wore off. While you could finally ‘spread your wings’ as the space surrounding you opened up, allowing for more free flowing movement, damn did the run become a bit monotonous. A focus tight focus on pacing through Brooklyn streets would be a notch up, in my book. The last few miles proved my thrill in running comes from the necessity for a constantly changing environment, rather than running circles on a track.
So sweaty at Mile 6
Who did I run for? Myself, mainly, to know I could. But within my mind, so many others kept me stimulated and motivated. Conjuring up memories & thoughts of them, they helped push/guide me forward along my 13 mile trek. Thank you to all of you, even though you may never know what you helped me accomplish.
Even though running a half marathon was never a dream of mine, I’m tremendously proud of myself for completing it. The runner’s ‘high’ from finishing is still coursing through my system, and keeping me motivated as the days move away from the official race. Maybe, this is the same feeling people talk about after accomplishing a big goal. I’ll savor it for now, as elusive as the feeling may become in the future.
Until next time,
Cornelius
PS: While compiling/writing this post, I enjoyed the companionship of the Hungarian mult-instrumentalist Àbáse (more specifically his album, Laroyê), this article on how urban beekeeping can be detrimental to wild pollinators, and the word ‘refulgence (a radiant or shining quality or state).