But first, a midnight freak out. What to wear to the race? The weather was predicted to be 30-32, overcast, with little to no wind. I've been running for more than a decade, but all of a sudden my mind went blank. I know my cut-off for shorts is ~40 degrees, but what happens below that? That's freezing! I should be wearing pants. And a jacket. And a long sleeved shirt. And a buff. And gloves. And an ear cover. And... and... and... Runner's World's Dress the Runner site wasn't helping at all. I realized: it was anxiety! Good old fashioned race anxiety!
|There has never, ever been a good picture|
of me in running clothes.
|These two women, on the other hand, are lovely.|
How did the race itself go? A few things:
- I hate Central Park. Seriously. I'm bored of it, and the hills are okay in training and sucky in races. My splits were uneven - go figure, the slower splits corresponded with the miles with the worst hills.
- A 15k is 9.3m, not 9.6m. I don't need to tell you this, because you know this. So do I. However, at about mile 8, shortly after I'd given up on any time goal, I realized that my addled mind had decided that the race was 9.6m. This was annoying, because...
- I came amazingly, painfully, desperately close to a sub-10 minute mile. My official finish was 1:34:01, for a 10:06 average. I could easily have taken a minute off my time by not walking Cat Hill th second time around.
|OMG was the race actually 9.42m?? Call the USATF!|