Well that title sure left nothing to the imagination, huh?

The funny thing is, I almost didn’t run this race, the Read Write Run 5K. I woke up early on my own on race morning, Saturday June 16. My stomach was bothering me, as it had been for the last few days. I thought maybe I’d rather do Refine instead, and even went so far as to open the class schedule and begin the sign-up process to see if there was room in Brynn’s 8:30 am class. There was.

But on the other hand, I wanted to run a 5K race. The last official 5K I ran was my very first race in September, 2009! I always wanted to see how I race this distance, but New York Road Runners practically never offers this distance race in Manhattan, I think because there’s no good way logistically in Central Park to make it work. There actually is one this year in November, but it costs $45 and I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.

The other appeal of this particular 5K was the location — right in Liberty State Park, a really incredible place to run in Jersey City. Not only is the park HUGE (the first time I ran there I covered 4.5 in-park miles and when I checked my map after, I barely made a dent), but the views are beyond stunning. You stand on the very edge of New Jersey with views of Manhattan, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.

The weather was gorgeous and I decided to do the race. I knew I would regret it if I didn’t. And I wanted to try and finish in 25:00 — my goal time. 

The website said there was a bag watch, but because I didn’t know what exactly the situation would be like and how safe it was, I decided to leave my phone at home. That meant no camera to record the beautiful morning views and scenes of the park, but I didn’t want to be stuck running with my phone. At home it stayed. What also stayed home? My iPod Nano. During the Mini 10K the week before, my music felt loud and annoying. I decided to do this short race without any music. (And during my next run two days later, I had to take my music off less than halfway through because it was so distracting — more on this in a future post!)

[My Mini 10K photo. Annoying music pictured.]

All I had was $20 (which I lost at some point. RIP.) and my lip balm. I didn’t even need to bring my keys! I love living in a doorman building! And now that I just revealed this to the internet, I have this to say: Please don’t rob me.

Anyway, I jogged two miles to the race start. Whenever I run to actually get to a destination, the time flies because it doesn’t feel like  a real one. It’s just a way to get somewhere and mentally it’s like another experience.

Of course, I arrived way too early. That’s how I am. They had music playing, and I was happy to hear Counting Crows and Dave Matthews Band over the speakers — my two favorite bands, and two bands I am seeing live this summer. I took that to be a good sign. There was no line to pick up my bib and goody bag. I’m used to D-Tags or B-tags tracking my distance, but this race had a different system.

That raised foam thing in the top center tracked the time.

Bag check turned out to be safe and I slightly regretted my choice to not bring my phone. There was a man behind a desk handing out tickets to match the ticket you pin on your bag, and he returns it to you after the race. Even though I wanted to take pictures of just how gorgeous the park and the race route and the view was, I still knew I made the right choice because you never know. If bag check wasn’t secure, I’d have been stressed if I did bring my phone.

With time to kill, I went inside the ferry terminal and got to use a real bathroom. No portapotties at this race! I meandered back to the race scene, where more people arrived and were registering and getting their bibs. There was a lot more race day registration than I expected.

The purpose of the Read Write Run 5K was to raise money for the Ethical Community Charter School in Jersey City, so there were kids, families, activities for the kids and food for purchase before the race. After the race I didn’t stick around, but there was an entire days’ worth of activities going on.

Since I had so much time to kill, I decided to stretch and warm up. I found a spot, stretched my calves and hips, and did the first warm up exercise we do at Refine ReGroup: While standing, hug one knee into your chest, then stretch that leg back in a deadlift/Warrior 3, then swing that leg forward into a lunge and twist your body towards the leg, repeat on the other side, and then start over. This stretches your muscles, gets your core engaged and warms the muscles right up. Doing this in the park on my own before the race, I felt like I really knew what I was doing. Ha.

Finally, it was almost 9:30, the time the race was set to begin. While it was clear that we’d be running through a structure for the Finish line, there was no similar structure for the Start. There was only a sign, and I couldn’t figure out how our start time would be recorded. For my first 5K in 2009, they only timed the finish (which means I’ll never truly know my time, although it had to be a little faster than my result) and I hoped that wouldn’t be the case again here.

I chatted with some people and they asked me where my headband was from. I told them I bought it at Flywheel, and they said “Oh, OK because a friend of ours started a line of headbands that looks like like that. It’s called Sparkly Soul.”

“THAT’S WHAT THIS IS!” I said. How funny! They asked me my name and when I told them, they all started laughing. Apparently their friend who started Sparkly Soul is also named Dori. I had no idea, and I’ve even tweeted with them a bunch of times!

They made the announcement that the race was starting soon and we all got ready by the Start. I was a couple of feet back when they made the announcement to move forward — and I found myself on the Start line. As in, first. As in, in front of everyone else. I figured this would be the only time in my life I could start a race first, so I decided to stay there. Really exciting!

Someone sang the National Anthem while we all faced Ellis Island, since the closest flag was over there. I thought that was especially patriotic.

And then, after a false start, the man with the microphone said the real “GO!” We were off.

This is the path the race ran along. It was a straight out-and-back along the water, and this view faces where the finish line was.

Starting alongside the faster runners meant I ran much faster than I even realized. I started out feeling amazing but things got rough quickly. I finished that first mile in 6:53. Somehow.

I remember running the 5th Avenue Mile in September, 2009 (just a few weeks after that first 5K) and finished in 7:46, but felt like death the entire time since I was basically sprinting. After that race, with my chest hurting and ears throbbing, I had to leave without getting the free souvenir stainless steel water bottle and just find a bench to lie down on.

So, here’s more proof of improvement. A 6:53 mile after already running two miles, and still able to run four more after that (I ran the two miles back home after the race).

But of course, I don’t normally run this fast. I don’t think I even could without race adrenaline, and it was a little much for me. And without any music, I could hear my breathing and it wasn’t pretty.

I’d never raced without music before. I actually ran the Richmond Marathon without music. The difference between that race and this one was that I wasn’t racing the marathon. I was running it, at a comfortable pace, and my breathing reflected that.

But this was my first time racing without music. I never knew how labored my breathing sounds when I’m working hard (well, I had some idea based on those laps around the park at Refine ReGroup) but it’s jarring when you truly realize just how bad you sound. And how hard you are working.

I tried to ignore it, tried to breathe more normally and slowed down a bit. I wasn’t feeling great, but I knew I was getting close to the turnaround point because I could see it, and also because a few runners started coming back the other way.

The few quick glances down at my watch gave me times in the 8s, and I didn’t realize just how fast I was running. For some reason, my watch times seemed fast but not THAT fast.

The good thing about starting out with a 6:51 mile is that 8:30 doesn’t feel like so much work. That’s why I do tend to like starting out too fast, on purpose. Everything is relative for me when I run, and when I start out slower I have a hard time getting any faster. When I start out too fast, less-fast-but-still-fast paces feel like crawling.

There was a water station during the second mile and I grabbed a cup from a volunteer but had trouble drinking it because I was so flustered, so I ended up accidentally spilling it on my legs.

I slowed down significantly from the first to second mile, but I still finished that mile much faster than I ever run – 8:05!

As soon as the last mile started, my stomach started burning with pain. I mentioned earlier that I was having GI trouble during the days leading up to the race as well as on race morning, and it caught up with me here. I know that burning pain well, but there wasn’t anything I could do but keep running.

This last mile took forever, it felt so long! Even though I slowed down even more, I could tell I built in enough of a cushion that I could slow down and still finish in my goal time of 25:00.

It was discouraging facing the finish line, seeing the part of the park where the race ends, but being so far away from it! I pushed through, kept breathing, did my best. As I got closer to the end there were more people cheering. A little boy yelled out “GIRL POWER!” when he saw me, which made me smile and wave. I wonder if it was because of my pink shirt, or if he said that to all the women who ran by.

As I got to the finish, I was able to push a little harder. The people by the finish line seemed so happy for me that it made me smile (which I was not able to do at last week’s Mini 10K — my finish line video looked ROUGH) and throw my arms up as I finished the race.

My last mile was my slowest (positive splits FTW) but I know the final .1 was faster, around 7:46 according to the Nike+ software (the splits above only show full miles).

As soon as I stopped racing, I felt better. In fact, I felt AMAZING! I knew by my watch and the race clock that I beat my 25:00 goal. I practically skipped to the baggage pick-up and while I was there, a cute guy who finished in 23-something talked to me. THIS TYPE OF THING NEVER HAPPENED WHEN I WAS SINGLE. What the hell!

Once I had my stuff, I headed out for my two mile jog back home. It was surprisingly easy, even though the race was so hard. I even ran the first of those two in 8:57 but it didn’t feel that fast because, like I said, it is all relative with me.

I arrived home and began my obsessive refresh of the race results page.

And finally, that evening while we were at a party, I got my official results.

Official time: 24:27
Average pace: 7:53 

Second in my age group! Aaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!! (Update: I didn’t stick around after the race for the awards, but I won a MEDAL that I will be getting from the race organizer!)

Not only did I destroy my arbitrary-but-still-a-reach goal time of 25:00, but I came in second place in my age group! I know this was a small race with 291 finishers and 34 in my age group, but still! I also really like the fact that there is no way I could have come in first place, even if I pushed harder — so there are no “what ifs.” I ran my best race and I spent the majority of the time since then smiling and saying to Andy, “I came in second place!”

And that pace. Wow. I never thought I had a sub-9 race in me, much less a sub-8. I can’t believe how far I’ve come.

So, there was something in the results to account for people who started further back. Because I started at the Start line, my time wasn’t adjusted but I noticed that other people’s were — and I can’t figure out how that works. My number that says 1.0000 is the “Factor” and 0.9844 is the “Percent.”  Can anyone explain to me how the “Factor” works? How did they know where people started?

I am still really excited and really braggy about this race. I’ll probably reference it in every conversation I have, whether it fits or not. So, sorry to the people who have to talk to me.  And sorry to my brain, which I may have promised during this race to never run a race again because it is actually not fun after all. Turns out it is fun.

Ready for more.

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Now that I’m running a lot of the same races for the second or even third year, I realized I have to start adding the year in to my post titles. This year was my second time running the Women’s Mini 10K. The first time was in 2010 and it was my favorite race for a number of reasons: An astonishing PR, starting the race outside Central Park up Central Park West and the incredible vibe that can only come from this women’s only race.

When I signed up for this year’s, I had a PR in mind. I actually registered for three 10K races: the Scotland Run 10K, the Healthy Kidney 10K and the Women’s Mini 10K. My plan was to run the first two to get practice and for fun, train well and PR at the Mini.

But when do things ever go as planned?

Instead, I ran the Scotland Run in April and somehow busted out a PR (for the first time since the 2010 Women’s Mini!) of 53:55. I felt great almost the entire time and the PR felt pretty effortless. I didn’t train and in fact, I barely ran at all prior to this race.

But I did have a newfound speed. I didn’t know if I could PR AGAIN in June when this one seemed like such a fluke, but since I didn’t train for that PR I wanted to see what I can do when I do train.

However, that never did happen. Time got away from me, I went to Cancun, I started Refine ReGroup classes and somehow the Mini 10K was approaching and the training didn’t happen. I’m fine with that, but I knew I had to adjust my goals for this race accordingly. Especially since I just came off my first week of ReGroup with more soreness than I’ve experienced in awhile.

So I took my new plan to the Twitters.

And my friend Kai responded.

While Kai made some excellent points, it just wasn’t the right advice for me. I am all for racing for fun. In fact, most of my races have been “for fun.” For my first couple years of running, I raced because I love racing and my only real goal was to finish my races around, and later in just under, 10 minute miles.

Two out of my three “big” PRs were accidental. The 2011 Queens Half Marathon where for some reason I just felt amazing and ran fast, and the 2010 Women’s Mini 10K, where I just happened to be pissed off about a boy and ran fast. The only race where I was really aiming to PR was was the Race to Deliver in November, 2010. Very long time ago, and proof that when I really try to run hard I can. That race time became my bib time for NYRR seeding – 8:28/mile. That means I get to start my races in a corral with people around the same pace as that. Needless to say, I’d like to maintain or improve that bib time, especially now that I know I am a faster runner than I was then.

The other thing is that I seem to have an almost impossible time pushing myself on my regular, non-race runs. Just like when I race, when I run fast is when I’m not even trying. When I try, or have a goal like a tempo run, I struggle with pushing myself. It’s easier to give in and go slow when things hurt. Except during a race. Racing is the only time I can really push myself when I run. And if a race is my only time to try hard, don’t I owe it to myself to use those times to see what I can do?

So while Kai’s point would be valid for someone who always tries to PR and rarely runs for fun, someone who pushes herself during training runs (and, um, actually trains) and is used to PRing, it’s just not the right advice for me. Not right now, now that I have this newfound speed and want to see what I can do.

With that said, I went into this race wanting to PR but knowing it would be difficult. My stomach was acting up all week and my last run before the race, on Wednesday, was fraught with pain. My muscles were sore from my first two Refine ReGroup classes. And like I said, I did not train.

A PR would be possible, though highly unlikely. But I would try.

Before the race, I happened to be right next to Theodora in the corral. I was actually secretly hoping to run into either her or Fiona because I wanted to keep someone fast in my sight for pacing help, if I was to PR. But once the race started, my stomach started getting those random sharp pains all over and I knew I would just hurt myself if I tried to keep up. I ran that first mile strong though, although my thoughts of quitting started especially early in this race. Was I really considering dropping out during the first mile?

[Race was not, in fact, sunny]

Just to clarify, there are moments in every race where I consider quitting. I don’t know why. I never actually quit (except for the NYC Marathon).

But this race is special.

I love starting this race outside the park on Central Park West, where we run for about 1.5 miles. I love that this was the 40th anniversary of this women’s only race. I love that we saw Katherine Switzer and Jacqueline Dixon, who won the first Mini 10K speak. I loved that a women’s race meant I had a low bib number, in the 2000s, which means my corral was close to the Start line and to the stage.

I ran over the 5K mark at 27:00. Oh! That reminds me. A week earlier, I ran the 2012 American Heart Association Wall Street Run 3 mile race and came in at 25:57.Technically a PR, but I’m not really counting out for reasons I don’t understand. Well, maybe I do. The race was so crowded I could hardly move and know I could have done better. Wow, I am tough on myself. Anyway…
[This cool display thanks to the new Nike+ software. My last .2 (or .29 as the pretty accurate GPS gave) not showing because it only has ability to display stats on full miles. Would love to know if I booked it at all at the end.]You can see that the fourth mile was the hardest. Theodora actually ran that mile in 9:22 also — how funny is that! This is also the mile where I heard someone yell “Dori!” and Fiona, in an adorable colorful running skirt, bounced up to me looking amazing and chatting about her race. I tried to engage in her conversation, I really did. She told me about how she took a phone call during the race so it held her back (Lady, WHY are you answering calls during a race!) and asked me if I was trying to PR, to which I waved my hand in an “Asi, asi” manner. The thing is, I was trying. I thought my pace was much slower up until this point than it actually was, looking back at my splits. So when Fiona said she’d stick with me, I was excited. But then I tried answering her, talking to her, and I knew from the Queens Half and, um, from the NYC Marathon, that when I talk (or yell or sing) during a race, I get bad pains in my midsection.

And that happened here. It is my fault. I could have just motioned to Fiona that I couldn’t talk, but I really was excited to see her and run with her. Oh well. I split up from her when I realized almost too late that there was a water station on the right. I was not skipping those. So I motioned to her what I was doing and she ran off.

Even after talking a phone call, Fiona is still faster than me. She is amazing.

After that water station, I had my hardest moments of the race. While I was with Fiona, I was at an 8:25 pace since I was keeping up with her. It was hard for me at that point in the race, and after the water station those stomach pains began and I watched my pace fall to the 10s (10:03 to be exact, based on the image below). We were also going uphill on the east side and I just could not get back into my groove.

I did a good amount of beating myself up, and then I got to run down Cat Hill. That redeemed the worst of this mile for me and even though I couldn’t speed down the hill as fast as I would have liked (everything was just so hard) I definitely made up for some of it.

It was nice. You can see the elevation and pace changes, and it’s very fun to analyze.

I can click on any point in this graph and see my pace at any given point during the race. As you can see, my fastest pace was 7:35, my median was 8:39 and my slowest was 10:03. Considering all my races were ran at around 10:03, this is good. Very, very good.

At my last two 10K races — the Scotland Run and the Healthy Kidney 10K — I felt an overwhelming wave of nausea at the start of this last mile. And this race was no exception. I think it is a combination of my body reaching its limit + the horse poop smell, since that is the horse drawn carriage route. I didn’t know if I was on track to PR or not. I had my watch showing me my pace, but I never toggled to view my total time because I didn’t want to stress myself out.

This mile was my hardest, even worse than the fourth. I didn’t even realize I picked it up for the fifth mile. I was just trying to run. The last mile — usually one of my fastest in races if not THE fastest — was my second slowest here. I was just trying to make it to the end.

By the way, I did not smile for a single race photographer. I didn’t have it in me at any point during this race. I guess this is how that works when you’re actually trying really hard. I’m looking forward to getting those photos.

When I reached the 800 meters to go sign, I thought I was back on the west side of the park, where the race was ending. I booked it, only to realize I was not nearly as close to the finish as I thought. There were actually a few times during this race that I got confused about where in Central Park I was. It’s funny because I have run that loop so many times and know it very well, but this race just confused me.

Eventually I reached 400 meters to go. I realized then that I have no idea what meters are.

Passed mile 6 marker, and as always, was reminded by how far that last .2 feels in a marathon, in a 10K, on a regular run by my apartment.

200 meters to go, whatever that means.

And through the finish line, where I tried really hard not to throw up. I was scared, kids. I felt so nauseous, so sick and I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Luckily I managed to hold it in and I got my medal, my flower and a bagel. I was only able to take a small bite of the bagel, but after a few minutes of rest I felt 100% again.

As for my time . . . 54:56.

Average pace per mile: 8:51. 

This means I missed my 53:55 PR by one minute and one second. It also means I beat my 55:41 Healthy Kidney 10K time from last month. I beat my previous Mini 10K PR of 56:05 and in fact, I ran my second fastest 10K race ever!

It also means that I DO have another PR in me. I know I do. I came so close here, my ability run faster is (still) not a fluke — even though this race was much tougher than that Scotland Run PR.

And it means I look back and wonder if I could have pushed harder. Is there any point in the race I could have done better?

I guess we’ll see next month when I run the Boomer’s Cystic Fibrosis Run to Breathe 10K, which I signed up for as soon as I got home from this race. I’m thinking of doing this one without music.

This race proved to me that my PR attempts are worth it. I’m not injuring myself (once again towards the end of this race I thought about how thankful I am my old knee pain is gone) and I’m showing myself what I am capable of. I have now run three consecutive 10K races with an average pace of less than 9:00 miles. Last year, I never would have thought this is possible. I like pushing myself in races.

I’m excited to see what I do next.

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