Day 90: My Super Sweet 16

Feeling uncharacteristically buoyant after the success of the 7th Annual Summer Hope Benefit, I decided it was time to make it out for my long(est) run Sunday morning. In days passed, the afterglow of Summer Hope would have kept me feeling a sense of entitlement that would've stretched well into my marathon training. "I don't need to run, because I hosted a successful cancer benefit 48 hours ago." I realize that one has nothing to do with the other, but as a sociopath-in-training I usually ignore such obvious logic.


This was different, however. I felt positively buoyant after the benefit this year, and wanted that feeling to continue. Announcing my candidacy for the 2009 NYC Marathon to 225 people at my foundation's annual soiree like Howard Dean on a bad mushroom trip didn't hurt as far as motivation either. It was time to put everyone's money where my mouth had been. It was time to run.

I had a lot, mentally, riding on this 16-miler. It had been a couple of weeks since I successfully ran the 14-miles around Eisenhower Park. I did begin to feel as though this 16 miles being a real marker for my marathon success. I know it seems crazy, but I honestly felt that if I could get through 16 miles in one shot without combusting emotionally and physically, I could run that last ten on pure grit and determination. I would be the scrappy country singer of the NYC Marathon. Beaten, but never down. You can easily replace "scrappy country singer" with "scrappy player too small for the team", "scrappy single mother in the big city" or "scrappy journalist on the search for answers", if any of those better suit your analogy.

Regardless, I headed back to Eisenhower Park, which had treated me quite well the previous week. I would do 5 three mile loops with 5 .25 jaunts to and from my strategically placed car to rehydrate everything from my muscles to my nipples (thank you, Aquafor!).

The run went surprisingly well. I was feeling good and hitting my stride at a reasonable pace. I had even been able to ward off the leers of the "crazy gay people" who my mother is convinced troll the various park public rest rooms, waiting for a fine young thing like me to attack. Whether this is true or not, it is fairly typical of my mother to read something outlandish and out of the realm of day to day activity, fictional or otherwise, and be convinced that it was inevitable. Back before cell phones, she was convinced that I would use a pay phone and stick my finger in a change slot, only be pricked by an infected AIDS syringe. Since the advent of the internet and e-mail, she has resigned herself to sending the occasional forward warning, calmly begging me to please read so I don't mistakenly give my life savings to a sultan from Guyan.

I was also pleased with the routine I had gotten myself into, involving body and nipple hydration, as well, as enjoying a nice Gu energy capsule. It seemed as though, I might have this thing figured out. The run around the park is boring, but it did seem likely that if i could manage literally running myself in circles, the excitement of running from Staten Island to Central Park would probably keep my mind from wandering to the inevitable "WTF was I thinking?"

Even more pleasing was my time: 11:10 minutes per mile - it was by far my fastest long-run time, and closing the gap just a little between myself and that speed demon, Heathaaaa. It was also interesting to think, that even though this took me over 3 hours, it would only be another 2 hours until I was completely finished with the entire marathon. Now, of course, that is a ridiculous amount of time to spend running, but I did feel a surge of pride in the realization, that it wasn't completely ridiculous to me. I wasn't happy about it, but somewhere between the complaining and the hard work, I became, gulp, a runner. A slow, reluctant, surly runner, but a runner none the less.

The Breakdown of the Day:

The Workout:

16 miles / 3 hours 6 minutes / 11:10 minutes per mile (!!!)

The Picture:

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