A 22 Mile Tour of the World

This morning’s run went about as well as any 22 miler could go. Of course there were a few minor issues (how can there not be when you’re running for almost three hours?), but all in all, it was just about perfect.

I ran alone today. It was the first long run I’d done by myself in a while and I was worried about pacing. Turns out those fears were unwarranted. I held myself to a very easy 7:39 pace (including stoplights), which left me feeling strong at the end. I felt like I could have tacked on a few extra miles with no trouble if I had to.

Of course, I was happy to stop. I feel completely destroyed right now. But, it’s a good kind of a destroyed. It’s like the phoenix burning, but knowing that he’s going to come back stronger because of it. I’m following a strict schedule of re-introducing proteins and carbs into my system and then I’m going to nap a few hours before my football game this afternoon.

That game was part of the reason I started the run at 5:30 AM — I wanted the extra recovery time afterwards before going out and playing football. It’s a casual league, but still.

Actually, I almost ended up running even earlier because I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I was so nervous about today’s run, I just couldn’t force myself to ever drift off into more than a light doze. Very annoying. Is there any way to solve this? I didn’t want to take any sleeping pills or anything because then I’d be groggy for the run.

But, there was another reason for starting early — New York City is at it’s finest in the hour just before dawn. I love being out on the streets and seeing the figurative baton of the new day being passed on from the last of the partiers and night workers to us early birds.

I wish I could explain to you all the different things that I experienced on my run this morning, but I don’t have the words for it. I’m normally not a sentimental guy, but this run was just something special.

I started running west across 116th Street from right out in front of my house. The first people I saw were two (very) drunk girls getting out of a cab and giggling. I ran past the bodegas and underneath the Mexican flags and waved at a few locals who I recognized. Gradually, El Barrio shifted into Harlem and I was in the midst of beautiful old buildings and monstrously ugly new ones. As I ran pasted a group of Jamaicans sitting on their stoop, one yelled out, Look at the white mon. He be runnin’. I waved and they waved back.

And then there was a mountain in front of me: Morningside Park. I ran up the stairs (about nine or ten flights) and then looked back behind me at the view of 116th. Beautiful. On top of the hill, I found myself in yet another world: Columbia University. I was very glad the security guard let me in, because it’s one of the favorite parts of my route. I hadn’t even considered that it would be closed being that I was up so early… Today, it was even quieter and nicer than normal. The full moon hung over the lawn and created an amazing snapshot.

After leaving the university, I headed uptown along a bridge hanging way up above the highway below. There were huge, bright billboards right next to me and I felt like I was running through the future or something. I doubled back at 135th Street and headed down to the Upper West Side.

I cut down to the water around 90th Street and was greeted with a horrible stench. It seriously smelled like a sewer, I almost gagged. But what was bizarre was how incredible the view was at the same time. The moon was reflecting over the river, a barge chugged lazily along, New Jersey’s hills were in the background. It was strange that such a contrast between the senses could exist.

Luckily, the smell went away after about a mile and a half. Unfortunately, much of the good scenery did too. The parks on my left were replaced with the industrial, run-down sights of Hell’s Kitchen and the sky was lightening up in anticipation of sunrise, making the views over the river a little less remarkable.

It was here that I started having some serious digestive issues too. This really concerns me — I was so careful to eat properly yesterday and this morning, but still an hour into the run I had no choice but to stop and use the bathroom. It was a very quick stop at Chelsea Piers. There was a bum in the stall next to me doing god knows what and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. My stomach was still feeling queezy when I got out, so I elected not to get a Gatorade from the vending machine. This was probably a mistake.

I kept going for a couple miles with no problem, but by the time I got down to Battery Park, I was definitely feeling the effects of having no easy calories available to burn. I ran past the condo where I spent the summer with my family as a kid and I suddenly got very emotional. I always do a little bit down there; the area always reminds me a lot of my family, plus there’s the conspicuous absence of the WTC Towers, and then seeing the Statue of Liberty and war memorials. All together, it’s just a lot to deal with, especially an hour-and-a-half into a run on an empty stomach…

I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and accidentally took a short cut, so I ran out to the end of Pier A and back to make up for it. I think that may have actually been longer than what I was supposed to do, but oh well.

Finally, I reached the Staten Island Ferry Building and was able to get some Gatorade and a Clif Bar. The stop lasted about four minutes and then I was back on the east side. Getting started again was really tough to do, but about a half mile afterwards, I hit my stride and started running well.

I drifted through the South Street Seaport thinking how nice it was that all the tourists weren’t out yet and then caught sight of the Brooklyn Bridge looming up ahead. The Financial District turned into Chinatown and there were swarms of old Chinese folks doing their exercises along the river. One or two smiled, but most seemed not to even notice that I was there.

Running past the Lower East Side, I switched into auto-pilot and really stopped paying attention to what was around me. I was just running and it felt so good — it was like I could keep going forever. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot… I took inventory of how everything was working. Made notes on my form, tried to improve little things, to conserve energy. My thoughts wandered.

Then, all of the sudden, I turned a corner and the whole midtown skyline was smack in front of me. 34th Street… 5 miles to go. I knew that the next couple miles were the most dangerous of the run and tried to be as alert as possible. Getting thrown into the chaos of city traffic with the slowed reflexes that 17 miles of running will bring is a recipe for disaster, but I was careful and avoided collisions (and even avoided near-collisions today.)

Past the U.N., right on 53rd, up along Sutton Place, got caught in a long light to cross 62nd, Wow, that’s killing my pace, Hurry up, Ooh, past that van, I can go, Right on 63rd?, Oh crap, I missed my turn, back to 62nd, Left across the bridge, I’m back to the East River finally, Less than 3 miles to go, This is the home stretch.

I felt my body slowing a lot during mile 19, but I fought it and got to the stairs at 82nd Street still running strong. As soon as I got to the top of them, I was back on my home turf. I’ve run those last two miles hundreds of times and know them so well that it’s as if nothing bad could ever happen to me there. With the end in sight (literally), I got a big second wind and actually picked up the pace considerably. Those last two miles were definitely the fastest of the whole run. It’s such a great feeling to finish these long runs back here in East Harlem. I love going out and seeing the rest of the city, but it just feels so good to end up back at home.

So, final numbers: 22 miles in 2 hours, 48 minutes, 26 seconds. Plus 2 stops, 4 minutes each. Not bad at all. In fact, it’s right were I want to be for these long, slow training runs. If only they were all this good….