It was a long road to get here. I thought I’d attempt 13.1 miles last year, but a leg injury kept me out of my running shoes for too long before the race; I didn’t feel confident or prepared, and I feared hurting myself even further. So this year I made sure I was ready, running speed drills on weekdays and progressively longer runs every weekend leading up to the half-marathon, then slowly tapering and letting my muscles heal starting two weeks before. And last weekend I did it, in 2 hours and 20 minutes—10 minutes faster than the goal time that Todd and I had set for ourselves.
In terms of running standards, it wasn’t very fast, averaging out to about 10 minutes and 48 seconds per mile. We started the first mile some distance down the block from Prospect Park. The weather was 58 degrees or so but it felt humid, with a little sun peeking through the clouds. I didn’t mind; I was just glad it wasn’t raining. Our corral, number 20 out of 22, inched forward, then finally the countdown began and we were off. Todd and I started out slow, about 12 minutes per mile for Miles 1 and 2. My parents ran, too, and they hovered just ahead of us for the first half of the race.
The first two miles felt easy, no huge hills or major descents. We ran comfortably; I listened to some low-key songs on Spotify, like “As We Ran” by the National Parks and “The Wolf” by Mumford and Sons. By Mile 3 we reached the Brooklyn Museum, and spent the next two miles traveling alongside the park. Todd and I chatted a bit and observed the other runners around us. I really liked a shirt than one older man was wearing: “I have fought the good fight,” it said, quoting from 2 Timothy 4:7 in the Bible, “I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
The start of Mile 5 turned us onto Ocean Parkway, which had been closed to traffic for the half-marathon. As we ran, we saw runners from earlier waves already making their way back up the parkway, passing the Mile 9 mark and getting ready to head into Prospect Park. Around Mile 6, I started to feel it. My knee hurt a bit; I was getting bored with the monotonous scenery and the knowledge that, as far down as we traveled, we would still have to come all the way back. I counted down: If that’s the Mile 8 sign across the road, it means we have another mile down this way, then another mile back up until I get to that point. To distract myself, I changed up my running stance, first skipping sideways for a few steps, then busting out a few high knees.
Mile 7: We looped around and headed back up toward Prospect Park. Around Mile 8 we caught up to my parents and passed them, then Todd broke away from me because he wanted to run faster. By this point I was running about 11-minute miles. It was hard but not too hard, and I knew I still had energy left. At Mile 9 we ascended a steep hill that left me breathless at the top, but when I tried to walk for a minute, my legs wobbled like jelly so I kept running instead.
We entered the park at Mile 10 and I sped up, running the next 2 miles in around 20 minutes. I kept an eye out for Todd and just after Mile 12, I spotted him walking. I ran up beside him—he looked at me incredulously, like he couldn’t believe I’d caught up—and then I pushed on ahead. He followed, and we ran the last mile together as fast as we could. We crossed the finish line holding hands. (Here’s a picture, but I have to link to it because I don’t want to pay $25 for a download.)
After the half-marathon, we received really awesome finisher medals and some free water and snacks. And then I got a good, hot latte from one of my favorite hipster coffee shops, followed by a celebratory meal at Shake Shack later that afternoon. This morning I signed up for my next race, a 7.5-mile scenic run in November, but I’m still looking for another half-marathon where I can try to beat my new PR.