So tomorrow is the NYC Marathon.  I am completely unprepared.  Ever since the VT100, I’ve become fat and out of shape.  I fell apart back in August and I have not recovered.  I am definitely in the let’s get fat and out of shape mode.  It happens to me every 6 or 7 years.

About the only running I’ve been doing has been the weekly www.hashnyc.com runs.  This allows me to combine my love of running and my love of drinking beer into a single event.  I have my friend Jess to blame for making me come to such events.

As I write this post I am wondering if anyone else can hear this ringing in my ears.  Damn is it loud.  Maybe that is why I am awake in the middle of the night, either that or I just can’t sleep because of sleep apnea. 

This will be my 6^th NYC Marathon and my 5^th in a row.  I can’t even consider dropping out of it.  I want to get a streak going like my friend @aristorat.  This will be his 27^th in a row.  I have a long, long way to go if I am going to catch up to him.

I bought a new toy at the marathon expo.  I got a Polar RS800CX.  It has GPS capability, so I can finally create a map and visually see everywhere I’ve run.  It was very expensive and I felt guilty buying it, but maybe with it I’ll be inspired to go out and do some long wandering runs and get back into it.  I am already excited to wear it for the marathon; if only I could figure out how to use it.  I am a technology guy, but I sure do hate the learning curve that comes with figuring out something new.  I am just too impatient for that.  I wish I could just get the Vulcan Mind Meld and have the knowledge pushed into my brain or perhaps have the program uploaded like they do in the Matrix.

I don’t blog much anymore because I don’t feel like it.  I don’t feel much of anything other than a dull sense of unhappiness.  I don’t feel like running and when I do it hurts.  I don’t want to get on my bike and I definitely don’t want to go to the pool.  My weight is starting to skyrocket and I am helpless to control myself from eating all of the time.  I should at least cut out the carbs and snack on something else.

I am completely sick of the way I am feeling.  This is not the way it should be.  If I could at least run pain free, run until I am so tired I couldn’t take another step I think things would be better.  However, I am afraid to even go out the door for fear of getting a mile from home and completely falling apart.  I hate that long walk back home after a failed running attempt.

This past Saturday, I convinced @aristorat to wait until the afternoon to go for a run.  As we went out he lamented how he had to wait for me, since by the time we went it was piss pouring rain.  I got about a mile with him and had to stop.  My leg hurt and I had absolutely nothing in me.  I left him to limp my way back home.  Actually, I didn’t even limp home as I exited Prospect Park and saw a yellow cab at the corner.  I saw it as a sign from G-d that I wasn’t meant to run today and just took it home.  If that wasn’t a sign, then perhaps I am just becoming supremely lazy and accepting the temptation of Satan.  Maybe that’s my problem, I’ve become possessed by a nasty demon.  Does anyone know an Exorcist?

Not to go off topic, but I saw the Exorcist when I was 9 years old, during a time when I spent many hours alone in my aunt’s secluded house in the middle of suburbia. Yah, my parents had ample discretion in what they would allow me to see.

On Sunday I did manage to squeak out a 7 mile run with my daughter accompanying me on her bike.  Let’s just say it was supremely slow.  I would have liked to have gone longer, but time didn’t permit that and truth is, I would have been walking very soon anyway. 

My goal from this point forward is to just make it through the NYC Marathon.  After that, I think I will do nothing.  I think both my mind and body is asking me to just chill out for a while.  I can’t force this anymore as it is just not working.  Everyone tells me I should just keep going, but I feel like a dog with an electric collar that zaps him every time he gets to an invisible line.  Eventually he learns not to do that anymore.

Today I did the ING NYC Marathon Tune-Up.  An 18 mile run done over 3 loops of a cool and very rainy Central Park.  This was a do or die race for me in that if I could not complete this race, then I would seriously question whether or not I would do the upcoming NYC Marathon.  I feared for the worst for my performance, but hoped for the best.

I started the race by running from the Lexington Avenue subway to Central Park.  The trains didn’t cooperate this morning, so I was left with only 8 minutes to make it about a mile to the start of the race and to store my bag in the baggage area.  My heart rate was already racing as I dropped off my bag and caught up with the field of runners who already started the race before I got to the start.  I felt physically ok for the first few miles, but mentally I was somewhere else. 

My mental state started to go bad, when I saw it took me ten minutes to complete the first mile.  I couldn’t believe I was running so slowly.  It didn’t feel slow, but my Polar HR monitor doesn’t lie.  If I was only doing 10 mm now, I could imagine how slow I would be going later on.  I wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the race.

To keep my going I thought of the reasons why I should be running.  I thought of my children and the example I am setting by pursuing fitness and taking on challenging events.  I thought how I can’t let myself get fat and out of shape again.  I remembered how good running felt only a short time ago.  I knew these were all good reasons and they kept me going.  However, these thoughts did not make it any easier.

I felt good briefly at about the 8.75 mile mark.  I thought perhaps the malaise I am feeling was finally lifting.  The feeling of it lifting lasted for about a mile.  Perhaps I was going downhill at the time.  This malaise is killing me.  I wish there was a pill I could take; like an antibiotic to get rid of an infection.  I keep running hoping for it to lift but it won’t go away.

As I completed my second lap I saw the lead runners heading towards the finish.  It’s been a few years, but I remember well when I used to be among the top of the field crossing the line with the speedsters.  This back of the pack stuff takes a stronger grit than does running a race all out.  I have a new appreciation for all those runners who finish towards the end of a race.  It takes guts to stick it out when you know that most of the field has already finished the race.

I got through the third and final lap by chasing various rabbits.  I would see a nice looking sight ahead of me and see how long I could keep on the tail.  This worked for about half of the lap.  At this point I found myself running alone again and felt a desperate need to walk.  I saw a runner who was walking though and I encouraged her to run, by shouting out “There’s no walking in running”.  She managed to get a trot going and kept me company for about half a mile.  At this point I started to pull away until there was only about 1.75 miles left.  This time it was me who was walking when the runner I had just encouraged caught up to me and got me to run again.  By now the 17 mile mark was coming up and I felt an adrenaline surge to make it to the finish line.  As I miraculously got a decent pace going, I encouraged other runners who were walking to pick it up again.  I would shout out how the time for walking is done, it’s time to run it home.

A couple of runners started running again at my suggestion and one of them caught up to me and thanked me for the encouragement.  I struggled to keep a strong pace, but managed to get myself across the finish line.  I crossed the line completely drenched, exhausted and sore.  I was disgusted with myself at how slow I was.  I said to no one in particular that I am old, slow and decrepit.  Someone heard this and told me that I that I just ran 18 miles and that I am “Bad Ass” for it.  I wish I felt the same way, but all I could think about was how this distance used to be nothing but a warm up. 

I suppose I am being too hard on myself.  However, being hard on myself is how I get myself to do bigger and better things.  I just have to not be so hard on myself that I give up trying.

So I was out with my friend @aristorat this past Thursday to check out the Double Windsor, a new bar that opened up in our neighborhood.  We were just hanging out and having a few rounds of beer when we ran into a neighbor of @aristorat’s and her friend.  C and J both lived near us and were also runners.  We got to talking and to make a long story short, I talked J into running the Queens Half Marathon with me.  This pretty much sealed the deal for me as to whether I would run it or not, because up until this point I wasn’t sure I was going to go.

Come Friday morning however, J sent me an email saying how she woke up feeling kind of sick and that she thought it would be better if she skipped the race.  Not wanting to lose a running companion for the race, I replied that there was no changing minds in the light of day and that I was going to get her race number and T-Shirt regardless and was going to be outside her house and 5:30am Sunday morning, so she better get it in her mind that she was running the race.

With that information she decided to do the race, but vowed to hold me personally responsible should she wind up in the hospital with pneumonia.  I decided to take that risk as I thought the chances were pretty small so I got her race packet and picked her up this morning for the race.  Her friend C came with us to cheer us on.

We went out in a nice comfortable pace, around 9:45’s per mile.  The original place was to run slower than that, but we were both comfortable where we were.  I haven’t done the Queens Half in several years and I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it was no longer a two loop course.  I had many turns and rolling hills and went through several very nice neighborhoods.

It was disconcerting to see how much fitness I’ve lost since the VT100.  My heart rate averaged 86% of my max over the course of the entire race and I only ran a 10 minute mile pace.  I need to seriously get back into my training if I am going to get ready for the NYC Marathon and JFK 50 miler.  Really though, I just need to start running regularly again.  Hopefully the Queens Half is the start.  J belongs to a hashing club and told me about a hash run tomorrow night.  I might just show up for it and combine my love of running with drinking beer.  Yes, that sounds like a plan. 

See J’s take on the race here.

I am suffering from a deep, deep malaise.  I feel like I am in the abyss and no amount of oxygen will be enough for me to swim to the top.  I can’t seem to get my head above water.  It is a deep funk that I am in.  A perverse Funky Town from which no one can return.After the Vermont 100 miler I had high hopes for the rest of the year.  I didn’t get very far though.  I did the NYC Triathlon in pretty good form and then had two successive weekends where I did a 14 mile run with a 1 mile swim mixed in, but since that time I’ve been completely dead.  I am not sure what happened.  One weekend I was running and then the next day I could not get my legs to turn over at all.  It is a major struggle to make it one loop around Prospect Park.  I’ve already decided to bail out of the SOS Triathlon on September 13 as I don’t see any point in making the trip for a major endurance event if I can’t even run 4 miles.

I need something to jump start me again.  I am seriously getting out of shape and overweight.  I can’t control what I am eating.  I’ve been drinking too much and not giving a rat’s ass if I don’t get in a workout.  I don’t like how I feel, but mentally I am not ready to start moving.

This summer has been one of my worst.  Nothing bad has happened, but nothing good or exciting happened either.  It was just one work day after another and for the first time in years I didn’t take a summer vacation.  I think that is part of my problem.  I haven’t been on vacation in a while and I think that has definitely taken a toll on my mental psyche.  I am bored, uninspired and not excited about anything that I am doing.  Usually running will help with my mood, but something is physically wrong with me.  I just can’t get my legs to turnover.  Yes, I have a couple of nagging injuries in my left groin/hip flexor and right hamstring, but nothing so irritating that would account for why I just can’t get my legs to move.

Yeah, yeah, I did go to Vermont to run the 100 miler, but I didn’t finish it and I wound up returning to work a day earlier than I planned.  Perhaps if I finished the race and took the extra day off things would have been different mentally for me.  Maybe I would have felt like I accomplished something and returned to work relaxed.  However, that still can’t explain why I am not able to run right now.

I don’t even know what type of doctor I should go to.  My problem feels physical, but perhaps it is mental.  I just don’t know.  I am not in the mood, nor can I afford, to see a dozen specialists to find out what is wrong with me.  Maybe electroshock therapy.  That sort of sounds kind of cool.

Something has got to give.  I can’t keep thinking this way.  It’s not healthy.  I seek inspiration.  My problems are small compared to others, but we each have to overcome our own obstacles.  What might be easy for one person may be difficult for another.  Perhaps this is a start.  I haven’t felt like writing in a while, but perhaps posting this here is the beginning of the end of the funk.  Or perhaps it is just the end of the beginning.  Only time will tell.  I have 2 months to get ready for the NYC Marathon and the JFK 50 Miler.  I can’t skip them this year.  This will be my 5 year in a row doing the NYC Marathon.  I can’t let something like a little malaise stop me.

I don’t even know where to begin to describe this outing.  I say outing, because it was more than just a race, it was an adventure.  It was one of the most fun events I’ve ever done even though I wound up dropping out of the race 67 miles into the run.  I will say that I have learned a new respect for hills.  I’ve never encountered anything like this since I started running back in 2002. The scary part about that fact is that I am told as far as 100 milers go, the VT100 is relatively flat; that if you can describe over 14,000 feet of elevation gain over the course of 100 miles to be flat.

Most participants have a crew or what is also known as a handler for the race.  This is someone who drives around to various aid stations to give you whatever supplies you need during the course of the run.  This includes food, drink, changes of clothes, sneakers, lights, etc.  My crew and handler consisted of my wife who I must say did an outstanding job.  She was very anxious about driving all over unfamiliar roads and finding the various aid stations, especially at night.  She is a city gal and not used to driving on country roads and doesn’t have a good sense of direction.  However, she really pulled through and met me everywhere I needed her to be.  In fact, we had decided on us meeting at only 3 aid stations, but she met me at all except the first one which was very early in the race.  She said she did this because I wasn’t looking so good as my mileage got up past 50 and she felt bad for me.  Whatever her reasons for continuing to meet me, I was very happy.  I needed the change of shoes, socks and another application of Body Glide for my feet at each aid station.

The run began at 4am in the morning while it is still dark outside.  I set off with a few hundred other runners into the dark of night, keeping my headlamp trained onto the ground.  I didn’t know anyone in the race, but had conversations with one runner and then another as the paces of everyone sorted out.  I ran with first timers and veterans alike and kept an 11-12 minute mile pace for the first few miles.  Eventually, the sun began to rise and I was able to turn off my headlamp.  The early morning darkness gave me a taste for what was to come later on.

Some people think of running as a boring activity.  I suppose that could be the case if you just run in the same place all the time or don’t vary your terrain.  I never got bored or disinterested during the run.  I was usually concentrating too hard to make it up the next hill (aka mountain) or concentrating on not losing my footing as I ran down a long hill.  The steep ups and downs really challenged your legs and I could feel it in my hamstrings during the uphills and my quads as I struggled to maintain control on the downhills.

There is one aid station called 10 Bears that you run into twice.  The first time is at the start of a 20 mile loop, after running 50 miles.  At this point I decided to ditch the Camelbak that I was wearing since the weight was really becoming a drag and the feel of it across my abdomen was starting to bother me.  This turned out to be a mistake.  While the aid stations weren’t so far apart, the time to get to them wasn’t so quick as the terrain was very hilly.  I found myself getting dehydrated and wishing I had taken it with me.  Luckily at about this time I started to run with a 72 year old runner names Carston.  He had several water bottles with him and was kind enough to let me drink from one of his.  We ran together for about 8 miles, when we finally reached an aid station and I told him to go on while I recovered.  I was very grateful to him and stayed at the aid station for over 10 minutes as I took down fluids and refueled on PB&J.

After about 60 miles, I knew I was going to have some trouble finishing the run.  My pace was slowing down badly and the hills were no less relentless.   I ran into one of the aid stations where my wife was meeting me and she made me get checked out by the medical people even though I was feeling ok, just tired.  The medical person asked me a few questions and then sent me on my way.  I was feeling about how one was supposed to feel after running 60 miles of relentless hills.

By now it was starting to get dark.  I delayed putting my headlamp on until the light would really do something beyond which the natural daylight was able to provide.  Eventually it became pitch black and all I had to illuminate my way was my light’s beam.  It was getting onto 11pm at night and I was reduced to a very slow walk.  My mile splits were reduced to 21 and the 25 minutes.  I started to do the calculations in my head and knew at this rate I would eventually be pulled off the course for not being able to make a cut off.  I was now around 66 miles into the course and I decided that if I saw someone who could give me a ride to the next aid station I would take it.  I saw no point in spending the next 90 minutes wandering in the dark just to make it 3 more miles.  At about the 67^th mile a family on ATVs approached me from the opposite direction.  They stopped to let me pass and I asked them if they could give me a ride back to 10 Bears, which was the next aid station.

They were kind enough to do so.  When I arrived the medical people came over to me and walked me over to the med tent.  They got me off my feet, gave me a blanket and some hot soup.  It felt real good to be resting, but my pride was also stinging over the fact that I dropped out of the race.  I knew I made the right decision, but that didn’t make me feel any better.  My wife arrived a few minutes after I did and she came over to see how I was.  I felt fine but knew I had enough.

— It is now a few weeks since the race and I still haven’t finished this race account.  I am just going to post what I have written so far or else I’ll never do so.  My desire to do next year’s VT100 is as strong as ever.  In fact, I need to keep myself from beginning to train for it now.  I am very excited about doing it again.

 I didn’t expect much from myself in this year’s Eagleman.  I had practically no training except for a decent running base and only a handful of bike rides.  I hadn’t swum since a 2000 yard session back in December 2008 and was worried about even being able to complete the 1.2 mile Half Iron swim distance.In fact, I wasn’t even planning on doing this year’s race.  I told my friends Todd and Rob who I made plans to do that race with this year that I was out was out about two months ago when I was out of work.  I was fat, out of shape and didn’t want to spend the money on the trip.  However, Rob and Todd told me to come down anyway and that they would cover expenses.  I couldn’t say no and set about trying to get at least some training in.

My training consisted of 9 biking sessions over a 2 month period totaling 268 miles with the longest ride being 43 miles.  My running was ok at a total of 250 miles for the same period with the longest run being 17 miles.  As I mentioned, I did absolutely no swimming and refused to even take a stroke until the gun went off to start the race; there was no point in over training at this point.

I took it really easy on the swim and just concentrated on keeping my stroke steady.  As slow as I was I still felt like I got bumped around a lot and was surprised at how many other swimmers were around me.  Either I was swimming a lot better than I thought I would or there are a lot of slow swimmers.  I would stop on occasion to take a brief rest and to site.  I was in no rush.  Putting that fact aside, I still came out of the water in 43 minutes which is only about 7 minutes slower than my fastest time.  It just goes to show that swimming is overrated in a triathlon.  I think back to all the time I spent swim training in previous years and all it amounted to was a 7 minute difference.

I got out of the water in good shape and took my time through T1.  I wasn’t going fast, but I wasn’t going slow either.  I got on the bike without any problems and headed out for the ride.  Pleasantly, there was a tail wind for the first half of the bike.  This turned into a headwind during the second half and became quite demoralizing at times.  I think I was crawling at around 13 mph at one point.  For some reason while riding I was overcome with the urge to pee several times.  Usually during a race I would just piss down my leg, but as I was in no hurry I stopped on the side of the road at least 3 times to take a piss.  I felt like I had the world’s smallest bladder.  The stops to pee and the lack of bike training had a more noticeable time on my bike split.  I came into T2 after riding for 3 hours.  This was about 30 minutes slower than I usually do at this race.

I took my time again in T2.  I debated grabbing my cell phone to tweet along the way, but I decided against it.  It was a good decision to leave it behind.  I had a very good run and I wouldn’t have stopped to type in some less than witty comment for the twitterverse.  I ran negative splits for the entire half marathon.  At about the 8 mile mark I caught up to the 2^nd place male Clydesdale.  We started to talk and kick it in together.  A couple of miles out from the finish there were some college kids out on a front lawn drinking beer and encouraging athletes to jump into their Slip and Slide.  The guy I was running with said we should do it and after some coaxing we both dove head first into some cool and refreshing water.  It felt good, but I tweaked my shoulder a bit when I came down too hard on my arm.  I’ll have to practice my head first slides again.

Soon after the Slip and Slid I realized that I was very close to breaking 6 hours.  I started to increase my pace and decided to give it my all to break that mark.  It was too little too late though as I couldn’t make up for the lost time peeing and I came in at 6:02:45.  I was pleased with my time though and very happy that I finished the race.  It was the first “big” triathlon that I’ve done since my DNF at IMLP 2 years earlier.  It felt good to know that I still had a big race effort in me.

All in all I had a really good trip.  I was very glad I went and had a real good time with my friends Todd and Rob.  It was good to get away with just a couple of guys after all the drama for the past few months in my life.  I was reminded what it felt like to be a Triathlete again and the feeling of accomplishment after completing a big race.

So as many of my friends, family and colleagues have known for the past couple of months I’ve been taking a course to become a certified Project Management Professional or PMP.  It was a two month long course which was held every Monday and Thursday evening and lasted for 3+ hours per class.  Having not taken a serious class in quite some time I did find it a struggle to get my mind wrapped around the material, especially the parts that required straight out memorization.  I would scream and curse at myself every time I started to lose focus while studying the material or couldn’t remember a simple list of terms.  I began to seriously doubt that my mind was functioning above anything greater than a life supporting subsistence level. 

During the time of the class, my training routine took a serious nose dive.  The two nights per week completely eliminated any chance to work out on those days and on the other nights; I was consumed by studying and preparing the homework for the next class.  Also add to the fact that my good friend and training partner @aristorat was no longer able to train with me due to the illness of his wife. 

Somehow though I made it through the course and started to catch on to the ways of a PMP as the course progressed.  However, I was still not at all confident that I would pass the certification exam.  Once the course was over, I knew I still had a lot of work to do if I wanted to pass it.  I had originally set the test date to be on my birthday (May 7), but knew early in the week that I was not ready.  Fortunately, I was able to reschedule the exam to the following week.  In fact, I first rescheduled it for May 11 and then changed it again to the 12^th.  The temptation was to keep on postponing the test, but that would just serve to make me stew over it for a longer period of time. 

As I was going, all I was doing was studying for the exam to the neglect of my children and job search.  I was simply focused on studying, eating, drinking, sleeping with the occasional run or bike ride with @aristorat.  I was consumed with passing this test and failure was not an option.  I hesitate to think about how I would have felt and what I would have done, had I not passed the exam.

By the time Monday the 11^th rolled around I was a complete wreck.  I spoke to one of the students from my class that told me she passed it and asked her opinion on it.  She told me that there were a lot of questions on the exam pertaining to information that required straight out memorization.  If that was the case, I was seriously fucked.  I decided at that point that the best course of action was to just let the cards for where they may.  I took a sleeping pill, and went to bed early so I could forget about fretting over the exam.  I woke up the next morning reasonably refreshed and committed to memory some last minute things I knew I would need for the exam.

I got to the testing center with plenty of time to spare and they let me begin my exam early.  Before I was allowed into the exam room, I had to completely empty my pockets and lock up anything, but the bare minimum of clothing required.  I had the feel they would have preferred I got completely undressed and perhaps wore a hospital gown so there could be no possibility of cheating,

The time limit for the exam was 4 hours.  It took me 3:53, which left me only a few minutes to go over the questions I marked for review.  I barely made it through any of these questions before my time was up.  Before they told you the results of the exam, the infernal computer made you answer a survey about the facility and other items.  I couldn’t stand it.  I just wanted to know if I passed or failed.  Finally after the survey, the computer started to do its calculations and after a minute or so when the screen went blank and I thought the darn thing crashed did the computer come back with a result.  I had passed.  I sat there for about 5 minutes in total relief before I was able to move.

The first thing I did once I collected my belongings from the locker was to tweet to the world that I had passed.  I then practically floated home from the exam center while calls from friends started to come in to ask how I did.

Later that night I went out for drinks with my friends Chris and @aristorat to celebrate.  We drank a lot and ate a lot and I blew off a lot of steam that had been building up for the past few weeks.  I was really glad it was finally over with a successful conclusion.

Common wisdom holds that running has a cathartic effect.  It’s supposed to free your mind, at least temporarily, from the daily pressures of life.  I don’t know if that has really worked for me over the past couple of months.  In fact, my pressures and worries often come out when I run.  You can hear me yelling to myself every time a negative thought passes through my brain. I guess part of the problem is that I haven’t run regularly.  You need to do it on a regular basis in order for the running itself to feel good.  Maybe I just need to start running so long that by the time I am done every negative thought held in my brain passes out of my mouth, being left in the gutter behind me.

I wish there was a dial installed on the body that would allow you to better regulate the amount of depression or anxiety you feel.  If you ever needed to get it adjusted, it would just be a matter of going down to your local service center and tell them that you are feeling a bit too depressed and have them manually crank the setting down.  It is like the chemical inside your body that causes you to feel depressed knows of only two positions; off and full blast.  It would be nice if you could objectively look at two people and quantify how much depression they should feel; say on a scale of 1 – 10.  Then the person’s level could be set accordingly.  However, that is not how it works.  I think that a person who circumstances warrant a level 5 situational depression feels just as bad as a person with a level 10 situational depression.  It doesn’t matter that one situation isn’t nearly as bad as another, both people feel just as bad.

One thing that has helped keep me going has been my runs with @Aristorat.  He has been going through his own trials and tribulations with the illness of his wife and my friend Kathleen, so we haven’t gotten out as regularly as we had just over a short month ago.  @Aristorat gets out when he can and usually gives me a call to join him.  As I am out of work right now, we have managed to go out for several runs during times when I’ve never had a chance to run before.  It has helped to add structure to my day and has given me a chance to unload some of what I have been going through to another person. 

Right now I need to focus on moving forward and not getting stuck.  I know the things I have to do and I have to push myself to do them.  I am finding it difficult, but I do not have a choice.  No one ever said that life was going to be easy.  Hopefully, once I get going again, life will become like those days when you run effortlessly and can just go on forever.

So today’s plan to run the Bronx Half Marathon and then run back home to Brooklyn didn’t work out so well.   I was really looking forward to this run for several reasons; it would give me another qualifier for next year’s NYC Marathon, I’d get a really cool and interesting run it and I would hopefully finally get in all 5 of the NYRR Half Marathons run in the boroughs of NYC.

My plan was to run the BHM with a fellow member of my triathlon club, who answered an email I had posted looking for a running partner to do the BHM and then run back into Manhattan. I really didn’t want to run all of that distance by myself (about 35 planned miles) so I was very happy for a response. I exchanged cell numbers with M and we arranged to meet the morning of the race.

We started out the race and a nice and easy pace, but at about two miles into the event, M started to slow down and needed to stop.  She started to develop chest pains and needed to sit down.  She refused medical care and said that she just needed to rest for a while.  It took about 10 minutes or so, but after that she seemed ok and wanted to go on.  By now we were very back of the pack and saw the leader of the race coming back the opposite direction on the course.  We then continued on for another mile or so when M started to slow down again.  The pace became just a fast walk for me and I wasn’t sure what I should do.  I didn’t want to leave her to run a faster pace, but I couldn’t run this slowly for long.

Turns out that she was developing chest pains again and this time she wanted an ambulance.  I flagged down a police officer who called in an ambulance for us.  The ambulance took her to the hospital and I got a lift back to the baggage check location by the police officer so I could get M’s jacket which contained her identification, money and cell phone.  She didn’t know anyone’s number without her phone so I couldn’t give them a head’s up as to what was going on until I went to retrieve it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know what her jacket looked like.  In fact, I thought I was looking for a backpack and not a jacket.  I got a couple of volunteers and we started to look for her jacket (which I didn’t know what it looked like), among 5000 other bags.  The only clue as to the location of the bag was based on the last number of her race number. There were numbers from 1 – 10 and you were supposed to put your belongings based on the last number of your bib.  Again unfortunately, she placed her bag (jacket) based on the first number of her bib, so I was on a wild goose chase for a while.  Eventually I found it and I ran with it to the hospital where and found her resting in the ER.

Once we had her phone, I called her sister to tell her what happened.  I was hoping she would take charge and come to the hospital right away, but it sounded like I was inconveniencing her.  I would leave the ER every 20 minutes or so to give her an update and each time I did M’s sister and her mother were no closer to leaving for the hospital than when I first called.

Eventually it got to be around noon and I had to leave.  I still wanted to run and my internal clock for running was expiring at 3pm.  I left as M was being taken for X-rays and began my long run back to Brooklyn.  I felt bad about leaving.  I felt like I should have stayed but I had commitments in the afternoon.  I was feeling really guilty when I left, but I couldn’t figure out what my obligation was to someone I had just met.

To be honest, I wasn’t really in the mood to run at this point.  I felt like I should have stayed with M and all the standing around all morning kind of took my desire away to run.  I really just wanted to be home to play with my children in the warm weather.  However, I knew I needed to run, so I just decided to keep going and see how far I could get before it was time to bail out and take the subway home.  I managed to get from 210^th Street and Gun Hill Road in the Bronx to 96^th and Lexington before I finally called it a day – a run of 8.3 miles, plus a little over 4 from the start of the BHM for a total of 12 miles on the day.

Once I got home it was time for errands.  I took my son to a birthday party, picked him up later, picked up my father’s urn from the funeral home, made dinner for my kids, took out the trash and cleaned up the house.  I stopped short of doing laundry as I just wanted to kick back and relax for a while.  Now I am going to post this entry and think about what type of run I’ll do next week.

P.S.  M called a little while ago and says she is doing ok.  They checked her into the hospital for observation, but she is resting comfortably and is with her family.