This past Saturday I ran the Hamptons Half Marathon for the second year in a row with TNT. This year I raised more money, which was sweet. But this year I ran the damn thing 12 minutes slower than last year, which was not sweet.
Going into the weekend, the forecast according to Accuweather went like this: Shitty with an increasing chance of shitty at the start of race. It wasn’t just that it was going to rain, it was that it was going to be warm for a race — 70 degrees or so — and likely humid.
Well, we lucked out on the rain.
But that was about the extent the weather gods gave into us. Temperature was in the upper 60s to lower 70s and humidity was stuck at or near 10,567%. Now, I know folks in Louisiana are likely laughing at me, saying that that’s practically Christmas weather, to which I say: You go run 13 miles in that.
In the end, it might as well have rained. I’m not what you’d call the heaviest sweater in the world, but by the end of the second mile, I was soaked through.
And there were hills this year! I’m sure they were there last year, but I sure as hell didn’t notice them. It’s amazing what 60 degrees and no humidity did to my perception–and my race time–last year. (I guess I should apologize to fellow TNTers for claiming there were no hills.)
Of course, blaming weather and hills is silly. Last year I trained harder. Earlier this year for the Brooklyn Half, I also trained harder. Indeed, with the exception of the clouds I’d say the weather for the Brooklyn Half was similar. And while the humidity may have eased up in the second half, the hills in the Brooklyn Half are much worse.
At any rate, I finished without passing out or crapping my pants–which for a fleeting moment between miles 8 and 9, I thought might become an actual issue.
And after getting back to the hotel in Montauk I crossed the street and walked into the icy waters of the Atlantic, hoping the cold would head off extreme soreness. It didn’t, but it was a nice post-race ritual anyway.
Oh, and thanks to Coaches Jim and Amy for running with me toward the end. And even bigger thanks to Coach Radie for running with me what felt like miles out to the turnaround. I’m sure I was my usual high-spirited, chipper self.