I ran the New York City marathon on Sunday, my sixth marathon and third in New York. It was a bitch. I trained my butt off over the last four months with the goal of breaking 3:20 and I was on pace to do so until mile 19, when my stomach, and then my mind, betrayed me.
If you care to know the details of what went wrong, I’ll tell you in person, but it’s not that interesting: my stomach started to hurt a lot and I couldn’t get any nutrition in. When I realized that I wasn’t going to hit my goal, I started to cry. I walked for a minute, sat on the curb for two, then got up and powered through.
My four-year-old nephew has a vivid imagination that makes him very particular about how the ideas he dreams up should be executed—his Halloween costume, his birthday present, the Lego structure he wants you to build. For Halloween this year, he was a knight. I’m sure he thought that meant wearing an actual suit of armor, but instead, my sister made him a knight’s costume out of aluminum dryer vents. Obviously, he cried.
My marathon experience reminds me of his grand visions. I had visualized the race every day in the weeks leading up to it, particularly that stretch of Fifth Avenue around miles 22 and 23. I was going to cruise down it at a 7:25 pace, then get into the park and book it to a 3:18 finish. I built it up in my head to a point where it was too fragile to be challenged, and maybe in the end, it was unrealistic, like a four-year-old wearing a suit of armor for Halloween. I remember walking down Fifth Avenue, snot-crying and feeling like all the work I put in was for nothing. What’s the point of finishing if I’m not going to meet my goal? Then I told myself I was being a big baby and if I started running again, I could break 3:30, a time that I would’ve been very proud of two years ago.
I’ve been thinking that maybe I take this hobby of mine too seriously. Running has no impact on my livelihood. But for some reason, this hobby that pains and upsets me brings me so much joy. A subject for a later newsletter.
Anyway guys, enough emotions. If you’re wondering where I scored a striped, baggy shirt that’s breathable and quick-drying, it’s Lululemon. I bought it on my way to Fairway a month ago when I was in a mood, and the only thing that would remedy it was a new striped, baggy shirt. It isn’t designed for running but it works for me. My shorts are Oiselle and they have a TON of pockets, which is why I bought them. I’m not sure I’ll wear them for another race because my uniquely bloated stomach couldn’t handle its waistband. Super comfortable regardless. My sneakers are Nike Vaporflys and my bra is this one from Outdoor Voices, the first sports bra I’ve worn that doesn’t chafe on long runs. I started the race wearing a SPIBelt but gave it to my sisters at mile 21. I wrote a longer review of the best running belts a few weeks ago; read it here.
That’s all I’ve got for you. Do you take any of your hobbies maybe a little too seriously? Love to hear from fellow hobbyists.
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