A Bang and a Whimper

Hello again, Marathon Fans.

Well, I never thought it would happen, but I got the urge to run another marathon.  5 years after the inception of this little blog, here I go again!  I'm registered for the Hamptons Marathon in September.

The idea to torture myself through what I now know to be a grueling training process and demonic effort of physical exertion transpired from a culmination of realizations.  The most sobering realization is the fact that I am turning 30 this year.  I realize this may not seem like a big deal to many, but I see it as the next chapter of life adventures.  I also realize that I may have been considered a runner in years past, and while I may have completed one (and a half) marathons to date, I cannot bear the thought of entering my 30s as a "former runner."  Actually, I realized just now I can't bear the thought of ending my 20s without some sort of immodest feat to mark the occasion, either.  The past decade has been very kind to me: no major health complications to speak of, worldwide travel, some major physical accomplishments, and a terminal degree under the belt.  So, I'm looking forward to starting the next decade of greatness with a bang.

Oddly enough, the training today began with a whimper.


Having moved out of the International House (affectionately termed IHOP by my relatives) after a 3-year stint of cultural entrenchment, I find myself a minority living uptown in a primarily Dominican-populated building overlooking most of Harlem. I'm learning new languages daily, and how to maintain peace with your bachata-music-at-all-hours neighbors. Not much has changed, really.


Heading down the stairs at 5pm today, and side-stepping the abuelito who usually resides there in the evenings, I looked skyward to see the impending summer thunderstorm.  I took a brief pause and considered going back upstairs to grab a rain jacket, but I knew that if I turned around, I'd lose momentum for the run.  Here it was, my first training run, my resolve to do this whole crazy thing again coursing strong through my veins, and I knew that I must not let the loud booming of thunder deter me.  With a grimace and said whimper, I turned on my stopwatch and headed out.  I hopped along for about 10 feet before the clouds opened up and started pouring down buckets of rain onto my non-rain-proof clothes.  I had 30 seconds on the clock and I was already soaked through.  Well, I thought, I can just chalk this up to the first test of my mettle.  So there I went, trailing down my neighborhood streets into the nearby park, passing all the gente huddling under awnings and doorways, watching the crazy lady running wide out in the thick of it.  In retrospect, it was kind of nice to have the usually-crowded New York streets cleared out by the downpour - I had the road all to myself, I didn't have to slow down or say 'excuse me' to the ambling Sunday pedestrians, and I could run in any which direction I chose.

21 minutes and 36 seconds later, after trotting up the heart-attack inducing hill that is W. 138th Street, I stopped my workout.  And there, standing on the corner, checking my pulse, the rain dissipated.  Just like that.  Coincidence?  The 20 minute time-frame I chose for my first training run was a literal thunderstorm.  It might be too much to say it, but I got the whole dang thing started with a bang after all.