Race Recap: Running Faster Than Rush Hour Traffic

6/11/2019

I was trying to make myself get into the racing mindset early on, so I signed up for two 10ks within the same week. I was a little worried that it might be overboard, but when I compared it to what my training schedule would be like over the summer and saw that 6 mile runs were the “short” training runs, I knew I had to kick it into high gear.

The American Cancer Society’s George Washington Bridge Challenge was on Sunday, June 2, 2019. I was really excited for this one because I thought it was unique to be able to run on a cars-only bridge notorious for its traffic jams during NYC rush hour. I also try to make a point of purposely doing things that scare me, and I do have a slight fear of heights.

That morning I felt pretty well-rested, I had an easy traffic-free uber ride to the Port Authority’s office area right before the bridge entrance, plenty of time to warm up and use the bathroom a few times, and I sized up my competition. The majority of the crowd was there for the 5k run and walk portion, so after they cleared out, there was a smaller pool of people running the 10k heat. It looked like there were a lot of average people (i.e. not Olympic athletes) for this charity run, so I decided to line up toward the front of the start line so I wouldn’t be stuck behind selfie-taking joggers. 

The buzzer went off and I bolted ahead. I had a “Fuego Latino” mix playing in my ears from Amazon Prime and let the beats carry me forward. There were two men who darted way ahead of me and were clearly aiming to win this thing, and one short chubby guy stayed on pace with me for at least the first mile before he jetted ahead.

I felt light on my feet, fast, but speeding ahead almost effortlessly. I didn’t turn my head to check, but I was pretty sure that I felt no human presence in the near distance behind me. I was so alone on the bridge it felt like I was doing something illegal and that the cops would catch me at any moment. I was recording the mileage and pace using MapMyRun, and to my surprise, I heard it say that my first mile was 6 minutes and 43 seconds. That seemed almost impossible since I’d never broken 7 minutes in a single mile time trial, let alone a race where I need to keep running afterward. I was still the only female up front, and I felt determined to stay that way.

The course started on the New Jersey side and went east on the eastbound lanes for about a mile and a half, then you took a U-turn and crossed over and headed west on the westbound lanes. On the Jersey side you take some sort of police-only U-turn exit to head east on the westbound lanes. As I headed that way, I started seeing the other runners so much farther behind me. I got a lot of unexpected cheers from these people that I didn’t know, just because I was the first female at that point in the race. I wanted to win more than anything then.

On the curve where I had to switch to the eastbound lanes again, a group of three women passed me and it crushed my soul. I felt myself physically slow down from the onset of fatigue and the realization that these girls would make me no longer in the running for top female overall. I hoped that they were in their twenties so that at least I could have my glory as the 30-year-old winner.

The second half of the race felt brutal. I knew I went too fast in the beginning and was starting to gas out a little bit. The exit ramp was really short, but steep, and it felt rough on the cardio. My heart was rattling around in my chest and I was trying to squash any doubt. The morning’s humidity and fog made me sweat exorbitantly and I was so thirsty.

After the water station, it was a downhill slope for about a half mile and I was able to pick up some speed (and friction in my shoes that would eventually give me blisters). I reached the path where I did part of a half marathon a few years before and figured I must be close, until I saw where the bridge was in relation to the finish line area at Ross Dock. My music decided to stop working conveniently at the hilliest and most pollinated area of the park, so I had to hear myself struggle to breathe on the last mile or so of the race. I know I was huffing and puffing because the 5k walkers ahead of me turned to go look at the source of the dying runner. They cheered me on anyway when I just wanted to be done at that point. When I reached the steep downhill portion with the finish line in sight, I couldn’t wait to cross it and catch my breath. When I did, I had to take a moment with my hands on my knees before even thinking about wrestling the 5k joggers over post-race bagels that I needed more than they did. 

I was so happy to grab water. A guy came up and told me I was his pacer; that I just had to be in sight to know he was pacing properly and he complimented me on my downhill sprint since most people slow themselves down on the downhill. We chatted a bit about training and races in general and parted ways. I think I had 2 or 3 bagels and just felt famished.

I went to look at the printed results and saw that I got 3rd in my age group and felt so accomplished. The sheet also said I was 20th place overall, but the first place male finisher said that the results weren’t accurate; according to him, the women that passed me had skipped one length of the bridge. He said I should technically be higher up on the results. It was all very confusing, so even though I could have emailed the organizer, I just went with my results they gave me. My online results showed that I finished the 10k race in 0:47:49.1 (7:42 per mile), 23rd Overall, 8th Female, and 3rd place F30-39. 

I was so proud of myself for this race because of the fast start. I knew I had to learn how to pace myself for upcoming races so that I’d still have energy the rest of the day, but getting the medal for a smaller race was a much needed ego boost. The confidence helped me see that it’ll be mind over matter in completing the marathon distance in a few months. I spent the rest of the day off my feet and suffered a big case of restless legs when going to sleep that night after that performance.