Race Recap: The Dreaded Mile Test on Fifth Avenue
4/30/20
The mile test was the bane of my existence in middle school. I dreaded it more than any other Phys. Ed. unit we ever had to complete. Our teacher told us we had to finish it in under 12 minutes, and back then I had no concept of how fast a person should be able to walk that distance let alone give it an all-out effort. This was in the dinosaur era; no cell phones, no tracking devices with satellites, and no way of knowing if you’re putting in the correct amount of effort on a timed test. The test gave me so much anxiety that my heart rate was through the roof the entire day leading up to it.
In my oversized soccer t-shirt and baggy gym shorts, I sprinted the 4 laps around in 9 minutes, sweating through my clothes and fogging up my ugly early-2000s round wire-rimmed glasses in the process. I gasped for breath as if I was some old man having a heart attack, and it did not feel good to feel that hammering in my chest. The combined anxiety and effort had me exhausted the entire rest of the day and I felt terrible. Even though I technically passed the test, I was still so far behind my classmates and athletic crush at the time and I felt so embarrassed. There are people much older than me that could handle running farther distances in the Olympics, so a young and spry girl should be able to handle just one mile.
Fast forward a little less than two decades later, I signed up for the NYRR New Balance 5th Avenue Mile at a chance for redemption. I wanted to test out my best mile and get that PR, officially. The good thing was that I knew I could beat 9 minutes because that is the marathon pace I needed for November for my goal. But what am I truly capable of?
On September 8, 2019, I drank Nuun first thing in the morning and headed to Central Park to jog a bit before the race. I had a minor dilemma; my program called for a 12-mile tempo run, but because I wanted to put my full effort into the race I didn’t know if I’d even get that mileage in. So my plan was to slowly run 6 miles from the southernmost part of the park to where I had to line up for the mile.
At around 7:30 in the morning it was 63 degrees, mostly sunny, 72% humidity, and barely any wind so it was going to be the perfect race day. I took my time heading north up the Harlem Hills and chewing on the Black Cherry caffeinated Cliff Blocks along the way. I was feeling really good in my light green fitted Nike tank top and Constantly Varied Gear cosmo leggings. I was at the lightest weight I’ve been during my training season for this run, and I looked lean and mean and ready to go the speed of light to a galaxy far far away.
When I got to the start area, I had just enough time to use the bathroom and watch about 3 corrals start before I had to get into mine. This race was set up differently and lined us up not by average 10k pace time, but by age group. The good part of this was that, in theory, there would be less of a clump of people since we’d all run different paces as 30-something women instead of people of all ages running as one trampling herd to find a pocket to run in. I was in the F30-34 age group, and the announcer told us to try to line up based on how fast you think you’d go. In my mind, I’d rather not be stuck behind the woman who looks like her knees were about to break and lose time trying to get around her, so I shimmied my way toward the front of the corral. Unlike the smaller American Cancer Society race, I didn’t go to the very first row. There were many of those skinny gazelles with the official-looking “runderwear” and former track athletes with admirable glutes and hamstrings that I let take the front row, knowing they’d lead the pack immediately.
The course was straight-forward; north to south on 5th Avenue on a mostly flat surface with a slight incline toward the end just to surprise you. I wasn’t going to have to worry about any major hills and because it was just a mile, I was allowed to let myself run firing all cylinders.
My MapMyRun was loading a little bit slower than I wanted, and I debated when to hit start on it knowing that I wanted to get 6 minutes without distraction. I figured if I recorded it, awesome, if not then at least I’d get my official time from NYRR anyway. While waiting in the corral, I got so jittery and jogged in place while squashed in like a sardine. I made a playlist specifically for this race so that I’d have something to push me and as an audible cue so I’d know how much longer I needed to sprint. Some of the fast songs that I used in other races were tried and true, so I was also confident I would be able to speed up on cue.
About 200 meters ahead of the starting line was the “time truck” as I’d like to call it (a pickup truck with a giant digital clock on display). It’s the same type of thing you see when the elites run, but us common folk never get to experience it since we’re always so far back. Every age group got to have the time available for viewing, so I was psyched to use that as motivation.
I switched from “Starships” and set up “Bellacoso” on my phone, turning it up really loud at the one minute warning. The gun went off, and the pack jetted off. I felt the adrenaline pump through my veins and I felt like I had entered the Pamplona Running of the Bulls rather than a fun road race. Within two seconds I decided that MapMyRun wouldn’t be accurate so I shoved my phone in my pocket to avoid dropping it during the stampede of millennial women.
My eyes lasered in on the time truck, reeling me in like a fisherman’s catch of the day as I leaned forward and pumped my arms in sync with my Road Runner wheel of legs flailing behind me. I was running as fast as the gazelles and track stars for the opening downhill quarter mile, then they seemed to zoom ahead of me.
There was a great crowd turnout cheering on the runners, but everything was a blur as I got tunnel vision. My feet felt like they were barely grazing the ground and I felt like I could run on water like the little lizards I saw in a Costa Rican rainforest. My hamstrings and glutes were springing me forward without a hitch. My core kept my body erect and stable as I breathed evenly through my nose, holding my breath for a count or two just like in my swimming days to get a few more strides in before the next inhalation. The slight uphill in the second quarter mile was something you wouldn’t feel while riding in a cab, but quite a surprise with your own two feet.
There was no way I was going to look behind me to see where I was compared to others in my heat, but I could tell that there was a decent gap between the gazelles and track stars ahead of me, my little unofficial competitive group around me, and the rest of the pack. I had just enough ladies ahead of me and next to me to choose who I wanted to defeat in this race and push me to go faster. I stayed in the center but hung mostly to the Central Park side of the road to prevent weaving and saw photographers up ahead. This race was too fast to even attempt a smile, so I kept my game face on hoping I’d get a good race pic out of it, especially since I felt my full ChiRunning as I went along.
I felt myself slow down a bit around ¾ mile mark and had to mentally stick with it. The finish line was in sight, but felt so far away. I reflexively gulped air with my mouth a few times and my internal coaching monologue was fighting for my victory. The gazelles already passed the finish line 30 seconds ago, and I hustled to try to get that 6-minute finish. Both anxiety and minor defeat hit me as the clock went from 5:59 to 6:00 and I still had a dash to go. I was running on empty, not giving up on my effort until a couple meters after the finish line.
My lungs felt like a stretched balloon about to burst as I walked to the fluid stand, and though it was an all-out effort, I recovered very quickly. I refreshed the NYRR results page a few times as I collected my victory bagel and funneled away from the race and back toward the park. I didn’t beat my goal of 6 minutes, but I was so close and still so damn happy. I knew that if there wasn’t that sneaky incline, I would have had it. I officially clocked in at 6:14, placing 74/831 of F30-34, and 2,379/9,276 overall. There were ONLY 73 ladies ahead of me, and I was in the top 100 of my heat. Me...the one who used to feel like cardiac arrest was imminent in middle school...shaved nearly 3 minutes off my time.
I was so excited and had nowhere to be on this beautiful day that instead of eating my bagel then and there, I held onto it as I took a celebratory victory run through the park and down Central Park West for an additional 8 miles before hopping on the subway to head home. As I ate my salty bagel on the train (in retrospect, that is pretty gross but I was starving by then), I reflected on my amazing day, and it was barely past noon. I not only PR’d my mile, but also logged 15 total miles for my training for the day at my average marathon pace. The confidence boost came at a much needed time and I couldn’t wait to crush the rest of my Speedy September races.
GAME FACE ON 💪Victorious 6:14 PR on my mile