In Central Park, where the runners are not hiding.....

My daughter, wife, and I decided to take a trip to New York City in mid-April to see a play with my sister and my nephew.  Here is a chance to run at one of the most iconic sites in, dare I say, all the world.  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Central Park.

My wife, daughter, and I boarded the train heading to Central Park.  After a few minutes of wondering if we got on the correct train, we arrive at the 86th Street Station on the west side of Central Park.  We depart to the street to find a glorious (at least for running) day.  My wife takes a few pictures for posterity, and off I go. 

I am figuring that my Garmin is going to take a few minutes to lock into the GPS signal, so I slowly adjust all of my electronics (because I certainly do not want to screw this up) and enter the park at W90th Street.  The first thing that I notice is the sheer amount of runners of every size, every age, and every level that are training in the park.  During my training runs, I am lucky to see three or four others, even on a long run.  I am secretly hoping I don't end up looking like a fool, but then I realize that I will probably never get a chance to do a Central Park run again.

My warm-up run starts on the Shuman Running Track, on the Northwest side of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Resoviour.  The track itself is not asphalt, but a kind of compact gravel surface that seems to be very easy on the feet.  I slowly transverse counterclockwise (because that is the way that the flow of running seems to be going) at about an 11:00 mile pace.  Hey, this is a warm-up. 

I am figuring that 1k for a warm-up should be good since I am planning to go about 10k.  I feel that I am getting the lay of the land pretty well, so I hit 1k at about the South Gate House, head down the stairs to the 86th St Transverse, and kill the run.  Among the many dog walkers and baby strollers, I see, to my great delight, a water fountain.  I immediately have horrifying flashbacks to the fountains on the East Bay Bike Path, which looked operable but produced no water.  Imagine my satisfaction when I push the button, and water comes out.  Happy, hydrated, and feeling warmed up, I begin my Central Park run.

My general plan is to lap the Resoviour, then step off the track and head in sort of a non-planned zig-zag pattern to Central Park North, then come back down the west side until I have completed 10k.  I hit the Shuman just about at the same place that I left and start my run, easing into a slow pace of about a 10:50 mile.  The scenery is breathtaking.

I am also amazed at the cacophony of different languages that I am hearing from my fellow runners.  It seems like everyone who is running with a partner and conversing is speaking a different language.  Quite a change from Southeastern Massachusetts.

I lap the Resoviour in a little less than 20 minutes.  At kilometer three, I step off of the running track and step onto either the Bridal Path or East Drive, I am not sure which.  There are a couple of noticeable differences.  The first and most apparent is that the surface has changed to asphalt.  The second is that, while the running track was only used by runners, this trail was used by bikers, skaters, and pedestrians.  No matter, plenty of space.  I continue north until the 97th Street Transverse, then go northeast on what I think is an unnamed path.  A little less than three miles sees me at 32:00.  Slow, but I am taking everything in. 

It is about here that I screw up.  My trip takes me through the Conservatory Garden. Very beautiful and exciting; however, it occurs to me about halfway through that this might not be the place to run through.  I increase the pace and escape undetected.  This leads me to the southeast side of the Harlem Meer, so I decide to lap it.  The track is reasonably broad but starts to narrow slightly as you round the pond.  I am surprised to see that, for long periods, I am the only one using this stretch of road.  Quite a difference from the beginning of my run.

When I lap the pond, I am just under four miles.  My pace has increased slightly, but still very slow overall.  It is at this time that I actually leave the park and do my running on Fifth Avenue.  I am getting beautiful views of the park while actually getting a real feel for what it's like to be a runner in a big city setting.  I take a left at the Duke Ellington Circle to Central Park North.  It seems like there are quite a few more locals here, taking advantage of park benches or just going about their day.  It is here that I get my first spectator encouragement; "way to go, lookin' good" comes from a man sitting at Central Park North and Lenox.  At this point, he could probably tell from looking at me that I needed a boost. 

I reenter the park at East Drive.  This is where things get hilly, something I did not at all expect.  While the elevation was not overly drastic, it was in spots very challenging.  I choose to stay on East Drive for a while, but in my desire to get back to West Drive, I get hopelessly lost and disoriented.  I take something of what looks like a shortcut only to find myself sidestepping large rocks and climbing up flights of stairs.  It turns out I went through something called The Ravine, not exactly something conducive to effecting running.  My pace at times turns into a laughable 12:30 mile, but I do manage to find my way to the 102nd Street Crossing, which leads me back to West Drive.  Five miles at 56 minutes, and I am feeling sore and fatigued.

West Drive is very wide and has specific markings for both runners and cyclists.  The elevation is still hovering, since I am now feeling tired, even the smallest of hills become a challenge.  I hit an hour at the 97th Street Transverse, then run one more mile down West Drive until calling it quits between Central Park West and The Lake.  6.5 miles took 1:12:39, a slow eleven-minute pace, but this was more about taking in the atmosphere than working on speed.  Mission accomplished.

I started to walk back to the Central Park Zoo, where I was going to meet my wife and daughter.  It was wonderful to take in everything in the park, whether it be the statues, the artists, the gentlemen making giant bubbles, or the various attractions at the park.  I can quite honestly say that was the most exciting cool down I have ever done.

Check one off the bucket list.

The Loop

We all have our favorite courses, that lay of the land that you know seemingly by heart, the one that you know the mileage, the curves, the cracks in the pavement, the traffic patterns, the chance that you will see other runners, and so on. The one that you have in your training arsenal that you can use anytime.  And most importantly, for this post, the one you know you are going to finish.  I do not have a fancy name for my course, I just call it "The Loop."

The Loop is basically a counterclockwise run encompassing four major roadways that broadly circle my street.  Depending on my exact track, starting point, and ending point, The Loop is about four miles or 6.4km.  I have set up two Strava segments on The Loop, one a 1.1-mile start to end on one of the streets, the other a short third of a mile jaunt up The Loop's steepest hill.  Explaining this course to my wife has become routine, instead of the street by street instructions I usually churn out I can now simply say "running The Loop," and my path becomes clear.

About six months ago, I had a day off from work and decided to try to take a Loop run.  While most of my running training had been on treadmills since my recovery, I did not think the loop was going to be cause for any kind of alarm.  I had completed a 10km run in Atlanta a week ago, and while my times were not exactly Olympic pace, I ended the activity with not too much discomfort.  The Atlanta run was also hotter and contained many more hills than The Loop.  So what could go wrong?

I started off with the usual warm-up run, about .8 miles through a nearby park.  It is about 1:45 in the afternoon; the thought passes through my mind that I do not usually run in the afternoon (for whatever reason), but it quickly exits my mind to be replaced by other sorts of useless concerns and metrics.  A few leg swings and side slides, and I am underway.

The segment that I referred to earlier starts about .3 miles into the run.  All along the way, I keep telling myself that time does not matter on this run, a slow segment might even be a good thing considering The Loop has not been attempted in about a year and a half.  The turn comes, the sector starts, the downhill is entered, and I start to ramp it up, albeit slightly, still telling myself to tone it down.  I also notice that traffic is much more substantial on this narrow road then when I usually tackle it in the morning.

There are three significant turns on this segment; the first is when the road finally flattens out.  My mind starts turning to final pace numbers and how this is going to look on my stats.  This should have been my first warning sign.  Call it superstition, or call it fatigue, but whenever I start to envision finishing way too early in a run, it usually does not end up well.  Today would be no exception.

My app tells me that I have reached the first-mile mark at 10:00 and that my heart rate was hovering at about 150 bpms.  One minute later, I pull up.  I am pretty much out of gas, and I have to make a decision about what to do now, continue walking and hope I can at least get in a workout, or abort and walk home.  I choose the latter.  Even though my running training is still in the opening stages, I find this to be kind of humiliating and, worse, mysterious.  Why did I bonk at such an early stage in the run when I completed a run 5 times longer only a week ago?

Six months pass, and my running sessions are sporadic, at best.  Strangely enough, this failed run seems to have spiraled me into a sort of fear of running outside.  Would every run end up like this?  Why did I fail, or maybe why didn't I know why I failed.  The next five months see my running activities always on the treadmill, with no regular rhythm.  Ordinarily, I don't mind the treadmill, but problems seem to happen when using it exclusively.

I documented my runs during our vacation to South Carolina, but still, that was the only outside running that I attempted.  My March vacation rolls around, and both my wife and I decide to get new shoes, followed by a test activity at a nearby park.  My wife tests her new shoes with a walk, I decided to take a five-mile run, which I complete with moderate difficulty.  Looks like it's time.....to try The Loop.

It is a sunny day, about forty degrees, a slight breeze out of the east.  A mile warmup run goes pretty much as planned, ending up in the aforementioned park for leg kicks and sidewinders.  Feeling more than a little apprehension, I start the run and proceed out of the park.  While I am telling myself to slow down, my pace is pretty good, or at least relatively fast at about a six-minute kilometer.  I hit a left, move down a hill, and at 1k am shocked to find a 5:59 split.  My heart rate is already in the mid 140s, so I figure I will have to either slow down soon or die.

2k is about where I bonked on the previous run, and interesting enough, it is where the first real hill is situated, so I slow down the pace.  I also pass the point where I gave up last time, so a minor victory is achieved.  The hill sees my pace slow, and my heart rate increase, but I make the left turn that I did not make before, so even though my heart is thinking that I am sprinting like a twenty-year-old, my head is feeling somewhat euphoric.

The next 2k go without much incident.  The course goes downhill very slightly, and I occupy a stretch in the road's bike lane, giving me plenty of room.  My pace is slower, but I am feeling like I am going to finish, which is the primary goal on this day.  A left puts me on Main Street and sees me staring down the barrel of Cemetary Hill.

Cemetery Hill is, without a doubt, the most challenging part of The Loop.  It is only about .3 miles, but the grade often reaches 6% and towards the end of the run no less.  Feeling confident that I have made it this far, I put my head down and start to work up the hill.  After almost four minutes and a heart rate that is rising as high as the hill, I am at the top and looking forward to wrapping the run up.  I take the side roads instead of taking Main Street straight, mostly to get a little downhill time.  This is the way I usually go, so I will also get some useful analytics as to comparing this run to others.

The last 1k is surprisingly uneventful.  The kids at the school on Main Street are at recess, and the screaming helps boost me on, kind of like spectators at a race.  I hit 6k at about 38:30, surprisingly fast, but I am only thinking about finishing and calling it a success.  I turn to my street and give a little kick at the end, shutting down at 6.5k.

A finish, a finish time of 41:39, a Strava effort of 138, and five total miles.  Did I mention that all this happened on my birthday?  Yeah, baby, great present!