Out of all of the things I write, I usually get the best reactions for my race reports; where I give a mile by mile recap, and try and combine humor and poignancy. Still, despite running the St. Patrick’s Day Half Marathon yesterday, I have no race report to give over.
When I got to the race, I met up with two friends who I first met this past January in Miami. Despite the fact that they hadn’t done much running since completing their first marathon, they decided to try and run with me (no big deal, believe me). On a beautiful day, we got to run at one of the NYC’s great running venues, Van Cordlandt Park. Thanks to last week’s rainfall, it was a real cross country course as well, with healthy doses of hills, mud and logs to go over or on.
As much as I enjoyed the course, the company was even better. We talked, joked and pushed each other when our legs wanted to quit. Therein lies the lack of a race report. I got so involved in the running and conversation, that I had no time to compose my report as I ran. Not that I am complaining. Yesterday was the kind of day that helps me fall in love with running again. It was the kind of race that I wish I could get non-runners to try. No entry fee, medals, chips or closed streets. Just effort, sweat, dirt and passion. Throw in the Irish connection (I love all things Irish) and it was the perfect race.
I remember after completing my first half marathon, how I didn’t want to take off the medal, even when I went through the metal detector at the airport. Did I say there was no medal yesterday? It was with much regret when I got home that I took a shower and washed the mud from my legs. To me, the mud was as good as any medal I have ever received.