Ran 3 miles yesterday morning in 28:12. Little G’s battery had died so I used the stopwatch on my iPod instead and ran the route I know to be 3 miles. Apart from not having my Garmin’s company on the run, it was pretty uneventful.
This morning, however, I got up at 5 AM to complete 7 miles before work. Wow, they were amazing. I ran to Hell Gate Bridge and back, but rather than taking the side streets (which I do on the weekends to avoid heavy pedestrian traffic) I was able to run along the wide sidewalks of Steinway Street. There was no one around–sure, there was the random person straggling off to work super-early, but I didn’t have to weave around anyone or wait for a car to pass by even once–and the streetlamps lit my way clearly sand safely. It was cold, I was feeling energized, and the route is mostly flat so I pushed the pace in the hopes I could sustain it for seven miles. I had only one split slower than 9 minutes, and it was a 9:02. My average pace was 8:40, and my fastest mile was the last, which I ran in 8:03 despite having to contend with the Harold Avenue (39th Street) Bridge. The distance took me 60:38 to complete, despite my secret hope to finish in under an hour. It felt excellent to run quickly, to really stretch my legs and get my heart pounding. When I run fast like that I always imagine I am lithe and graceful, when in fact I am heel-striking. In fact, none of it matters when my workouts are this good–and, who cares that I skipped Sunday’s pace run since basically I did it this morning.
I don’t want to forget to tell you about the turnaround point of the run, at Ditmars Boulevard and Shore Drive. I was afforded an absolutely gorgeous view of the East River, rushing along like a black satin ribbon between Queens and Manhattan. Above it sparkled the Triboro Bridge, illuminated in the night. On the opposite shore The Empire State and Chrysler Buildings twinkled above the other office and apartment buildings, and the streetlamps of the West Side Highway daintily hemmed them all in. Closest to me though was the Hell Gate Bridge, massive and solid with just a few lights here and there. It curved north across the river and into Manhattan, its trestles and columns apparent only as denser patches of the night.
Songs I ran to: “Sea Lion Woman” by Feist, “Second Hand News” by Bob Mould, “See Me Beautiful” by Sister Hazel, “See These Bones” by Nada Surf, “Sei Volata Via” by Ron, Fiorella Mannoia & Francesco DeGregori, “Sell the Lie” by the Damnwells, “Sem Contencao” by Bebel Gilberto, “Sense” by Pete Yorn, “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire, “Sequestered in Memphis” by The Hold Steady, “Serve Your Soul” by Ben Harper, “Sexy M.F.” by Prince “(SHAKIN’ THAT ASS! SHAKIN” THAT ASS!), “Shadow Stabbing” by Cake, “Shadowland” by Steve Earle, “Shadrach” by The Beastie Boys