8:16 average pace
164 beats per minute average
Temp 38 degrees very low wind
Felt generally excellent throughout
Comments:
This is a very familiar run for me, and one that I haven't done for some time. It's refreshing to travel a known course that I haven't run since before Dylan was born. First mile was amazing – flew through it even though it felt like a recovery run (heart rate average was 150!). Huge advantage to run a downhill and/or flat course after the bridges and Central Park hills that I typically handle.
Miles over time
7:35 (150 bpm ave)
8:04 (166 bpm ave)
8:28 (164 bpm ave)
8:14 (176 bpm ave)
4:50 (180 bpm ave) – ran straight up hill fartleg style to finish, cooled off (not timed)
Recovery intervals:
@ 2 mins (for 1 min)
Max 131
Min 122
Average 126
5 mins (for 5 mins)
Start of 5 mins – 121
Average over five mins – 112
Final heart rate – 103
Existential thoughts:
This run takes me out of my neighborhood down through Redhook to the end of this part of Brooklyn. At the furthest from our apartment, I see the Verazanno Bridge on my left and the Lady Liberty on my right. This is when I come around the Fairway market, our favorite place to shop, which has been built into an old red brick warehouse. From there, it's along a walking path that used to be a high gauge train line of some kind. As if to prove that trains actually ran on this track, a couple of rusted old cars sit, right outside of Fairway's eating patio.
From there it's a left turn in a different world...from comfortable NY Borough jogging straight into something out of Raymond Chandler. Except I used to live in SD and almost nowhere in that city still has the feeling of those great novels. This sure does – shapeless 19th century warehouses on the left, an unused in winter dock on the right. Which contrasts in the mind with the lively houseboat lifestyle lived by some there in the Summer as I can tell you. Straight ahead on this particular night was two potentially moving shapeless posts marking the end of the drive. It turned out that when I past them they were two drunk 'artists' headed home in heavy coats, speaking in low tones.
Another right, and down the street to the seemingly Daliesq Ikea – where did that come from? Folks on the street with the patented blue plastic bags, heaping with purchases.
From there another left turn, as a right turn would end me up in the freezing Atlantic – down the street there is some sort of slow motion drug deal happening between gentlemen in an Ateam van and a 1986 Chevy Impala, extended edition.
It's just about then that I realize that running is more like being in a car than being on foot. You don't actually want to be any of the places that you are at that time. Well sometimes you do – when I run through Times Square or across the Brooklyn Bridge, I enjoy being there. I'm happy to be there. But other times I want to be through my work out; I want to be somewhere else, done, not there, and I'm simply there because it's between where I was and where I'm going.
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