I meet Fred at 96th and Central Park West at 6:45, fifteen minutes before the start of the race. I’m late. The C train that I was counting on wasn’t running (E to the B works, just in case you were wondering). I still have to check my bags, though. So, we start running to race central to do that.

The sweat starts pouring and my stress levels are already up because I’m late. I hate being late, especially when I’m constrained by traffic or late trains. Makes my blood boil.

We run in the opposite direction of everyone else going to the start but it’s gotta get done. We get there, I grab some clear plastic bags and shove everything inside. They stop me and tell me to make sure everything is out of the bags that I have shoved in the clear plastic bags. Time is ticking. I do what they ask.

Now we’re ready to go and run back to the start. I still have to pin my bib to my skintight Under Armour shirt that I bought at Modell’s on my lunch hour. I feel a little self conscious wearing it but I have to.

Let me get real with you: I’ve gotta protect my nipples when I run otherwise they get torn up. Tape and bandages don’t do it. Body glide doesn’t do it. Skintight Under Armour does and I’m not gonna wear a shirt over it in this heat. So, take a look, everyone.

We sneak into corral E, which neither of us are in but it’ll do.

I cut myself as I pin my bib to me shirt but we made it. It’s humid but it was humid the late time I ran a race. I can handle it.

Let’s do this.

Except. While waiting to start the race, I feel a familiar stomach discomfort, like I might need to, uh, take a seat soon. But it’s race time. I’m gonna race.

We run out of the gate and I’m keeping pace with Fred and it feels great. We’re going downhill and we break 7 minutes in the first mile.

Then we start going uphill and my stomach lets me know that this is not a drill but I run on. How long can I make it?

Not the whole race.

I hit the portable at the second water station and let Fred run on. I was pissed that I wouldn’t make a decent time.

That was at mile two. I ran out for the last 1.1 miles and the humidity was catching up to me. I pushed as hard as I could at the very end and, when I finished, felt like hell. I could hardly breathe or drink water (or eat the free popsicle handed out at the end). I was soaked. Fred snapped the above pic a few minutes after and seemed genuinely worried that I might have heat stroke.

I made it home, dripping with sweat, then freezing in the heavily air conditioned B train (it was heavenly). I drank a big Gatorade and all is well.

So, what’s the twist?

Well, I checked all of my previous 5Ks and I still managed to beat my first three 5K times. So, when you look at it, I set a PR for a 5K with a dump break.