Performance
Stepping Stones
Homing in on the Brooklyn Half
Editor’s note: After some setbacks the year before, Tim Rossi, co-founder of Lostboys Track Club and a regular TEMPO contributor, turned a corner in the lead-up to April’s Brooklyn Half Marathon. He wrote this just a few days before the race. From here, we’ll be following Tim in a series of articles as he prepares for the Berlin Marathon in late September.
We’re back. Well, kinda.
The last time I wrote something here, I was coming off the worst race of my life. A cool 2:48 at the 2021 NYC Marathon (which I can consider a bad race when I’ve run 2:31 before). In fact, after that PR in 2018, I have officially run 2:49, 2:46, 2:53, 2:31, and 2:48. That 2:31 feels a bit like an outlier, right?
Which is maybe what my return to TEMPO is all about. On Saturday, I’ll take on the Brooklyn Half Marathon yet again, but this time as a runner whose confidence was broken six months ago.
To keep the history lesson brief, I was a 2:46 guy when I ran 2:31 in NYC in 2018. Prior to that race, I’d spent my 20-week training block convincing myself I could break 2:30. It worked – I believed in myself and the results followed.
“The entirety of my running resumé told me that my fastest results were in fact outliers. And that crack in my belief became a full-on fissure as I tried to race myself out of the rut.”
Tim Rossi
Take 2021. All through the year, I thought of myself as a 2:31 guy. My training wasn’t perfect, so I thought I might run 2:35 because that shouldn’t be insanely hard for a 2:31 guy. But I had lost a level of respect for the distance and ended up going in wayyyyy over my head.
I lacked the healthy fear for the distance, and I ran 2:48.
And then, suddenly, I didn’t feel like a 2:31 guy anymore.
The entirety of my running resumé told me that my fastest results were in fact outliers. And that crack in my belief became a full-on fissure as I tried to race myself out of the rut. I endured a test at the Montauk Turkey Trot (6 miles-ish or just under 10km, 33:35 with my lovely girlfriend, way harder than I care to admit), a slow death in the heat at Club XC Nationals (10km, 35:27, truly tough) and then a slow death in the cold at the Blue Point 10 miler (16km, 57:16, -10°F or -23°C, a bone-chilling slog).
That belief in myself that I had spent countless ounces of training-shoe rubber to cultivate evaporated. I worried about being sick, having low iron, being injured; I was searching for answers, until I realised that nothing was wrong and I simply was not fit.
They say you are only as good as your most recent results (or, at least, I started saying this to myself), and my recent results were badddddd. And then I started to believe that maybe my good results were anomalies.
It sucked, let me tell ya. But, somewhere in there, I realised that if I simply was unfit I could also rediscover the fitness I once had. So, instead of racing my way through it and digging myself into a deeper and deeper hole of mental negativity, I stepped back.
I remembered what had got me to 2:31 – a break from racing, a commitment to consistency and a focus on the bigger picture.
I trained, doing nothing impressive but starting to stack weeks. I found joy in the process and didn’t put a ton of pressure on any particular day. And then, when I felt ready, I put the singlet back on.
The Cherry Tree 10 miler in Prospect Park (read: three loops of a very hilly park in Brooklyn) probably best embodies this journey back.
I ran the first 5 miles (8km) with my girlfriend, trying to chill but worrying that it felt harder than it should have.
5:55, 5:45, 5:48, 5:53, 5:48.
It felt so blah that I considered scrapping the plan of picking it up, but I had come to the race for a reason, so I thought, “Fuck it, let’s give it a try.”
5:27, 5:28, 5:40 (big hill).
I feel goooooood, and I was picking people off.
5:16, 5:15.
56:28 the hard way. Not crazy impressive, but things had seemingly clicked over the back half. I’d ran splits I was proud of, and I felt like the runner I was hoping I’d be once again.
This was momentum, a step in the right direction, and it carried.
Next was the Race for the Kids 4 miler (6.4km – who knows why it was for the kids?) in Central Park.
20:32. Fourteenth overall. 5:12, 5:07, 5:13, 4:58.
A 15-second PR.
My first official PR since 2019.
The belief was back.
I was HYPED. Going into that race I had a little momentum, yes, but it was balanced with fear that a bad result would send me spiraling deeper. Reasonable? No. But the pressure was there in my mind, and when I came through the first mile in 5:12, feeling good, that pressure melted away.
I shifted from thinking I could maybe break 21 minutes to just flowing and being intrigued by how hard I could push my body. I felt like a runner with the world in front of him.
Hell, I’d never split a sub-five mile in a road race before.
The belief was back – I was back to dreaming massive dreams and believing anything is possible again.
My first real leap of faith in running was believing sub-2:30 was possible, which led to 2:31.
This time, I needed to believe the Tim Rossi from 2018 was still inside me somewhere, hibernating through the injuries and inconsistent training. I believe it again.
So now, heading into the Brooklyn Half, I’m excited once again. The rebuild is still ongoing but, no matter what happens, one bad race won’t completely derail me. Which is amazing, because a few days out from the half the weather is looking reallllllly bad.
I think I can break 70 – that’s been a massive goal for a while. It means running 5:20 per mile (3:20 per km) for 13.1 miles. On the right day, I believe the fitness is there now. And I’m stoked that I believe that, because my PR is 1:11:16 right now. I love that I am dreaming big once again.
And what does Kipchoge say? It’s not about the legs; it's about the heart and mind.
Personally, I think they are cyclical. Sometimes the mind is ready for times the legs are not yet prepared for, but then other times the legs are at a different level than the mind. They flow into one another: when I am physically fit, my mental improves, and when I am mentally there my legs tend to follow. Balance, synergy, all that. Right now, my mind is back.
But, alas, Mother Nature doesn’t always cooperate. As of now we are looking at a high of 95°F (35°C) on race day – woof. That’s okay; we can’t control the weather, but we can respect it.
My best ever placing at the BK Half is 40th. This time, I think I can crack the top 25 or even top 20, if I approach the race correctly. We all need to deal with the conditions; I just believe I can suffer better than anyone else out there.
And, ultimately, this race is a stepping stone.
In 2018 (that’s the 2:31 year), I ran 1:12:30 and used the BK Half as a launchpad into a larger fall marathon build.
This year, I’m doing the same thing.
Regardless of the time I run on Saturday, all roads lead to the fall of 2022 (spring in the southern hemisphere) where I’ll once again take a shot at breaking 2:30, this time in Berlin. A barrier that at one time felt so far away now feels attainable once again.
And I’m taking my shot once more, with no intention of missing.
No matter what, we’re gonna send it.
#Breaking230.
Post-race notes: I ran 1:11:46 on a day that was 70°F (21°C) with 100% humidity, which made it feel MUCH hotter. I hit a 5:29 per mile average and placed 36th overall. Not a perfect day, but progress for sure. And the best part? In 2018 I ran only 1:12:30 here, in better conditions.
Like almost every race, there are things I would have liked to have gone differently, but I’ve established some momentum leading into the fall. (This momentum was then confirmed when I finished second at the midnight half eight weeks later.)
Momentum itself is a funny thing. It’s elusive - you have to build it slowly, and nurture it. It’s also incredibly valuable for its ability to create belief. And so it builds. Bring on September.
