New Jersey: the eighth state on my quest to run a full or half marathon in every single state in the country. After a successful finish at the Twin Cities Marathon in October, my first full marathon in over three years due to a long slew of injury after frustrating injury (!!), I was ecstatic to choose my next full and start planning my race weekend. I decided on New Jersey due to its proximity to my hometown of Baltimore, and a desire to run a race in mid-spring, which gave me plenty of time to recover and train.

Of course, not everything went exactly to plan. But when does it ever go according to plan?

Some personal medical issues transpired in April, throwing my whole world off-kilter for a bit, ultimately leading me to give up my goal of committing to the mileage required for full marathon training. I contacted the New Jersey Marathon via email and requested to be switched from the full to the half. They were extremely timely and accommodating in their response, and switching races was a breeze (though, of course, I did lose out on the price difference, paying $115 for the full rather than the $100 I would have paid for the half).

Going into race weekend, I was exhausted, but relieved at the thought of tackling a shorter race after barely any extensive training (either physical or mental). My mom and I packed up her car, piling running shoes, sports bras, and Gu packets across the back seat, buckled in, and embarked on the three hour journey up the coast towards state number eight.

The Expo

Upon arriving in Asbury Park, New Jersey, we swung the car into a free parking spot on the street and went straight to the expo, which was at the Asbury Park Convention Hall right on the boardwalk.

Mom being Mom, she made a beeline for the restrooms, seemingly about to pee in her jeans, only to be met with a queue snaking out the ladies room door, a crowd of women waiting to use one of two stalls. I looked at my mom nervously, her brow furrowing and starting to perspire. I tried distracting her as the line moved forward, but it seemed like all she could focus on was her dire need to pee. Once we reached the front of the line, an employee of the convention hall smiled at us, jumped in between us and the stall, and disappeared inside with a large, replacement roll of toilet paper. I think Mom was within millimeters of losing it.

The convention hall is very old, with, shall we say, limited facilities. My mother made it in time, though, and we didn’t have any embarrassing disasters on our hands.

When we got to the expo, which was in its final hours, it was relatively uncrowded. The process of picking up my bib, then t-shirt, was quick. The race used fluid bib assignment, so instead of rifling through bibs when you arrived to find the one assigned to you, they just gave you the next bib in the pile and put your corral sticker on it. It was very smooth and only took a minute or two.

The expo offered a small number of vendor stalls after pick-up, which drew me in with their cute tank tops but ultimately repelled me with their not-so-cute price tags. Considering the fact that I so rarely will buy anything at race expos (save a couple packs of Gu occasionally), I wasn’t bothered by the small amount of merchandise, but I could see being disappointed if you’re a big expo shopper.

The Accommodations

The New Jersey Marathon partners with a couple of the hotels in town to offer discounted rates to race participants. I chose the cheapest option, the Berkeley Oceanfront Hotel, which was set at $159 per night. Best of all, the hotel was right across the street from the convention hall, which made for a very relaxing evening.

Asbury Park is a really weird town. Walking through it, we felt almost disconcerted, with its run-down buildings and quiet streets and terrifying giant clown face painted on the peeling wall of a bar. But the place is apparently steeped in history, and is a popular tourist destination. We actually regretted not making dinner reservations, as all the restaurants were poppin on that cool and windy Saturday night in April, but the Robinson Ale House accommodated us by sitting us at a small table in the back and being extremely attentive, despite the crowds. And the mac and cheese was delicious!

The Race

Mom and I rolled out of bed early the next morning, reluctantly pulling on our shoes (with lots of whining on my part). After an obligatory pit stop at Dunkin Donuts for some oatmeal and dry fruit (oatmeal being THE go-to pre-race breakfast), we drove the 7 miles up the coast to Monmouth Park in Oceanport. Driving to start lines has made me extremely anxious ever since the Las Vegas debacle of 2014, where I almost missed the start of the marathon due to ridiculous hoards of traffic, and ended up having a really unattractive panic attack with plenty of gasping sobs. However, this race is a lot smaller (with about 2,300 finishers in the full and 3,300 finishers in the half), and though we hit a little traffic, the funneling of cars into the race track parking lot was efficient.

We parked, and had to walk across the entire race track to get to the start. There were seven corrals of runners, with both full and half participants lining up together. The race volunteers were particularly peppy that morning, yelling words of encouragement into the microphone and being met with a few lukewarm cheers in response.

The porta potty situation was actually decent, with plenty of pots and a relatively short wait time. Since we got there a little close to the start, we ended up having a very short line to pee, and didn’t feel like we were cutting it too close due to the wave start. We ended up hopping into the last corral, since no one was really monitoring who was in which corral, and reached the starting line about 15 minutes after the first gun.

Considering this race is a race “down the shore,” there was surprisingly little actual running along the water. I pictured a lot of boardwalk and sand, but it was almost exclusively on roads surrounded by lush foliage. We did a lot of running through neighborhoods, over scenic bridges, through more residential areas with families cheering in their driveways, and it wasn’t until shortly before mile 12 that we actually turned out and finished the race on Long Branch’s Ocean Promenade along the beach.

The race was chilly but humid; I actually wore a long sleeve t-shirt over my tank top with leggings for almost the first 10 miles, which is absolutely unheard of for my body which always runs a degree or so above normal. It was overcast and wet, and most of the course was pretty quiet. However, there were water stations every one to two miles, offering both water and Gatorade, and porta potties every few miles as well (which was helpful, as I have apparently forgotten how to hydrate for long races and always end up desperately needing to pee around mile two).

Mom and I ran the first 6 or so miles together, then I broke off for the second half of the race. As nervous as I was, I was actually feeling pretty good, and the quiet setting of the course made for a very peaceful run.

Around mile 11, the course split; full marathoners went to the right, and half marathoners went to the left. At that point, the fact that I only had two more miles, and not 15, was the greatest gift I have ever given myself. I stared at the full marathoners hobbling onward with the deepest and most sincere pity. Marathons are fuxking LONG. I felt like this half was long, but running all of that TWICE?? I need to do some serious soul searching and mindful preparation before I attempt 26.2 miles again.

Since the finish line was 6.5 miles from the start line, there were frequent free shuttles taking finishers and spectators alike back to the parking lot at Monmouth. There was some parking at the finish, but you had to purchase a $15 parking pass in advance, with limited spots and congested streets. Given the ease of the shuttles, I doubt the pass was worth it.

The worst part of this race experience: a digital download of one, single, high resolution photo was 25 GODDAMN DOLLARS (with prints starting at $16 each). My good lord. I don’t think I look even close to good enough to warrant that kind of spending.

The best parts of this race experience: the course was almost entirely flat, so even though I wasn’t completely mentally, emotionally, or physically ready for 13.1 miles, the fast course made it as painless as possible for me. Also, Philly Pretzel Factory soft pretzels at the end. Enough said. I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited for any post-race snack, which I devoured in the grass, hunched and shivering in my heat blanket, waiting for my mother to come and find me like a lost 5 year old.

The Swag

I fell in love with the technical t-shirt from this race. It is short sleeved, light, very breathable, and mint green (mint green was the official half color, salmon the official full color; clearly they know what they’re doing with this color scheme). Race t-shirts are always hit or miss, but I’ll be wearing this one for many years to come.

The finisher’s medal is fascinating. It’s heavy and high quality and beautiful. It’s two pieces: the bottom white with “HALF MARATHON” spelled out in raised dots on the back, the top piece spinnable over top of the bottom piece, with the name of the race, the date, and all the New Jersey towns the race runs through encircling an outline of the state. And, of course, mint green. Probably one of the coolest and most unique medals I’ve ever gotten.

The New Jersey Marathon clearly put some thought into its premium and medal, and I adore both of them.

The Verdict

This race was GOOD. It was well organized, the process of switching to the half from the full was painless, the volunteers were amazing, the course was flat, and the pretzels were delicious. I can’t say enough good things about it. If you want to save on money, I’d recommend enlisting your friends and family to be your own personal photographers, because $25 for a digital download is alarming and sad.

Thanks for having me, New Jersey. I promise to stop referring to you as the grossest state in America. You are actually lovely.