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“Let Me Tell You” is a series of columns from our expert editors about NYC living, including the best things to do, where to eat and drink, and what to see at the theater. They publish each Tuesday so you’re hearing from us each week. This time, Food & Drink Editor Morgan Carter tells us a tale of running, sweating and eating pizza along the way.
A few weeks ago, my colleague extended an invitation to join the annual NYC Pizza Run. Immediately thinking it was funny, I said I’d go without hesitation. I confidently told my sister that I planned on running the entire time without stopping. But as the race started to get closer, I thought to myself, “Are you delusional?”
Mind you, I used to be a runner, well, runner-ish. I grew up doing all kinds of sports but soccer was a constant, always mid-field. My 20s were spent sprinting on the treadmill and participating in 5Ks but only if they had some sort of fun element (a.k.a. color runs, bubble runs, etc.) But the last time I did any of that was, gulp, 10 years ago. In fact, the most I’ve run recently was to catch the bus cruising down Bedford Avenue. Leading up to the race, I mused, “Could I still run the entire course?” and “Does my body even know how to do that anymore?” And, most importantly, “How am I gonna eat pizza and run at the same time?”
But when I arrived at Fort Greene Park this past Sunday, my fears melted away. I quickly found check-in, locating a sizable crowd of New Yorkers gathering near the edge of the park. They were easy to spot as many showed up in pizza-related gear—think personal pan pizza hats, pepperoni shirts and full on slice costumes. In this, I knew I found my people.
After checking in and getting a sick pizza temporary tattoo, the founder of the run, Jason Feirman, greeted us at the starting line. It was a pretty straightforward endeavor: the route looped around the entirety of the park plus a bit of Brooklyn Hospital to make a full mile. You run the first lap like normal, but when you get back to the starting line, you have to eat a full slice of pizza before moving on to the next mile. Then, same deal: finish lap two, finish slice two. While my concerns were initially running related, I realized I should’ve saved some anxieties for scarfing down slices on the go. But, I didn’t have much time to worry as one countdown later, we were off to the races.
The first lap
The first mile was marked with giddy and glee. We cheered each other on, runners were taking selfies in stride and unsuspecting parkgoers hooted at our crowd of roughly 100 people. While parts of the walkway around the park were uneven due to the tree roots underneath, it was a pretty steady and uneventful lap. By the time I rounded the first corner, the faster runners had already booked it down the block. But luckily, I felt secure in my small running group and kept a steady pace.
The first slice
Arriving back at the starting line, I was greeted by Table 87 employees armed with 30 boxes of margherita pizzas. However, I soon realized that these slices were no joke. While they weren’t jumbo-size status, the slices, in a regular situation, were worthy of finding a park bench to eat it at. With sweat in my eyes, I picked what I thought was a small piece (it wasn’t) and got to work.
While scarfing in solidarity, runners lamented, “These slices are huge.” Others talked strategy and folded the slice as much as they could. Another referred to the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest and even recommended pouring water on the pizza to help it go down. While I wasn’t that desperate, I did take swigs of water in between chewing which moved the process along. Now, if I was competing for the top honors, I’d have to finish the crust. But since I was running to survive, I ate up until the edge of the crust, before tossing the rest in a trash bag and taking off.
The second lap
Since my slice was still traveling to my stomach, I felt relatively fine on the second lap. The crowd had thinned, and some regular runners joined us for a bit, likely not realizing they had entered a race. But here, the overall pain of running started to set in. My ankle hit an odd curve, bending for a second on uneven ground. I became acutely aware of the ache in my shins. But with a playlist full of Megan Thee Stallion at the ready, I kept going, knowing that the real challenge lay ahead.
The second slice
Finding myself at starting line once again, I veered over to a woman who was calling out that she had small slices. I peered inside the box, quickly realized we had different definitions of small, but got to work. This time, I harnessed the power of Joey Chestnut and got into a rhythm—drink water, bite, chew and repeat.
As I was finishing my slice, I saw a few people run right past me sans pizza in hand. For a split second, I thought they were somehow cheating, but then it dawned on me. “No, Morgan. They are lapping you.” It was enough to get me to rip off one more bite and start the final lap.
The last lap
Did you ever have PE after lunch hour? Or show up to sports practice on a full stomach? This is how the last lap felt. My burps were questionable. My shins were not my friend. No matter what music I cycled through, I was fully aware that I was running with sauce in my belly and it wasn’t going well. But still, I knew despite it all, that I could push through. I wasn’t gonna stop. And soon, the finish line would be mine.
Rounding the final corner, I passed through the finish line. I felt sweaty. I felt out of breath. But, I also felt accomplished. And once I caught my breath, I felt pleasantly full.
Before I headed off to the after party for a well-deserved free beer at DSK Brooklyn, I asked someone to take a picture of me. Triumphantly, I posed under the race banner that read, “Say Cheese (And Sauce…And Crust).” While I didn’t say it, looking at my picture, I was cheesing all the same.
Time Out Tip: Tickets to the NYC Pizza Run are released each summer and start at $50. Looking for a food-based run coming up? Check out the NYCRUNS Go Nuts For Donuts 5K on Governors Island in November.