It’s six o’clock am and I’m sitting
under a tree behind a building at Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island. Fort Wadsworth is a military base located by
the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Today it is also the ‘Athlete's Village.’ It’s where everyone participating in the
marathon awaits the start.
Due the fact that there are
multiple street closings on race day, runners need to take one of the official
transportation buses to ensure arrival at the start on time. With just under
40,000 runners to transport, buses leave from downtown Manhattan and New Jersey
as early as 5 o’clock am. This is why
I’m at Fort Wadsworth hours before the 9:40 am start.
I’m sitting under a tree behind a
building to relax, conserve energy, and get some shelter from the wind. The temperature is supposed to reach the low
50’s, however right now it’s cold and windy.
I don’t know the exact temperature but it’s somewhere in the low
30’s. With the wind chill it’s got to be
even colder. Even with multiple layers
on, it doesn’t take long for me to get cold.
I decide to get up, walk around, and get a hot beverage to help me stay
loose and warm.
As I walk around, I see people from
numerous countries. The New York City Marathon attracts runners from all over the world. It is also, along with Boston, Chicago,
Berlin, and London, part of the World Marathon Majors Tour. The World Marathon Majors is a series of
marathons in which runners accumulate points based on how they finish. At the end of the tour, which takes place
over approximately a 2-year period, the top male and female runners split
$1,000,000 in prize money. As a result,
it attracts a high number of elite runners.
While I won’t be taking home $1,000,000, I still find it very exciting
to be part of an event of this caliber.
I don’t want to use up too much
energy, so I sit down once again. There
are some large tents set up for runners to sit down, stretch, and relax
in. However, after looking inside, I see
that there does not appear to be much space for another body. I decide to seek out another tree, but first,
I have some business to take care of.
I have to visit the
port-a-potty. Now normally, this
wouldn’t be noteworthy, but as I quickly realize there’s no exposure to the
wind, inside the port-a-potty is the warmest place in Athlete’s Village. I’ll admit it, the thought of spending a
couple more hours in here to warm up does cross my mind. After all, there are hundreds of them with
practically no lines. Would anyone
really know? Maybe if the ambiance were
better, I might consider this more. But
it is a portable public bathroom after all, so I exit and once again take a seat under a
tree behind a building.
After three hours of trying to
relax, focus, and stay warm, the time has finally come for me to shed
everything I’m wearing except for my race gear and report to my corral. A corral is a spot where runners gather just
before being directed to their place at the starting line. Runners are assigned to a corral based on
their expected finishing time. Now the
word corral conjures up images of thousands of runners being herded together
like cattle. While there are no race
officials on horseback chasing runners to the corral, there are directions
being given over the loud speakers.
The corrals are gated areas in
which race officials act like bouncers at a club, allowing only individuals
assigned to the corral, to enter. Since
I had qualified for a guaranteed spot in this year’s race, I didn’t have to win
my entry via their lottery system. Therefore, I am positioned in a corral near the front of the pack.
While standing at the start, I can
feel an incredible amount of energy in the air.
There are competitors and reporters from all over the world. The starting area is lined with buses and
helicopters overhead. Seeing the
Verrazano-Narrows Bridge towering in front of me is an awesome sight. I’m enjoying the moment and soaking in the
entire experience, but at the same time, I’m very anxious to start. To quote Tom Petty, “the waiting is the
hardest part.”
Before the race starts, the elite
men are introduced. The elite women had
a 9 o’clock start time and therefore are already running. Mayor Bloomberg speaks to the crowd of
runners and spectators, and of course, no sporting event is complete without
the singing of the Star Spangled Banner. Once the preliminary events are complete, the starting gun fires. The 2008 New York City Marathon has
begun.
Approximately the first 1.5-1.75
miles are spent crossing the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. There is a median strip in the form of cement
barriers down the center, with runners occupying the entire bridge both the
right and left sides of the median.
Whenever I compete in any running event, especially one of this size, I
try to avoid being boxed in. However, I
quickly find myself with the median strip on my left, a wall of runners on my
right, and not much room to run freely as a result.
There’s a guy running in a SpiderMan costume in front of me who’s struggling to put his mask on. There is just enough room to his right for
me to squeeze by, so I pick up my pace long enough to get around him. I take care not to interfere as I go by him,
just in case this is the real SpiderMan on his way to fight crime somewhere.
There are so many runners on the bridge that I find it difficult to run comfortably. Making progress involves running around
people, while being careful not to trip myself or others. Because of this, I quickly realize that today
is not a day for a personal best time.
There are just too many people to deal with. I decide to make the focus just enjoying the
whole experience.
As we exit the bridge, runners on
the right side (which is the side I’m on) take one route, while the runners on
the left take another. We will meet
again soon, no doubt. We approach mile
2, and there are thousands of spectators lining the streets. The fist sign being held up by a spectator says,
“welcome to Brooklyn.” This is my first
time in Brooklyn and there are thousands of people to welcome me. How thoughtful!
After running about a half mile
through the streets of Brooklyn, we merge with the other lane of runners. Seeing two groups of thousands of fast moving
runners merge is a very surreal experience.
It resembles two fast-moving streams merging to form a powerful
river. To organize the merger of these
forces there is a man-made median strip consisting of sawhorses with yellow
police tape connecting them. After about
a mile, this median strip gives way to a series of traffic islands, which allows
for less separation of the two lanes of runners.
Much to my surprise, I soon spot
another group of runners to my right. It
almost looks as if there is a separate race being run. However, this group of runners then merges
with us. It turns out that there were
runners on the lower deck of the bridge as well.
Mile 3.5 is where all runners
finally merge. Because there are fewer
runners on the left side, at mile 5 I decide to cross over at a break between
the islands. This allows me to open up
my pace and run more freely. It’s not
until the 10k mark that I realize the error of my ways.
It turns out that due to the
separation of lanes when exiting the bridge, the runners on the left hadn’t run
the same distance as those on the right.
They had run approximately 2/10 of a mile less. I came to this realization when at the 10k
mark, there was a section of matting on the road on the right side but not the
left. This matting is on the course
every 5 kilometers, as well as at the halfway point. It picks up the signal from a chip each
runner wears on their shoe to determine their split times, as well as their
official overall time. This is no big
deal, just that my 10k will show as being slower than it actually was.
I figure there must
be some type of course diversion soon to make the mileage for both sides of the
road equal. I didn’t want to get stuck
running further than I had to.
Therefore, after passing the 10k mark for the left side of the road, I
quickly switch back to the right side, where I should have stayed all
along.
Sure enough, at 8 miles this
diversion occurs. The runners on the
left side of the road temporarily separate from those on the right side, only
to reconnect a few minutes later. From
this point forward, the mileage is the same for both the left and right sides
of the road.
The course continues to wind its
way through the spectator-filled streets of Brooklyn. I’m feeling strong and averaging a pace of 7
minutes per mile. I’m comfortable with
my pace, and know it’s not unrealistic to maintain it. I also am wearing a heart rate monitor to
help ensure I pace myself correctly.
It’s easy under these circumstances to get an endorphin rush from all
the cheering and go too fast. My goal at
this point is to keep my pace steady and avoid this temptation.
At the half marathon mark, my time
is 1:33. As any runner knows, doing math
while racing can be difficult. However,
it doesn’t take much effort to determine that I’m on pace for a 3:06 marathon. It’s not a personal best, but I could
certainly live very happily with that.
I’m now running in Queens, with the
crowds just as lively and numerous as they were in Brooklyn. At mile 16, the course enters Manhattan via
the Queensboro Bridge. The bridge
starts at mile 15 and ends at mile 16.
There are no spectators on the bridge, but I can hear the distant
roaring of cheering ahead. At this point
I have separated myself considerably from those runners behind me. I feel like I am running on the bridge by
myself. I know this experience will be
short-lived, so I try to enjoy it.
A runner soon comes up behind me
and starts to pass me on the left. As I
turn to see who it is, I quickly realize that it’s SpiderMan. He’s ditched the mask and is now running with
his face exposed for all of New York to see his true identity. I think to myself, "I would like to beat
SpiderMan, but if I don’t it’s not a big deal, he is a super hero after all."
During the final ¼ mile on the
bridge, I approach yet another person running in costume. This time it’s someone dressed as Minnie
Mouse. I didn’t know Minnie was a
runner; I don’t recall any mention of her in the Celebrity Runner’s section of
the race program. As I pass, I turn to
look at Minnie. Much to my surprise,
this person dressed as Minnie, is a man.
Now I’ve been a runner for over 30 years, and I’m a competitive person. At this point, I’m not as concerned with who
beats me, as long as I know I gave 100% and ‘put it all out there’ so to
speak. I quickly decide though, that
there is absolutely no way I’m going to be beat my Minnie Mouse. I pass Minnie and never look back.
After exiting the Queensboro
Bridge, the course enters Manhattan. While I’ve never competed in the Olympics, I’ve got to believe that this
experience is comparable (at least in regards to energy in the air) to an Olympic Marathoner running
through the tunnel and entering the stadium near the finish. It goes from quiet to crazy. There is so much energy and excitement from
the crowds that it takes extra focus to maintain my pace.
The course turns onto First Avenue, which is also lined with cheering crowds every step of the way. This is a good thing because the course is
starting to get tough, and the extra motivation they provide is extremely
helpful. What makes this part of the
course tough is that it’s absolutely straight for 4 miles. This makes it tough mentally. I look ahead and see runners miles ahead that
aren’t turning. They’re just going
straight; It’s like they’re running to infinity. I don’t want to run to infinity! What makes this part of the course physically
tough is that there’s a gradual incline that also never seems to end. Not only are we running to infinity, we’re
doing it uphill!
Finally the course levels out as we
enter the Bronx at mile 20. I’m still
maintaining my pace, but I’m doing it a little more laboriously. I’ve been hydrating and taking Gu Energy Gel
regularly throughout the race, but this is a common feeling. I believe it was Olympic Marathoner, Frank
Shorter, who once said, “a marathon consists of two halves: the first half is
miles 1-20, and the second is miles 20-26.2. “ I’ve now entered this ‘2nd
half.’
The time and effort required to run
one mile feels doubled. This is where
the mental component of the race becomes prevalent. I’ve been running marathons off and on for at
least 16 years. In that time, I’ve found
that the best way to deal with the mental and physical challenge of the last
6.2 miles is to count them down in my mind.
Along with this, I break the remaining miles down into segments. For example, from looking at the course map
prior to the race, I recall that the course enters Central Park at mile
23. I make this my short-term goal. Instead of 6.2 miles to go, there are only 3
miles until Central Park. When I reach
Central Park, I’ll then break down the remaining mileage into additional
segments.
The course only goes through the
Bronx for 1 mile, re-entering Manhattan at mile 21, and going through Harlem
around mile 22. The spectator support is
still tremendous and energizing. At this
point I’m just focused on keeping my legs moving, keep my pace, and counting
down the miles. I feel like I’m
shuffling through Harlem. Somehow I
don’t think that this is what the Rolling Stones had in mind when they sang, “Do the Harlem Shuffle.”
I’ve been getting water or Gatorade
at each station, and taking electrolytes throughout the race. I’m still noticing some of the effects of
dehydration though. It’s taking more
effort to maintain my pace, and the surest sign of all, I’m thirsty. I decide that at each and every water station
from this point forward , that I’m going to get both water and Gatorade.
I continue to chug along at what feels like a
steady pace. However, my split times
are increasing and my pace has gone from 7 minutes per mile to about 7 minutes,
10 seconds. I can often maintain a strong
and consistent pace through the final miles of a marathon. Today my pace just seems to be
fluctuating. I’m experiencing peaks and
valleys in my energy. I try to enjoy my
peaks and focus on keeping my legs moving through the valleys.
Finally I reach Central Park. While this is a great moment because there
are only 3.2 miles to go, I’m not too pleased to discover that upon entering the park the course steadily inclines. It’s a
gradual incline that seems to continue on for miles. In actuality, it was probably only a ¼ of a
mile. I keep my eyes focused on the road
about 25 feet in front of me, and focus on chugging along to get the next mile
marker.
At the 40k mark, I cross the final
set of matting before the finish to detect my split time with the chip in my
shoe. I’m too fatigued to do much math,
but I do know that 40 kilometers is a little less than 25 miles. I think to myself, "Hallelujah I’m almost at
the one mile to go mark", which in my mind at that point, was the 2nd
best point of the race. Number one is
obviously the finish line.
The course continues to wind its
way through Central Park. There’s
enough distance between the runners in my vicinity and me to make it feel like
I’m the center of attention. It’s too
bad that I can’t put on a better show and pick up my pace for a nice, strong
kick to the finish. That’s not going to
happen today though. I just hope I don’t
look as bad as I feel. I’m tired and
really hungry. Thanks to the incline, my
pace over the last mile was down to 8 minutes, which is well below my normal
race pace.
I continue to have peaks and
valleys in my energy level, only now the peaks don’t last as long. I haven’t hit ‘the wall,’ but I can see it
lurking up ahead. If this race were 26.3
miles instead of 26.2, I’d probably hit it.
Finally I reach the 26-mile mark,
another bittersweet moment. There are
only 2/10 of mile to go, but it’s uphill, not a steep incline thankfully, but a
gradual one nonetheless like the others.
In this case though, the sweet outweighs the bitter. While my fatigued state has probably given me
a false perception of the incline, the fact that I’m practically at the finish
makes me not mind having to shuffle my tired legs up any hill.
I give my all to get to the finish
as quickly as I can, crossing in 3:11:13, 1,855th place overall. My time is a palindrome! It’s not a personal best time, but one I’m
certainly happy with, and while I may have had 1,854 people ahead of me, there
were at least 37,135 behind me. I did
finish ahead of Minnie Mouse, but I’m not sure about SpiderMan. That doesn’t matter though. Despite being tired and really hungry, I feel
incredible. I just ran the NYC
Marathon!
