It was like a Seinfeld episode beginning.
I make sure all the alarms are set, so I wake up on time. Check the a.m/p.m. Ring the front desk for a wake up call because it is daylight savings the day of the race.
It is well known that you dont get much sleep the night before a race. I had my pasta dinner at 5:30 and I was in bed by 8 with everything prepared for the 26-mile, New York City Marathon. I was ready to go at 4 a.m. when the alarm sounded. I get up, get ready, get down to the taxis, and find out Im an hour early! What? The clocks didnt change and I was up at 3 instead of 4! I go back to the room and rest for about 45 minutes. When its time, I head back down to get a taxi to the NYC Public Library to catch a shuttle to Staten Island. This is about 30 minutes of walking and standing in line with 38,000 other early birds. Oh, and its 40 degrees and windy.
Its finally daylight after the hour long ride to the starting corrals. I catch up with my team. They announce my wave start a couple hours later. Time to find my spot in a sea of eager runners.
We can view the runners in the first wave lined up at the bottom of the bridge. Numerous blimps and helicopters are looming overhead, and the excitement is palpable. The first gunshot goes off, and here come the tears from me and many others.
Did all the training prepare me well enough? Can I do this? Will I do this? Wait! I am doing this! I am going to run a marathon today and it is going to be fabulous!
All I could do at that point was rely on my previously treaded miles and just enjoy the day. I begin to cry from relief or joy. I dont know which, but I was certain the tears were keeping me warm.
We move forward to the base of the bridge. People start shedding all of their layers and passing along training stories and causes. We are all connected. I kept all four of my layers, because I was pretty sure it would be cold and windy on that bridge. A far cry from a summertime cool of 100 degrees where I did my training in Scottsdale, Ariz.
The gunshot signals the beginning of my marathon. It takes only a minute or so and I am able to shuffle a little. Then, I have all the space I need and the pacers race ahead. Crying again, I shed one layer (volunteers pick everything up and all the gear goes to charity). Clothes are flying off all over the place!
I begin my ascent over the Verrazano Bridge and the views of the city are nothing short of spectacular. It was a tough first mile, but I never like the first mile. Thats pretty easy to equate to real life. I find myself in the same company of a woman on my team. Her name is Martha. She is from Baltimore, Md., and this is also her first marathon. We come off the bridge into Brooklyn and at about mile 3, the sight of the smiling and cheering faces of those beautiful New Yorkers was such a happy surprise.
The energy was moving from the crowd to the runners and back to the crowd. It was like a running rock concert!
We passed our first chip tracker Those were exciting, because they are like little milestones. They are an electronic tracking device that senses a chip you attach to your shoelace before you start. The officials can verify that you ran the entire race and post your official finish time. The tracking devices also break up the race into a bunch of small victories getting you to the finish line. Thats kind of like life, too.
There is so much going on and Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn is so adorable. I feel right at home here. It just has that hometown feel to it. Firemen are geared up with the ladders up on their trucks. One fireman is actually trekking the race in all of his gear. Yes, I proposed to him! Seriously, I did.
There are bands playing every half mile or so, and I try to make eye contact with at least one of the members in each band and say thank you. I hear a person in the crowd say, they all have a smiles on their faces. I just dont get it! A church choir was singing so loudly, they had soul and passed it along to Martha and me.
We cruise through the Bronx and we are keeping a good pace. Were eating oranges and bananas, and other food that the spectators and volunteers are handing us. If you need it, it will be there. One high school band plays the Rocky theme. We all have a little bit of Rocky in us, dont you think?
It gets quiet for a while around miles 13 and 14. All of the sudden, we hear welcome to Queens from some locals cheering on an overpass. My body still feels good. We are more than half-way there.
Sadly, at about mile 18, I lose my running partner, Martha, who was having some knee issues and decided she should walk.
While the people in Brooklyn were the best clappers and screamers, the best signs were in Manhattan. The signs included Baby you were born to run!; Pain is temporary, pride is forever; and Beer waiting! One of the runners had a shirt that read This is my first time, be gentle. Another one was I didnt train. What does that say about me that I was behind him to read the back of his shirt? Another lady was wearing her pink tutu.
I hit the wall at about mile 21, pull out a Power Gel, and I see a sign that says Push through the wall. OK! I will.
I pull myself together and relax. I try to concentrate on form, because I see a lot of people slouching over. Stay hydrated! Use those arms. Cmon legs work! Where is the next chip sensor?
I get past miles 22 and 23. Im coming into Central Park, now.
I am so close, but everything hurts. This is what its like inside mile 24. Your feet are no longer feet. They are two cinder blocks that you are trying to control with your knees. Only, your knees are gone, too. They have turned into the mushy spaghetti you have been eating for the past three months. Your knees are like two seized engines. They need lots of work and grease! I can feel boulders in my feet now. It is from the pounding blood down there for the past 4.5 hours.
Here comes mile 25 and a flood of tears. I knew it would be like this, because I have played it in my mind a hundred times. In the last two miles of the NYC Marathon, there are so many downhills. Its torture! Id much rather hike up than fall down. Oh, that sounds like life as well.
People are screaming. I remember taking a big salty breadstick that someone handed to me and it was exactly what I needed. Another shot of water and it was like mile 5 again. I was strong and decided to do my best sprint to the finish. I can see it. Its right there! One last little climb and a whole lot of cheering, and its all over.
I crossed the last chip sensor and my first marathon was over. The nearest stranger and I look at each another, and just cry and hug for what seemed like five minutes. I think he was from Finland. I didnt speak his language and he didnt speak mine, but we understood each other perfectly. We were so proud of each other.
We all received our medals and our bags of food. I walk with all the finishers through Central Park. I remember wondering, then, if it was really supposed to hurt this bad? What did I just do to myself?
I dont think the pain is worth the finish, I think I said out loud.
We had no control of our legs. Just a bunch of penguins bumping into one another it looked like to me.
That night, I ate like Michael Phelps. Its great to have a good excuse to do that. I then took a long awaited Aleve and hoped that the next day, I wouldnt be so uncomfortable. Maybe one can Google the post marathon walk and get some good footage. There is no way to explain it, but it sure is funny to see.
I woke up early the next day, iced my knees for 20 minutes and started walking around the city. I think the secret is to get moving, keep moving and stay hydrated. Like life?
Later, I feel fully recovered with the exception of going down the stairs. Thats it! I feel like a million bucks.
The answer to the big question of whether Id do it again? Yes! I would do it again and I will. The best part is that in the next marathon, I can compete against myself, now that I have established a finish time of 4 hours, 54 minutes.
I love New York. I love New Yorkers. The minutes are indeed faster there.
May you finish all of your marathons, and Martha, may we be friends forever.
