The Author at Mile 12 | Photo: Courtesy Anwar Ragep Private Collection
Guys, I had a really nice race this year. I shortened my traditional 12 week training program to 10 weeks, since I had always felt a bit “over-trained” in prior years. I’ll say that I wasn’t feeling particularly fast going into this year’s race (possibly a product of the truncated program). Because of this, and the fact that I would not be running with any friends this year, I decided to go in without any expectations for time. Instead, my goal was to just enjoy the experience, take in the city, the energy and the sights & sounds of the crowds.The week leading up to the race, I did not run a single step. I elected to visit the marathon expo on Saturday to pick up my bib, since a group with some runners from my club was also going to be doing a short run in the park that day. I brought my little guy along with me for the trip and he had an awesome time. A lot of “firsts,” were had by him that day. First time on the subway (took 5 different lines), first time in Central Park, and first time on an escalator.
My Little Dude’s First Time in Central Park
Walking up Central Park West from 53rd St was when I initially started to really get excited for the race. The sidewalk was shoulder-to-shoulder with people who had just finished NYRR Abbot Dash, which is a 5k held the day prior to the marathon, finishing at the same finish line. Many of the participants were international runners who were clearly in town for the main event. After meeting up with the group to say hi and take some photos (I did not run), the youngster and I headed over to the Javits Center to pick up my bib at the expo. It was there that I realized I had failed to select a transportation option to the start. Whoops!
Based on prior years, I knew that the 5:00 AM boat is mostly empty and in fact usually has a fair number of non-marathon people still making their way home after a Saturday night out. When my alarm went off at 4:00 AM Sunday morning (thanks to daylight savings, it only felt like 5:00 AM), I stumbled out of bed and into the shower for a quick rinse before applying some anti-chafe to the usual hot spots. I put on my gear, including some sweat pants and a pullover that Britt had picked up for me at the Roxbury thrift store for $6, made a quick coffee, and hailed an Uber to South Street. My driver was a very personable and animated Puerto Rican dude (judging by the flag hanging from his rear-view) with an amusingly thick accent. He deduced that I would be running the marathon based on my drop off destination and asked “you going to run, like, all 26?” I told him that was the plan. When he dropped me at the ferry terminal he wished me good luck followed with “first place, okay!?” I told him I would do my best.
A Crappy Cell Phone Photo of Midtown from the Williamsburg Bridge at 4:36 AM
The ferry crept away from its berth at South Street and started making its way across the nearly silent pre-dawn harbor toward Staten. As anticipated the boat was only at a fraction of capacity, the rows of benches were sprinkled with 80-100 eager marathoners and a there were handful of party kids staggering around in Halloween costumes. Over the PA one of the crew made the standard departure announcement, finishing with “have a good morning. Be safe, be safe, be safe.” It was very quiet on the boat as we glided past the Statue of Liberty. I took a little video for IG and noticed that we had been joined by a Coast Guard escort. We disembarked at the St. George Terminal in Staten and were greeted by volunteers cheering and clanging cowbells. I’m not sure if it was because I was mostly still asleep or what, but this made me feel kind of emo in an excited sort of way.
My fellow early birds and I made our way outside to the long line of busses queued up and ready to haul us along the final leg of the journey-before-the-journey. In prior years I have ridden a mix of different types of busses, from decked out chart liners, to well-worn school busses. This year, it was the latter. Each seat had a small construction paper cut out of a child’s name decorated in glitter. Enrique, was lending his seat to me that Sunday morning. I had a nice chat with a gentleman across the aisle from me, who was originally from LI, but doing his residency in the Carolinas. It was his second marathon but first time running NYC. He was excited for the race and I was excited for him!
Left: Sunrise over the Verrazzano | Right: Selfie from the Start Grid
Once I made it to the start village, much of the pre-race anxiety that I tend to experience dissipated. I began my pre-race routine: bagel, coffee, gatorade, bananna, more coffee, etc.., until it is time to wander to the far end of the start village to find an empty porta-potty and relax inside of it for a few minutes. With that out of the way I’m basically ready to roll!
As the sun rose over marathon start village, the temp was in the high 40s but it felt much warmer in the sunlight. There was not a single cloud in the sky. Standing in the start corral listening to all of the pre-race instruction, I stripped off my thrifted outer layer and put the items in the donation box. NYPD helicopters flew directly overhead in a low altitude formation giving me goose bumps right before the start cannon fired for the professional women. I, along with the rest of the Wave 1 crew made our way up the on-ramp of the bridge as the cannon fired again, this time for the professional men. My heart rate was quickening. It was our turn. I was right next to the start cannon when it’s thunderous roar signaled the start of Wave 1, through the loudspeakers came Frank’s voice crooning us with “New York, New York”. It. never. gets. old.
With my race underway, I reminded myself of my objective; enjoy the day. I was pretty cold and stiff as I made my way across the Verrazzano. We were flanked by news and police helicopters on either side. The weather continued to be perfect for running as I made my way into Brooklyn, finally having warmed up. My legs were starting to feel fresh and limber as we flowed through the streets of Bay Ridge. As I made my way into South Williamsburg, I started to get excited to my family and some friends. As anticipated, once on the north side of the W’burg Bridge, I started seeing some friendly faces. It’s incredible what this does for my motivation! I saw my main squad right before entering Greenpoint. I gave hugs and posed for a quick photo (thank you Anwar!!).
Family Photo | Photo: Courtesy Anwar Ragep Private Collection
I made my way up Manhattan Ave. toward Queens. By this juncture, my pre-race hydration was starting to bite me in the arse. I think that based on the fact my last couple of races were so warm, my sense of proper volume for prep hydration was thrown off. I don’t sweat nearly as much in 50 degrees as I do in 75. I knew that if I waited until I got to 1st avenue it was going to be a lot tougher to find a porta-potty, so I stopped right before the Pulaski bridge, where there was a nice bank of stalls and the crowd was not too dense. Having ditched all of that water weight, I charged through Queens, over the Q’boro bridge an onto First Ave. Hearing the roar of the crowd on First, as you come off the bridge is an experience in its own right. It’s like a shot of adrenaline.
I made it to the Bronx where I saw a good friend of mine handing out water at one of the stations. I gave a hug, drank the water and carried on to Harlem. By the time that I got to 5th Avenue I was starting to feel very, very tired. It was a nice little emotional energy boost to see some more friends along the way.
The Author on 5th Ave. Near Mile 25 | Photos: Courtesy M. Goodman Private Collection
Once I made it into the park, I felt like I was back on home turf; running a section of the west drive that I have done hundreds of times. This is also the point where I started to anticipate seeing B again. She typically cheers for me where the course spills out of the park onto 59th Street. I made my way through the segment lovingly known as “horse sh*t alley” and rounded the right-hander onto 59th to see my girl jumping and yelling my name. We exchanged double high fives before I lumbered toward the finish line, now only another mile down course.
There is a band rocking out on a huge stage positioned where the course turns north, back into the park. A rousing cover of Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer” blasted through Columbus Circle. I couldn’t help but pant along to the lyrics, embarking on the final 400 meters of tarmac between me and my free bag of pretzels, banana and orange poncho. I was basically side-by-side with some random dude as we transitioned from 59th Street back into Central Park. We ran together in this formation up the west drive. I saw the sign indicating only 200m to the finish, turned to him and said, “hey man, let’s kick!” He looked over at me, smiled and said “hell yeah, let’s go!” We both took it up a notch and “sprinted” the final 200 meters to the finish (gentleman in the orange seen pulling away from me here). We exchanged a brotherly high five after crossing the mats before doubling over to catch our breath.
Making my way through the post finish, the pain started to set in and I knew I was going to need some Advil ASAP. I reflected back on the day and concluded that I had, indeed, very much enjoyed my race. Massive THANK YOU to Britt for all of the support during training and for being such an amazing cheerleader!