Diary from the New York City Marathon
Well I may not be Justin Bieber, but I know what it’s like to be cheered on by 2.3 million fans, getting offers of high fives and screams of encouragement. This is because I ran the New York City Marathon last year, and I can honestly say that it was one of the best days of my life.
Win a Lottery, Run a Marathon
It all started four years prior, when someone in a running group I was in mentioned their experience at the NYC Marathon. They told me that, unlike many of the other massive landmark marathons of this size and profile (i.e. Boston) you do not require a qualifying time to be eligible. I mean, if you're super fast you can get in on pure talent (and I’m telling you right now that I will never be one of those kinds of entrants), but the rest of us road runners just have to be lucky. Really lucky. There's a lottery to determine who gets in and every year about 20% of the Canadian applicants who entered won the opportunity to run the 42k.
Staten Island: Nervous energy permeated the air as people filled every patch of grass and piece of concrete; Yellow school buses spaced evenly apart crawled past carting runners to the start line; Bathroom lines ran half a KM long; Smiles on faces; Laughter in the air; A sense that something big was about to happen.
Me and my new friends made our way to our respective corrals which are assigned based on your expected finish time. I assumed that I would finish somewhere in the middle of the pack which meant that I should be making my way to the start line. But the thought of standing in a cattle-like pen for longer than I needed to waiting in the frigid air for the race to begin was somewhat unappealing, so I stretched and chatted with the girls until the last possible moment.
The next hour and a half was spent wading through thousands of runners in snail-like fashion, as the sweat dried and the cold crept in. I finally found my things and my parents in all of the madness and we made our way back to the hotel. On the subway, wearing my medal, I got appreciative looks and congratulations all around.
Dinner that night in Tribeca was the best of my life I am convinced. Pizza and pasta and wine and dessert and I could eat it all without a single worry about reigning it in.
My dad left the next morning and my mom and I spent the day shopping and sightseeing. Shopping for souvenirs was big business, the line to get finisher jackets an hour long. The whole experience was such a good time and it feels so good to finish that you just want to have physical proof that it happened. A jacket, a hat, anything that will recall that day and encourage a passerby to comment on it. Because you can’t wait to tell everybody that wants to know how amazing it really was. And then of course, what other marathon in the world has an entire case in Tiffanys devoted to race memorabilia. I had to treat myself to a Tiffany's apple in memory of the day.
I could barely walk up and down stairs, but looking around I was not alone as it seems every other finisher was doing the same thing. I would nod at them in recognition and we would share heartfelt congratulations as we passed each other. I was hesitant to wear my medal, but when I saw everyone else at the runner's expo wearing theirs proudly, I decided it couldn't hurt. This resulted in us being served free champagne at lunch and being congratulated by complete strangers all day. We basically got to be superstars for the day.
If you ever get a chance to run the NYC marathon, take it. You really are a lucky one if you get the chance. It was such a great experience that my parents and I will remember fondly for years to come. New York was at its shiny best and in moments like this it really is the best place on earth!
There is however a third way to get in, and that requires applying three consecutive years in a row and being unlucky each time. This guarantees your entry for the fourth consecutive year. My patience and diligence in applying each year paid off and I was on the roster for the 2011 race.
Nothing was Gonna Stop Me
I started training in March for the November race. By June the tendinitis that I often have bouts of in my hip and my ankle had flared to the point of me having to take a long hiatus from training and to make regular visits to my chiropractor to graston the heck out of my body (metal instrument that is aggressively massaged into your tight/injured body parts to break down formed scar tissue). I left these sessions black and blue and frustrated as nothing seemed to be working. But miraculously by October I felt neutral enough after therapy, lots of hot baths and an inordinate amount of stretching to start training again.
As the day arrived excitement and nerves amped up the adrenaline in my system. If that didn’t carry me through the run, I had a back-up plan of Advil and Traumeel cream (and of course the promise of lots of recovery time afterwards).
My mom and I drove up the Friday before and I was a nervous wreck. I’m not sure why the marathon causes these nerves to bubble up. It’s not like you’re being judged by anyone. There are 47,000 runners in the NYC marathon and I’m sure no one would notice if one petite Canadienne backed out at the 10K line.
My mom and I drove up the Friday before and I was a nervous wreck. I’m not sure why the marathon causes these nerves to bubble up. It’s not like you’re being judged by anyone. There are 47,000 runners in the NYC marathon and I’m sure no one would notice if one petite Canadienne backed out at the 10K line.
But for weekend road warriors like me, the accomplishment is in reaching the finish line. I know lots of people say that getting to race day is the true prize, because after logging all those miles to train for the big day, you truly have accomplished a lot. Yet there is always this fear that you won’t finish and you’ll hit the infamous “wall” that apparently no one can see coming (you never run the full marathon distance when training so it’s hard to say how your body will react when you’ve been going all out for 30k and still have another 12 to go). Then you hear about those people whose bodies can’t handle it and get seriously and sometimes fatally injured. And there are always those that bring up the rear, yellow school bus nudging them along. And you just hope to whatever you hope to that it isn’t you (thought of course that would be totally fine!).
One of the best parts of race weekend is feeling like you can eat absolutely anything you want. I mean you don’t want to go crazy the night before and eat anything that will up the ante on “runner’s gut” but you can go all out on carbs without a second thought, which these days is a bit of a fantasy proposition. My Dad decided to surprise me and let us know that morning that he was driving up for race day, so he arrived shortly after dinner.
One of the best parts of race weekend is feeling like you can eat absolutely anything you want. I mean you don’t want to go crazy the night before and eat anything that will up the ante on “runner’s gut” but you can go all out on carbs without a second thought, which these days is a bit of a fantasy proposition. My Dad decided to surprise me and let us know that morning that he was driving up for race day, so he arrived shortly after dinner.
After laying out my full outfit, all conceivable layers, gadgets, energy gels, music machine, belts, and money accounted for on my pre-planned and researched race day outfit list I was ready for an early bed to ensure that a 4:30 wake-up call was achievable. I slept just as well as a kid waiting for Christmas morning, so not well and not much.
One of the Best Days
And then it was race day. Bananas and bagels and what seemed like gallons of water later and I was in a cab to the ferry dock. It was bloody cold. Taking the ferry with thousands of other runners: adrenaline spiked air; crisp fall morning; floating past the Statue of Liberty. It was quite an intense boat ride. I made a few friends on the boat who kept me company when we arrived on Staten Island.Staten Island: Nervous energy permeated the air as people filled every patch of grass and piece of concrete; Yellow school buses spaced evenly apart crawled past carting runners to the start line; Bathroom lines ran half a KM long; Smiles on faces; Laughter in the air; A sense that something big was about to happen.
Me and my new friends made our way to our respective corrals which are assigned based on your expected finish time. I assumed that I would finish somewhere in the middle of the pack which meant that I should be making my way to the start line. But the thought of standing in a cattle-like pen for longer than I needed to waiting in the frigid air for the race to begin was somewhat unappealing, so I stretched and chatted with the girls until the last possible moment.
Unfortunately I didn't realize that there was a cut off time for getting into your pens, and I missed my group. They were still there, they had just been ushered into a section inaccessible to everyone else. The security guards meant big business and wouldn't let me anywhere near.
I was able to get into the next wave, and finally found myself 200 metres from the start line. As the minutes counted down on the giant digital clock above our heads people started throwing their winter clothes into massive heaps on the side of the road, goodwill ambassadors on the ready to bag them for charity. And then the start gun sounded and we were off...to an impressive crawl. It took about ten minutes to advance to the actual start line and then we were off running.
The Whole of the Big Apple...On Foot!
The NYC marathon travels through all five Burroughs of the city: Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and the Bronx. Each one connected by a bridge, the first of which we climbed directly after the start line. Arriving in Brooklyn is awesome. The streets are literally lined rows deeps with New Yorkers cheering at the top of their lungs and treating you like you are something special. Little kids line up with their hands in the air, hoping for a high five and jumping up and down excitedly when you give it to them.
And then there is the sound of music. From almost every street corner there's a small band, or a massive speaker system, belting out songs that keep one foot in front of the other. I had an entire 5-hour play list made for the run and I didn't turn it on once. There was so much else to distract me. Between grabbing water, giving high fives, pounding pavement to the beat of the drum and people watching, the first 30 k breezed by.
The Wall
But then the incline of the fourth bridge and the increasing pain I was feeling in my feet started to slow me down. I always have problems with my feet falling asleep, but this was really bad. They. were. in. pain! But as soon as I thought it was a little tiny bit unbearable, I noticed a sign on the back of one of the runners in front of me that read "Your feet hurt because you're kicking ass". Suddenly the pain was no longer a problem. And with so many people rooting for you, and frankly watching your every step, it's really hard to stop. I met up with my parents twice along the route and they were surrounded by a group of people that all cheered me on as a I came over to say hi which gave me that extra boost.
The race committee did save the best for last however. The long and steady incline up the side of Central park for the last 5ish KM is excruciating. I actually contemplated pulling one of the volunteers over and saying "Really? Seriously? This is the part they choose for the last five KM? Is it almost bloody over?" But I resisted and kept going, now spurred by my stopwatch that indicated that I might just be able to pull off making it to the finish line under my goal time.
As we entered central park the crowds got thicker and the pace picked up. The long and windy route to the finish line was both horrendous and euphoric. When we rounded a corner at the top of the park the finish line archway, the stands filled with fans, and the massive video screen pumping out pictures of ecstatic and exhausted runners sprinting their final 100 meters came into view. And then it was me on the screen. And then I was done.
The race committee did save the best for last however. The long and steady incline up the side of Central park for the last 5ish KM is excruciating. I actually contemplated pulling one of the volunteers over and saying "Really? Seriously? This is the part they choose for the last five KM? Is it almost bloody over?" But I resisted and kept going, now spurred by my stopwatch that indicated that I might just be able to pull off making it to the finish line under my goal time.
As we entered central park the crowds got thicker and the pace picked up. The long and windy route to the finish line was both horrendous and euphoric. When we rounded a corner at the top of the park the finish line archway, the stands filled with fans, and the massive video screen pumping out pictures of ecstatic and exhausted runners sprinting their final 100 meters came into view. And then it was me on the screen. And then I was done.
I have never felt such an immense rush of accomplishment. I smiled and I cried...a smidgen (no one noticed. it was over in a flash ;)). It was just such an amazing and overwhelming feeling to be done and to have experienced all of the amazing things along the route. And I made it at just under a minute under my goal time. Right in the middle of the pack as predicted. Which also secured a spot on the list of runners in the New York Times!
The next hour and a half was spent wading through thousands of runners in snail-like fashion, as the sweat dried and the cold crept in. I finally found my things and my parents in all of the madness and we made our way back to the hotel. On the subway, wearing my medal, I got appreciative looks and congratulations all around.
Core Memory Made
My parents said the experience watching was awesome. The crowd was jovial and after visiting New York on multiple occasions, they said they’d never felt such a unifying and energizing spirit in the city. In Toronto, residents grumble whenever a Marathon day falls upon them. Complaining about street closures and inconvenience, whereas in New York it seems to be an event that the city really rallies around and they make you feel so welcomed. I mean I’m sure there are New Yorkers that are fed up with the whole thing, but they certainty made themselves scarce for race weekend which was great.Dinner that night in Tribeca was the best of my life I am convinced. Pizza and pasta and wine and dessert and I could eat it all without a single worry about reigning it in.
My dad left the next morning and my mom and I spent the day shopping and sightseeing. Shopping for souvenirs was big business, the line to get finisher jackets an hour long. The whole experience was such a good time and it feels so good to finish that you just want to have physical proof that it happened. A jacket, a hat, anything that will recall that day and encourage a passerby to comment on it. Because you can’t wait to tell everybody that wants to know how amazing it really was. And then of course, what other marathon in the world has an entire case in Tiffanys devoted to race memorabilia. I had to treat myself to a Tiffany's apple in memory of the day.
I could barely walk up and down stairs, but looking around I was not alone as it seems every other finisher was doing the same thing. I would nod at them in recognition and we would share heartfelt congratulations as we passed each other. I was hesitant to wear my medal, but when I saw everyone else at the runner's expo wearing theirs proudly, I decided it couldn't hurt. This resulted in us being served free champagne at lunch and being congratulated by complete strangers all day. We basically got to be superstars for the day.
If you ever get a chance to run the NYC marathon, take it. You really are a lucky one if you get the chance. It was such a great experience that my parents and I will remember fondly for years to come. New York was at its shiny best and in moments like this it really is the best place on earth!
Comments