Notes
NYC Marathon, written 3 days post
I was encouraged to enter the lottery last year. My mother had passed away just 4 months prior to the lottery, following a 2 ½ year battle with lung cancer. Mom had become a fitness runner in her mid-late 30’s. During her illness, Mom suggested to me that I should run NYC. At that point I was a 2-3 time per week 20-30 minute treadmill fitness runner-maybe.
I’m In(I was picked in the lottery). I’m in over my head. How am I going run a marathon? My year has been up and down with running. I was just a newbie runner and I suffered a hip injury in late Feb during a 10 mile race that eventually stopped me. That injury left me without an exercise outlet as my shoulder required surgery as well. I underwent an Anterior capsulorraphy/Posterior capsulorraphy and Type 2 SLAP repair. Two months of no running. I started running again 18 weeks before NY while also trying to rehab my shoulder.
My training went well. My expectations evolved from just finishing, to sub 4 hour, to sub 3:40. My mileage was limited by a late start on training. Fortunately everything seemed to be coming together. A few fall tune-up races really helped my confidence. I had even hoped to write the tale of Zero to BQ in 18 weeks.
We splurged on a hotel overlooking Central Park South. My mother and step-dad really liked this place. They often stayed here when visiting the city. Plus it was close to the finish-less than a mile. Mom grew up, in and around NY. Despite moving away in the early 70’s, she would always be a New Yorker.
We flew in Friday and hit the expo, gawked at the running legends and thousands of runners. They seemed to be from everywhere. Saturday we ran in the park. I passed Pete Rea from Zap running with Alissa McKaig. We exchanged some quick introductions and well wishes. I tried to visualize the end of the race while we explored the finish area. We also did a timed test trip from the hotel room to the Public library via the subway for the next days’ bus ride to the Staten Island staging/start area.
Race Day Hey, thanks for waking me up at 3am. The hotel forgot to set their clocks back for the end of Daylight Savings. I tried to fall back asleep. We ate in the room and left about 4:20am for our 5am bus. We could have waited. I think we were at the staging area by 5:30 in 40F chill. Our start was 9:40. The scene eventually looked like a refugee camp. Most people were appropriately bundled in layers of throwaway clothes. They were milling about or laying on the grass in or outside of very large open tents. I found a spot to lay down inside. Within an hour it was a sea of bodies with no practical way to pass through. The hum of Italian, French, Spanish, German, and other languages added to the excitement. Everyone was courteous with few complaints. Porta-potties and food/drink were easy to access. At 8:10 we left a bag with a sweatshirt and hat for the finish area. We entered our corrals shortly before they closed at 8:55. Once inside there were again many porta-potties for last minute business.
The start didn’t seem worse to me than either of the 2 big races I was in this year. The numbers of runners made me a bit fidgety on the opening mile. I tried desperately to talk myself from running too fast. I could not resist running to pass thousands down into Brooklyn. I knew that I had just blown my race with a 6:42 and was wondering when I would have to begin paying. The neighborhoods were out in force cheering. Their warm and generous spirit moved us along. We seemed out of place along the Hasidic section. I clicked off the miles and was well ahead of my 3:25 pace band. Banking time was not the goal. I am too inexperienced and uncontrolled as a runner. It just happened.
I had not planned on the frequency of water/Gatoraide stops-each mile. It became a little overwhelming without a pre-race plan. I don’t think hydration became an issue for this race but I did lose track of when I did or did not take liquid. I spaced 3 gels and a pack of chomps through the race. With plenty of pre-race food, I do not think nutrition was an issue.
I was clicking off sub 7:40’s. Damn I can’t slow down and run behind anyone. I was hoping for 7:50’s. I was gaining a little false confidence. “I feel great.” Perhaps too pumped from the roaring crowds. Only a brief porta-potty break during the 8th mile slows my pace. Then Kristen shouts from right behind me. We are confused about who caught who. Believing that I started behind her we both assume that I have caught up. She appears concerned, maybe just focused. I don’t want to ask about her injuries. I am just happy as we run together for about 4 miles. She is running strong and drifts ahead of me after 13.1 and I let her go. She looks good and I think I am a distraction. Plus I can’t keep up.
My false hope leaves me. I start to slow on the Pulaski Bridge. My legs are fatigued leading into Long Island City and mile 14. My first 8:00 since the start. I start to calculate my required pace for a 3:25 and a 3:30 for the remaining 12 miles. I see a huge sign for us from Pat. I dash over and say hi with a quick handshake. The Queensboro Bridge is much longer and steeper than I expected. Now without spectators, many stretch or slow to a walk. Who figured we would feel Haile’s pain?
We begin the 1st Ave 3.5 miles to roars. I think a 10 mile finishing pace to beat 3:30 is still possible. But my legs fail to respond. I am working hard to hold sub 8:20’s. Before leaving Manhattan for the Bronx after mile 19 I am in real pain. My groin and quads are depleted. My gait is short and stiff. Pain is the theme from this point on. I feel desperate as a 3:30 pacer goes by after 20 miles. Crowds are making the passage more narrow and I cream a pedestrian. Perhaps an exaggeration at my current speed. My eyes are too blurry, math gets trickier. We re-enter Manhattan. 5.2 miles remain. I am desperate to finish and yet I mount a small charge when another 3:30 pacer glides through.
I fear seeing 10’s on my watch for splits. I want to walk but resist. I have a clear picture in my head of my father. It’s from his only marathon attempt on an unseasonably hot fall day in 1983 on Presque Isle. He was pulled off the course near 23 miles while staggering and confused. I am determined to finish. I am aware that my thinking is becoming clouded. Little distance remains. We snake into the park and back out onto Central Park South towards Columbus Circle before re-entering for the last 1/3 mile. I can’t look up. I can’t focus. With every step I am in awful pain and want to walk. It’s not even the spectators that push me to continue. I fear that if I don’t run that I won’t finish.
The Finish I can see it and I am driving as hard as I can. I grab my visor and sunglasses from my head and look up towards the cameras while crossing both timing strips. 3:36:11 when I reach to stop my watch . Official time turns out to be 4 seconds better. I am only partially relieved to finish. I have an impending sense of doom. I’m in bad shape but I won’t admit so much to the volunteers. Despite their repeated questioning I say ‘I’m OK’. I’m not. My speech is garbled, my mouth and lips are tingling and getting worse. I blame my stumbling on cramps-a lie. I am encouraged to keep walking but can barely shuffle along. I start shivering horribly. The Mylar blankets really help. I am given a food bag but I need help opening it. With some advise from other runners I eat the Power Bar and apple and drink. I can’t keep pace with the shuffling crowd but I continue to the UPS baggage truck. My Dunkin Doughnut hat and my ratty sweat shirt help immeasurably. I use the blanket now as a skirt. The hotel seems so far away-little do I realize.
I shuffle out of the park. Slowly I move down Central Park West towards Columbus Circle. When I reach it I am told I cannot cross. I must backtrack to cross. As I reach the next intersection the police close it due to traffic tie-ups. I must go another block up. I nearly break into tears but instead get pissed off. A good sign of recovery. I reach my hotel room nearly 2 hours following my finish. It ended up a 2.3 mile walk. I greet my father and his wife when I reach the room. They are excited to have me complete what he had not. I am a lucky man.
Tuesday, just 2 days following the race. My quads are not ready but otherwise I feel 100%. The city has been great. We go for a walk into Central Park. At the bridge over the pond, near the ice rink we stop. It’s a pretty spot and we can see our hotel. We reflect on Mom for a little. I take a portion of my mother’s ashes and place them near the pond.