Anyway, my day did not start well. First, my wife woke me in a panic at 5:20AM and said, "It's 7:30!" She had turned her clock forward instead of back that night. So that's not a good way to begin.
Then, even though they told us in several ways to bring a photo ID since we would be entering Fort Myer, I forgot to take one with me. I got on the bus at the Pentagon and as we approached the fort, the driver announced, "Get your ID's ready." So I'm panicking, hoping they'll be sympathetic to my stupidity. Well, there was a long wait before the bus could finally get to the gate so I guess the guards realized they needed to hurry things along. An MP got on board, asked the driver if everyone was picked up at the Pentagon. The driver said yes, the MP said "proceed" and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The staging area was very confusing. There were not enough signs to direct the runners. The big problem was the baggage area was all backed up. It got to about 5 minutes before the start and I was among a huge group of runners trying for about 20 minutes to check our bags. Finally (I guess it was like the fort gate), they realized they needed to hurry it up. So they let us in to put the bag where it belonged and find our spot. I caught up with my corral (corral D for runners with expected times between 3:30 and 4:00) just before they crossed the start line. So I started the race at about 2 minutes after the start. Since we were using the chips, that didn't matter much.
This by the way was what the start looked like.
I took a picture as we approached the start line. I was surprised that my first mile was not very slow. I'm used to the way the New York Marathon's first mile is a lot of fast walking.
At some point early on, the race photographer took this picture of me.
We were first led to the Pentagon and did a lot of running around it. I took some pictures of the damage done on September 11.
Finally they led us back north toward the starting area. Then it was over the Key Bridge into Georgetown, a run up into Rock Creek Park, back again, past the Watergate and Kennedy Center, then along Constitution Avenue and Madison Drive.
My family was waiting for me at 7th and Madison, at just past the 16 mile point. I told them I'd be there between 10:30 and 11:00. I showed up at 10:52. I realized about an hour earlier that it would be close and it was on my mind a lot for that period of the race. My family took some pictures of me.
We headed for the Capitol and I took a picture of it.
We then circled the Capitol. My friends Frank and Nancy were supposed to be watching somewhere around the Capitol but I never saw them. I found out the next day that they changed their minds and were watching from the Lincoln Memorial (approximately miles 14 and 21). But they were so warmly dressed, I didn't recognize them. And since I wore my name on my shirt, I can't tell if someone calling me actually knows me.
We then went along Independence Avenue and Jefferson Drive and then Independence Avenue again. At 7th and Jefferson (a little past the 19 mile mark), I was supposed to see my family again. But we had a mix-up and they weren't expecting me at the time I arrived (11:17). That was a big disappointment.
At the end of Independence (about mile 20.5), they took us around the Tidal Basin. By now I was pretty oblivious so I'm not sure if there were any good views of the Jefferson Memorial or the Lincoln Memorial. Then it was across the 14th Street Bridge, back down again to the Pentagon, and finally back up to the finish at the Iwo Jima Memorial.
My wife took a picture of the runners approaching the end. The arches were the starting lines, not the finish lines. The finish was about another 1/2 mile further.
Shortly after passing through the start arches, I saw the memorial. I took a picture of it. The memorial was actually much closer than the picture makes it appear (the camera apparently had a wide-angle lens). Here's a close up of the memorial in the picture.
Here's me approaching and then crossing the finish line.
My clock time was 3:54:23 and my chip time was 3:52:24.
Here's a picture of me after the race.
Additional thoughts... I heard the finish at the memorial is a killer. I heard the last 1/4 mile is a steep climb. I was dreading it the whole race but actually I didn't think it was too bad. And it did actually change to a slight downhill after mile 26 so I was able to kick it in at the end.
A lot of spectators called to me and enjoyed my shirt. Thank you for doing that. I know that by mile 20 (or even sooner) I did not have the energy to acknowledge the calls. I'm sure I also did not look too good. I was really tired for the last 1/3 of the race. I can't remember if I felt so tired at previous marathons. Maybe I'm getting old ;-) .
The finish area was a big mess. The big problem was that there were no family pick-up areas. Rumor had it that the balloons marking the areas were blown down. So why can't they come up with signs? There was no pick-up area. Lucky for me, I knew my wife had her cell phone. I borrowed someone's cellphone and called my wife. We came up with a landmark and met soon after.
So that's the story. I think the MCM is well run considering the number of runners (15000). But they need to improve the staging area. More signs would be good. And they need to more clearly mark the miles and have clocks at each mile marker (it's hard to check your pace when you're not sure where or if there are markers). I thought the course had too many "out and backs" and too often we ran the same stretch more than once. Of course every marathon has its shortcomings and logistical problems. New York is no exception. But I'm still hooked on NYCM and will continue to try to run it.
For more pictures of MCM, see Nancy Toby's website.
Another Washington area runner, Pierce McManus, ran both the NYCM and the MCM this year. Here is his account of both.
Five years ago, if you had told me I would have run two marathons in two weeks, I would have told you “you’re crazy!” Now when I mention in passing my recent accomplishment—running in this year’s Marine Corp Marathon and New York City Marathon on successive Sundays—I’m referred to as the crazy one. In reality, I’m not all that crazy. I’m just lucky.
To be perfectly honest, my fall marathon training was shoddy at best. My intense spring triathlon training regimen quickly faded following a half-Ironman in June, and a month spent traveling in Africa in August made training all but impossible. As September arrived and the fall marathons loomed, I cobbled together a workout schedule that emphasized quality over quantity. I continued to incorporate swimming and cycling into my training, and reaped huge benefits in terms of overall strength, quicker recovery times, and injury prevention.
Nonetheless, as the days passed, I was still skeptical about my preparation. As such, I devised a plan. Marine Corps was to be a training run in preparation for Marathon in the Parks (MITP). I anticipated a clean, well paced half-marathon and then a stealthy departure from the pack via a convenient Rock Creek Parkway exit. New York City was to be my last LSD before MITP. That was the plan anyway.
That plan began to change after running the eagerly endorsed Metric Marathon in Columbia, MD. After maintaining a 6:50 pace for the race and finishing strong, I realized that anything was possible if the conditions were right. If MCM was held under those conditions—a crisp fall morning—and if I felt well rested at the start and strong at the halfway point, I would have to seriously consider going for it.
(Note: “It” refers to the elusive sub-3:00 marathon or, at the minimum, a qualifying time for Boston.)
As MCM approached, I still made every attempt to downplay the event. While weather reports calling for a cool fall morn mildly piqued my interest, my anticipation took a giant-leap forward once I set foot in the race expo. It had been a year since my previous marathon, and I was quickly reminded why I truly love the sport. The electricity at the expo was palpable (to me, anyway) and both the intensity and shear joy exhibited by my fellow participants reminded me how truly special the event is and, more importantly, how lucky I was to be a part of it. Suddenly, I found myself taking this race very seriously.
That serious and somber, almost business-like tone, was shared by many of the race participants. As we lined the start, those gathering around behaved more like men and women on a mission, performing some sort of duty or getting ready to deliver on some promise made long ago. With the sound of the howitzer, it was time to get to work.
While I was lucid and focused the entire marathon, this year’s MCM, like races before it, was a blur. I saw friends cheering, I felt abdominal cramps, I slowed at mile 21, I questioned my ability to finish, I wondered what mile I was on, I questioned how I could have missed a mile marker. On and on and on…
And then it was over. The official clock said 3:04:25, but it could have been ten minutes for all I knew. It was a blur. And then it was over. The elusive sub-3:00 marathon was still elusive. On the positive side, I did set a PR and I did qualify for Boston. Not bad for a day’s work, I thought.
My biggest concern during the week between MCM and NYC was not about repeating my MCM performance. That was out of the question. My devastated quads, which had me hobbling about, saw to that. My biggest concern was would I be able to actually propel my body forward for another 26.2 miles. After years of trying, I had finally gotten into NYC and I was certainly not going to let two dead legs prevent me from running.
My quads kept me guessing til the end of the week. To kill the suspense, a two-mile jog around Central Park Saturday afternoon offered some reassurance. Some, but not a lot. My abdominals just ached and my legs felt so stiff. Oh well. I had taken care of business the week before. This marathon was strictly for fun.
The serious and somber tone of the MCM start was matched in some ways with that of NY. The only difference was a hint of that distinctly NY swagger and a sense defiant joy that danced across the sea of runners lining up in the shadows of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. It seemed to say, to shout really, “Hey! We’re still here!” in a hundred different languages.
Once again, the sound of a howitzer sent us on our way. Only this time I looked at people as I ran. I smiled. I laughed at the site of hipsters, Hispanics, and Hasidics lining the streets of Brooklyn, cheering me on, cheering us on as we snaked our way through New York’s wonderful neighborhoods. The energy of the crowds, in some spots 10-to-15 people deep, was awe-inspiring. I couldn’t help but keep repeating, “this is incredible!” to those around me.
The shared, symbiotic energy between the runners and the crowds carried me for the first half of the marathon. As I crossed the halfway point at 1:38, I realized that in all the excitement, I had probably gone out too fast. Seeds of doubt, as well as lactic acid and cramping arrived soon thereafter.
If I carry away one thing from the NYC marathon, it is the immense feeling of euphoric joy I felt once I set foot in Manhattan and made the turn onto First Avenue. I have never in my 31 years on this planet experienced anything quite like the overwhelming rush of ecstasy I felt at the site and sound of the tremendous, roaring crowd lining the thoroughfare. By then, my energy levels were already low, but for those two miles or so, I don’t think my feet even touched the ground. I know you’re supposed to look forward when you run, but during that stretch of the marathon, my head was on a swivel and I think made eye contact and exhanged smiles with upwards of ten thousand people. It was my endorphin-rush-crazed way of saying thank you for coming out and cheering us on.
With each passing mile, my pace slowed, my cramps increased, and the crowds seemed to thin. I found myself walking more and running less. Truth be told, I was tired.
With each passing mile, I realized that I was one mile closer to the finish. As Central Park loomed, the crowds reappeared, and my pace quickened. Through the park, out of the park, past the New York Athletic Club, around Columbus Circle, and there, there it is… the Finish!
3:38:23… a long 3:38:23, not the ten-minute blur that was the previous week’s effort at MCM. I was spent.
So was it fun, you ask? Was it a pleasure? Every minute of it.
So when people tell me I’m crazy for running two marathons on two consecutive Sundays, I chuckle and smile and shrug it off. I know I’m not crazy. In fact, what I am is lucky.
Very, very, very lucky.
And that’s something only a fellow runner would understand.
Sue Lingner of Massachusetts ran NYCM this year. Here is her report... For those of you who wish to have the facts and just the facts, here they are: I ran the NYC Marathon in 4 hours 8 minutes and 14 seconds from the start line to the finish line. That is what is called a “net time”. My official time (start GUN to finish line) was 4:08:31. Which just means that it took me 17 seconds to get to the starting line. This beats my personal best by 5 minutes and 6 seconds. I placed 8670 overall, 1533 out of women, and 748 in my age group. My average pace was 9:28 minutes per mile. I loved it all. I love New York, now, more than ever.
The facts people should stop reading here.
Now....for those of you who were looking for more details here goes.....
Disclaimer: The staggering unreliability of the human mind at high mileage made the research problematic. To avoid relying excessively on my own perceptions. I consulted course maps and descriptions on several occasions. When possible, I corroborated details with other accounts maintained by other runners and spectators whose clear thought wasn’t in such short supply. Readers familiar with the course may notice discrepancies between certain details (primarily matters of the time and place of certain events) reported in the initial interviews or those reported in the newspaper; the revisions reflect new information that has come to light since the day of the race.**
note: People often ask what has made me repeat the marathon experience. There are MANY reasons. I have tried to point out some of the moments that especially feed this new found addiction.
The New York City Marathon (AKA “Into City Air”)
I arrived on Thursday, three days before the marathon, in order to acclimatize myself to the City. On November 3rd, I went to bed at 8:30PM after setting 4 alarms for 4:00, 4:05, 4:10, and 4:15. I woke up after a surprisingly good night of sleep at 3:30AM anxiously awaiting those four alarms. After getting dressed and having coffee, Nick and I caught the 4:46AM bus to the metro stop and then took the metro to the NYC public library for about 5:15AM. I insisted on getting there early as the bridge closed to ALL traffic at 8:00AM. If I didn’t make the 8 o’clock deadline, I would be forced to turn around and go back home. My chances for this year would be gone. I had to make the 8:00 cut off! I was split from Nick by a big burly security guard who was checking to make sure that everyone who got on the bus had a race number. I was then sent on my way to the bus that would take me to the start line. The path was lined with volunteers all with wishes for “a great day”, “good luck” etc. I was bubbling over with excitement. I had tears in my eyes and it hadn’t even begun. I’m a flippin’ sap.
A man in his 50’s sat next to me. It would be his first marathon and he was hoping to finish in 5 hours. I told him that I initially signed up just for something to keep me motivated and because I really wanted to run New York. I said that I was hoping to just have fun. I mentioned the fact that everyone, including the New York Marathon web site had said that this was a hard course to think about a time goal on much less PR on....too many hills, too many turns...too many people...just run NY for fun...don’t set yourself up for failure etc. etc. So I just wanted....to be a part of it...(New York, New York...) All he really had to say about that was “There are hills?” I haven’t trained on ANY hills.” “I don’t think there will be hills.” I quickly said that maybe I was wrong. I didn’t want to scare him. I knew that there WERE hills but I didn’t think that fighting the issue would do either of us any good at this point. The bus ride was short. We passed near to “Ground Zero” and could see the smoke still rising up from the rubble and parts of the buildings still standing, a very sad sight.
Soon we were crossing the Verazzano Bridge. I noticed that the toll for crossing the bridge is SEVEN dollars. That’s highway robbery!!!!...literally. Off the bus we went and I was soon VERY glad that I had my sweat pants and sweat shirt on over my race attire. Fort Wadsworth was very cold in the early morning. I wandered around the start area...took a bottle of water from one of the hundreds of volunteers and sat down to eat the bagel that I had brought with me. They were giving out food but I had brought my own to avoid the chance of not being able to eat exactly when I wanted.
There were thousands of runners hanging around. There were photographers (50),dentists (148), politicians(12), C.E.O’s (330), waitresses(62), librarians (44), musicians (70), nurses(395), clergy (75) etc.etc. etc. all who had paid over a hundred dollars to be lead 26.2 miles through the five boroughs all on their own two feet. Thank goodness for the friendly UPS drivers who were hired to carry our gear to the finish line. I told a few people that I was looking for the other two runners who shared my last name. I needed something to keep me occupied for 3+ hours. I had written down their race bib numbers. I never did find them but I found out later that one of them crossed the finish just five minutes before me!
After I ate my bagel, I decided to wait for the portapotty for what would be the first of 3 visits each with 20 minutes to a half hour wait. I spoke to a few people but not many. There was a band playing some sort of latino music and I wandered over to see if I could find any of the Puerto Rican runners. I thought that I might know some from my year over there. I couldn’t find any. I checked my bag in the UPS trucks and eventually made my way over to my starting corral.
We were on the bridge about a 1/6 of the way up the incline at the beginning. There were three different starts. I had a pretty good position. I could see the elite women from where I was standing. They were actually running up and down the bridge warming up.....uggg, now THAT is endurance! It was exciting to be standing there. There were four press helicopters flying overhead. There were men standing way at the top tip of the cables that hold the bridge up. The police on the bridge said that they were snipers. Security was pretty tight. I heard later that they had run security checks on every runner and that the coast guard was patrolling the harbors. They also banned boats from being within 500 feet of the bridge and no private planes were allowed to fly overhead. The weather was perfect....sunny, not too warm, not too cold, hardly any wind (which I hear is rare for NYC)
Beware of this next statement...it may be more than you wanted to know....some may laugh...others may be offended. I decided to join the 20 or so girls around me in the “tradition” of peeing on the bridge. Everyone else was doing it and I thought “Better here than after the race starts.” Ok ,Ok...for those of you wondering, NO , I would NOT have jumped off the bridge if everyone else was doing that too. So ok then the mayor gave a speech, some guy sang God Bless America, doves of peace were released and the cannon was fired.
Mile One 8:53 After the start gun fired and I was immediately in motion (uphill). Just for a reference, I took me 7 minutes and 4 minutes to get to the start my two times in Disney. It took me only 17 seconds to reach the starting line in NYC. I was completely surrounded shoulder to shoulder by other runners on the bridge. It spread out a bit later, but there was no time in the race that I didn’t have four to five runners within three feet of me. The run over the bridge was incredible. The Manhattan sky line in full view. Still a great sight although tragically altered. Most of the runners just looked over silently. I couldn’t help but think of the thousands of dead bodies still right across the water from me. I felt very lucky to be alive and healthy enough to run a marathon.
Mile Two 8:45:34, Three 9:27:24, Four 8:50:95 Not too eventful...fairly flat. We ran by some rap singers who were making everybody throw their hands up in rhythm with the beat of the music. I thought that it was a good thing they weren’t standing at mile 25...they would certainly NOT have gotten such good participation from the runners! At one point, a stereo was blasting out Van Halen’s “Jump.”There was a lot of music along the course. I can’t remember it all now. I heard at least five other languages being spoken around me. New York City IS the place where the world comes to run!
Five 8:27:51(my fastest mile of the race) Can’t really explain why this was the fastest. I do remember thinking...”Just 1.2 miles and a whole bunch of people will know where I am thanks to the wonders of internet updates.” Maybe that sped me up.
Six 9:31:41 10K in .....56:09. I like to hear the sound of all the chips ringing when I pass over one of the sensor mats. For some reason that is exciting to me.
Seven 8:52:46, Eight, 9:12:75 We joined the people in the other starts at the 8 mile marker...a bit of a bottle neck. We had started ON the bridge. They had started down on flat land in Fort Wadsworth. For the first 8 miles, the men (green and blue starts) were running on the left side of the road and we were on the right. Only the median divided us. Sometimes I would look at their clock by mistake. I did that on the first mile and panicked thinking that I’d run it in 7 minutes instead of 9! Right before 8, we made a small detour and made up the missing mileage (I think about 2 tenths of a mile or less). Also, from 8 miles on is where the hills start.
Nine 9:06:06,Ten 8:40:33, Eleven 9:14:81, Twelve 9:03:82 Brooklyn went by very fast. Throughout Brooklyn I maintained an average of just over a nine pace. 9:03 at the 10k...9:04 at the halfway point. I was happy but I somehow knew that under four hours was not in the cards for me on this day (perhaps me “knowing “ that was part of the reason that it didn’t happen). I knew the course too well. I had read and reread every description that I could get my hands on. This was the easy part. The hills were coming...as was the impending glycogen depletion which was sure to slow my pace. I would have to maintain almost exactly this pace to break four. I just didn’t think it was possible. I decided to give it all I could and try to maintain as long as possible. We left Brooklyn at some point in here.
Thirteen 9:18:99 I seem to remember a hill around thirteen. Didn’t bother me. I guess the Pulaski Bridge was around here.
Halfway at 1:58:48 (9:04 pace) almost exactly when I crossed the half at Disney this year in January. There, I started to gradually fall apart after 13.1. Could I push it at this pace a bit longer this time? Turns out that I could. It turned out that at 20 miles, I was still at a 9:11 average, this is encouraging to me. I wasn’t even planning on doing that well. I’m still surprised by it.
Fourteen 9:07:20 (??could be a little off, I hit the button about four times), Fifteen 9:16:91.... I seemed to remember that this was one of the least populated areas spectator-wise. Runners were talking about what was coming...
Sixteen 9:37:77”...na na na na feeling groovy.....” The Queensboro Bridge (AKA “The 59th Street Bridge” ) I knew it was coming. I was ready. I had trained on hills WAY worse than this. But, everyone that I talked to had built it up. It was on a pedestal of sorts...the dreaded Queensboro.....for this, I feared its arrival. Actually, I felt powerful and strong on the bridge. I kept my pace. I thought of the Sisu sign on my back and was thankful for my strong Finnish genes. “I have SISU.” I said to myself....immediately laughing out loud at my goofy self congratulatory talk. Just then, I saw a girl with a Finland sign on her back. “Hey” I thought “There she is!!” There’s the girl that I wore this sign for.” She looked like she was suffering. I decided to charge ahead and run in front of her so that she could see the Sisu sign. I did. She said nothing, typical Finn. But, I am sure that she saw it and I like to think that it helped her. The bridge was a bit of a bottleneck too. I think that this slowed my pace a bit.
Upon reaching the middle of the bridge I heard a sound that I just couldn’t place...a roar....was it cars? water? a distant plane? the wind??...Then, all of the sudden ...oh my!!!! I placed the sound and a lump swelled up in my throat. I think tears may have welled up in my eyes too. (I’m a sap.) It was PEOPLE!!! It was the crowd on 1st avenue that everyone had talked about. As I ran they got louder and louder then finally, as I turned the corner on to 1st avenue I saw them...thousands of them screaming and cheering and waving their hands and smiling and even calling my name. I was smiling so much that I started to laugh, I mean actually laughing right out loud with tears running down my cheeks. It is something that I hope never to forget. (This is the stuff that feeds the addiction)
Seventeen 8:55:27 ...Eighteen 9:19:51(1st Avenue) These two miles went by like two minutes. The huge crowd went on for about two miles I guess. They didn’t let up on the cheering either. It was great. I saw Tom, Rich, Amy and Nick at this point. They seemed very excited. They were yelling and waving too. That helped.
Nineteen 9:34:69 Somewhere around here we crossed two bridges. One was the Willis Avenue Bridge, the other was the Madison Ave Bridge. Both were inclines. One had a red carpet put down for the marathon but one could still feel the metal grating underneath. I think one ends at mile 20 and the other ends at 21. These are the bridges that brought us into and out of the Bronx.
Twenty 10:18:47 At around twenty miles there was a guy on his porch with a Karaoke machine belting out New York New York with all the heart and soul that one could imagine. He was great. Somewhere in between 20 and 21 there was a huge sign “The Wall Can’t Stop Me.” They were right. It couldn’t!
Twenty One 9:33:62 Sometime after 21, A bad feeling in my sides started, kind of like cramps. Just a little... “nothing I can’t handle”... “they will pass”... “I can run through this”.....I trudge on...my pace suffers...
Twenty Two 10:11:06 “This is Harlem Sister!!!” “Come on Sue,you’re looking good girlfriend!” one women shouted. But this is where the trouble started. If I truly was “looking good” it was a miracle....The intestinal problem had worsened...I had never felt this before. Both sides of my abdomen were aching. The best I can explain is that it felt like someone reached into my intestines, filled them with cement and was squeezing them. Not sharp pain and not dull pain either...It was somewhere in between. I would take a deep breath in and the pain would go away for an instant then I would breath out and it would come back in full force. I stopped looking at the crowd. Absolutely consumed with my own extreme discomfort, I lost all focus...I stopped looking at my watch, I forgot to consider my pace. I was completely focused on trying to breathe. It hurt. I had no idea how to deal with this because I had never encountered it before. Too much Gatorade I thought and I took it too soon. I never drank it straight in training. I was trying to mix it with water but the aide stations were so congested. One loses time taking one cup...never mind trying to grab TWO cups. I was sloppy with what should have been a precision fluid replacement system. I heard some gospel singers....they were great...they lifted my spirits quite a bit. ..but the rest of Harlem was a complete blur. I had tunnel vision. I vaguely remember two sweet little girls with braided pigtails reaching out to me...I couldn’t give them the high 5 that they were looking for..I could only keep running....I couldn’t even smile....I wasn’t thinking straight. I think that i might have taken more Gatorade in Harlem...smart move. ......So “museum mile” was somewhere around here past Harlem???” I had no clue..They could have dug up the Statue of Liberty and placed it on the side of the road here and I would have missed it. The Queensboro was long past and so was my “feeling groovy”.... to top it off...miles 22 through 24 are composed of a fairly continuous incline. Nothing like adding insult to injury...I think that my mile splits speak for themselves......
Twenty Three 11:23:14, Twenty Four 11:23:68
I want to make perfectly clear that, in explaining the intestinal disturbance, I am not making excuses. I don’t think that I need to. I am only trying to make an accurate account of the events as they happened. The time I did is the time I was ready for. Period. There are no excuses. Who knows, maybe if I had not taken so much Gatorade, my legs wouldn’t have felt so strong at that point. There are so many variables to marathon performance. It’s all part of the mystique in my opinion. Won’t it be a fine day when I run THE ONE where every single detail comes together perfectly! I’m hoping that that search will keep me very healthy for a long time. I am officially taking the position of “happy with my finish line time” even though I am secretly disappointed thinking that I could have done better (this is the stuff that feeds the addiction). My estimation is that, without that problem, my time would have been between 2.5 to 3.5 minutes faster, maybe 4 but still not under four hours. I have decided to officially be “glad” that it happened even though I am secretly very frustrated that it happened when my legs felt that they could have pushed very hard at that point. I am “happy” that I learned a valuable lesson about Gatorade, during this marathon. This way, I go to my next marathon that much smarter. That much closer to THE ONE.
Twenty Five 9:56:95 Somehow...some way....the relentless gradual mile long incline seemed to have stopped the cramping.... but it was too late....if there WAS still a chance it was gone now...the coveted title of “a 3 something marathoner” would not be mine today. It was sucked into the agonizing blurry blinding vortex of NYC called Harlem. I pick up the pace in the park....I think that I started to feel better right before 24 miles because I remember feeling good when I saw Tom, Rich, Amy and Nick again and they said that they were a bit past the 24 mile marker, but it seems by the split times that I didn’t pick it up until 25. I think that my splits (well, me stopping them at the right place) got a bit sloppy in the park. Twenty Six 9:53:20 It was actually an UPHILL to the finish. Who made up this course??? None the less, 25 to 26 were great. To be honest I didn’t even notice a lot of the hills including the one at the end. But in rereading the course descriptions after running it, I realized that there were quite a few. The last two miles felt like they went by sooo fast! The spectators in the park were my favorite.I couldn’t believe how strong I was feeling. My legs held up tremendously well. My training REALLY paid off. I picked up the pace to cross the finish line.
I heard the announcer “Sue from Massachusetts is finishing. “Great job Sue.”
Talk about a crowded marathon! According to New York Times, six people crossed the finish line at the exact second that I did and 41 people in the surrounding ten seconds (4:08:26-4:08:36)
Crossing the finish line.....(this is the stuff that feeds the addiction) I lifted my arms and was absolutely giddy. I did it. A personal record on a course that, supposedly, didn’t hold such a possibility. Crossing a marathon finish line is an emotional rush like no other. I guess that is why for some...it’s a high worth going through months of grueling training in order experience just once more...just once more....and yep, just once more this June!!!! I signed up for The San Diego Rock-N-Roll Marathon in the middle of my training for New York.
As soon as I stopped running I started to feel a dizzy, achy, excruciating discomfort and fatigue. Who cared though, I was finished. I stumbled over to the “chip removal table” They removed my chip. It was official. Then I heard the medals clinking but there were too many people between me and those medals to see them. I slowly moved toward the sound. At this point I was crying...exhilarated, happy, sad....WAIT, let me rephrase that more accurately, SAD that it was over, happy that I finished my third marathon with a PR and just so plain utterly and totally exhausted and exhilarated all at once that it would be a sheer miracle if I were not crying. I’m a flippin’ sap. Someone handed me a bottle of water. I tried to reach for it with my right arm. “Hmmph, seems as though I can’t lift that arm.” “oh well, don’t really need that arm right now anyway.” Too tired to give that little detail a second thought. I took the water with my left arm. They handed me a medal and I placed it on my head with my left hand. I look down with a lump in my throat (this is the stuff that feeds the addiction).
After that I got my traditional Mylar blanket and a bag of food. I had NO desire to eat but I forced down a Power Bar and a fruit cup anyway...already thinking of June... “...must recover properly so I can start training again.”
I realized that I felt VERY bad. “...must keep moving.” “can’t sit, can’t sit” I knew that, without a shadow of a doubt, I had worked harder in those past 4 hours 8 minutes and 14 seconds than I have ever worked in my life. I felt proud. I thought to myself that if anyone ever woke up feeling the way I did then on the way to the UPS bus to pick up my things, that they would be quite sure that they were dying a terrible death and would go directly to the hospital. I felt no need to go to the hospital. I knew that it would pass. I relished the moment (this is the stuff that feeds the addiction). My step length must have decreased to about three inches at this point. It took all I had left not to just lie down on the pavement. I knew however that if I did, I would surely never get up again, never ever. “must keep moving....” “can’t sit...can’t sit” It is so weird that at one moment, you can feel like a running machine, charging to the finish, and in the next, you feel like the walking dead. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the UPS bus that held my bag. They got it very quickly and handed it to me. “Who is the “dumb idiot” that packed this bag??”, I said to myself “It must weight 100 pounds.” “Oh yea, it was me.” hee hee. Good thing that my right arm was coming back to life at this point.
After another eternity, I reached the letter L where my people were waiting for me. I felt brain dead. For those of you who have not experienced it, long run brain drain (as I like to call it) is a very peaceful yet numbing feeling. I was put on the phone immediately. It was very hard to put all my thoughts into meaningful, interesting and short summaries suitable for a long distance phone call as my head was still numb and spinning from the events of the day. But, since this report is being sent to the two people with whom I spoke, it should more than adequately fill in the gaps.
One last thought (and this goes out especially to my brother Tom)....
IT’S TIME TO ROCK-N-ROLL BABY!!!!!!!!
Thanks to all who were interested enough to read this whole LONG report. I REALLY appreciate your interest and support.
sue
**Who can identify the book from which this was altered to perfectly fit my story??