The marathon is over! On Sunday, Nov 2nd I finished all 26.2 miles of the ING NYC marathon in 4h49m49s putting me at an overall pace of 11:03 minute miles. I went in thinking I would finish somewhere between 5hrs and 5h30 so I was pretty pleased with this time. Now for all the details…
THE DAY BEFORE
The night before was a little stressful. Day before was fine. Got up fairly early despite a late night out on Halloween (no alcohol though, obviously). Lauren and I grabbed brunch at Sarabeth’s up in the Upper East Side at 92nd and Madison (I think). I knew I was supposed to be carbo loading, but I really wanted a gruyere and leek omelet, and considering it came with a massive English muffin and I’d already had some carbohydrate powder mix, well that’s what I got. So brunch was nice (aside from a really annoying young family whose nasally voiced father insisted on bringing his daughter’s bike inside an already painfully crowded restaurant entryway). Near to the park, we walked down towards the reservoir and peered out across the water. Runners were everywhere, and I had a strong inclination to get up and start jogging too. I was technically scheduled to do a 3.2k run, but for some reason my right quad was really tight, and well I didn’t want to push it so I decided to hold out for the big day.
Jeff then called and we decided to meet up before my parents got into town at 5ish. Lauren and I were nearby his apartment at 89th and Lex, so we were going to walk there but first we passed by the Guggenheim at 90th and the park. We had been talking just then about hitting up some museums later that week, so we decided to check out the opening times for reference. Except there was some cool photography exhibit going on by Catherine Opie, an exhibit that Lauren had already read some good things about. So of course we wanted to go in then. We called up Jeff and luckily he was in for it too, and 30 minutes later we all met up outside and headed in. I’ll spare the details on the exhibit for maybe another post, but it was most certainly multifaceted. Some I didn’t care for much, but the photographs of icehouses…yeah I don’t really have adequate words for how amazing and silent and intense and beautiful they were.
Post Guggenheim, we sat out front of the museum, admired the autumn hues of the trees across the street, and sipped tea. It was a warm fall day that smelled of just-brisk air and crushed leaves, and I certainly didn’t feel like moving at all, and the idea of moving 26 miles the next day… well it was unfathomable.
Eventually Lauren parted ways with Jeff and me, and the two of us went to Gray’s Papaya to grab juice and hot dogs. Well Jeff did at least. I was still good from massive breakfast, although the bite I had of his hot dog was pretty damn delicious. More walking around, and relaxing until my parents finally arrived in the city. Which is about when things got stressful.
Not that my parents aren’t great. They obviously are, or they wouldn’t have a) paid for my ticket to come to NYC and see them and run the marathon or b) driven 7 hours to NYC c) rescued my dog when I unexpectedly expatriated in January d) moved all of my belongings from Texas to their house, e), f), g)….. Point though is that suddenly them being in town signaled ‘forget leisurely stroll past the Central park reservoir or slow brunch or lying around all day’ and ushered in ‘holy shit. marathon TOMORROW MORNING.’ which left me stressssssssssssed out out out.
MARATHON EVE
Around 6:30 or something the folks arrived in front of Lauren’s at 91st and 2nd and naturally with no parking to spare and me needing to drag down a year’s worth of belongings from a 5th floor walk up… well yeah, bring it on. My dad parked my car illegally at the corner in a way that made it look like he was about to turn the wrong way down 2nd avenue and finally I got to give him a hug. Which was too long delayed (I hadn’t seen him since Christmas) and too long delayed (too much time to get the car out of the way of traffic). But hazards flipped on and parking rules thrown out, hugs and kisses were traded, and my mom and I trucked up the four flights to Lauren’s apt.
She wasn’t there, still being out with her boyfriend Brick, but luckily her roommate Melissa was. We hastily stuffed the entrails of my exploded suitcases back in, and hobbled our way back down to the car. At which point I was already exhausted, and starving, and stressed. And at which point my father decided he must make a vocal note of anything of any level of interest on the street. E.g., ‘look how funny it is that they hold out their arm to get a taxi!’. Which was annoying since I felt like they were purposefully playing up the country-bumpkin-comes-to-the-big-city! spiel. I mean when I was growing up my dad spent a lot of time in Europe for business and thus had been in a metropolis before… and yeah as I already mentioned my nervousness was manifesting into testiness… Anyway. We’re down at 70th when I realize I left the one thing I really need for tomorrow (aside from my running shoes)—my race number and chip. Erg. So we turn back towards Lauren’s and now I’m getting really hungry and frustrated. It’s past 7 and I need to be up at 5 and I still have to find some pasta to eat and prep all my stuff for the morning.
Finally finally finally we get to the hotel and get my stuff upstairs. Instantly I feel 100% better and more relaxed. Especially because we’ve spotted an Italian place about a block away that looks promising for food. We head immediately over there and almost instantly get a table. I order up basic fettucine with tomato sauce and start inhaling bread. Good. Pasta comes. It’s not particularly good, but I don’t care and eat all of it. I’m full of carbs and in much better shape for the am. We head back to the hotel (which is fantastic by the way—a suite with a closed off living room and kitchen area) and I start to prepare all my things for the morning: Pin racing tag to jersey. Fix chip to shoe. Fill marathon drop bag with Vaseline, gloves, hat, powerbars, sodium tablets. Charge ipod. Set clocks back one hour. Calm down.
My parents kindly give me the master bed to myself and sleep on the pull out couch instead—an act of parental love which I massively appreciate. I fixate more on nice afternoon out with Jeff than the upcoming morning and manage to fall asleep.
MARATHON MORNING
I’m woken up at 4am by our automated hotel wake up call. This is annoying because I wanted to get up at 5am, but the wake up call system apparently didn’t get the memo about the time change (even though we specifically asked if it would the night before). Luckily I kind of fall back asleep until around 5:15am when it’s actually time to get up. I throw on my racing gear and eat a packet of oatmeal. I feel surprisingly ready to go. Our hotel is still cold (no heat...) and I’m just ready to get out of there. Everything is ready so we all head out the hotel at 5:50am and try to hail a cab. Before I had even thrown up my hand, one has already stopped. Excellent. Within 15 minutes we’re at the Staten Island Ferry, and way early for my scheduled 6:30am ferry departure. The ferry terminal is swarming with runners. The line to a coffee and bagel shop is about 40 people deep. Same for the restrooms. We look identical. Bundled up in old sweats and sweatbands, sitting on the floor with our tennis-shoe clad feet stretched out, staring off into space while quietly eating a bagel/a cliff bar/a banana and sipping coffee or Gatorade. I find out that it’s not actually a big deal to switch ferries (despite having been threatened at all previous marathon communications to not do so) and decide to wait until the 7am ferry so that I can join up with my fellow Team African Leadership Foundation teammate, Brian Kane. The 6:30 ferry departs and the line for coffee is suddenly truncated so I send my mom in for a cup of caffeine and a bagel. After a few minutes she’s back. I throw the bagel in my clear plastic bag that I’ll bring with me to the staging area, and tentatively ingest some coffee.
Then Brian and co. show up. Good, a familiar face. He’s wearing a ‘borrowed’ ALA track suit, and I am damn jealous that I didn’t think to grab one too. I’m just wearing my racing gear, and a throw-away long sleeve shirt and hoody. His friends are nice although they’re slightly intimidating as they all look fast. But whatever, I just want to finish this thing. Soon it’s time for our ferry and I’m giving bye byes to the mom and pop and we’re off.
The sun is rising over the water and I try to focus on that instead of the fact that 38,000 of us are congregating on Staten Island to run all the hell the way back to Central Park via the circuitous way of 5 boroughs, one of which we get to run twice. The ferry ride is good. I meet an older woman calmly pinning her number to her jersey. She asks where I’m from, I say Philly via Johannesburg. She, as most people seem to, finds this genuinely interesting We chat some more. I ask if she’s run this race before. She slowly takes a safety pin from out of her mouth, sets it in her lap. She turns her head to look around, looks down, then cautiously brings her eyes to mine and whispers alongside an outstretched palm: ‘this is my 15th time’. Wow.
I can see the Statue of Liberty from outside the ferry window. I kind of want to jump up and check it out since I’ve never seen it before, but figure… eh, it’s time for the marathon now.
STATEN ISLAND STAGING
We arrive Staten Island and collectively decide on a bathroom break before boarding the bus to take us to the staging area. The portapotties are conveniently located at the front of a very long bus line, and it’s just damn cold and windy enough that we decide to cut to the front of the line. Maybe not so ethical, but based on the windchill factor, a smart move. We’re instantly on the bus and on our way to the staging area.
We’re dropped off and step back out into the cold. The trees are alive with reds and yellows and the houses alongside the entryway are traditional Americana and still proudly adorned with Jack-o-lanterns and artificial cobwebs. I want a cup of hot cocoa and a fleecy blanket and a hay bale to sit on. Instead we joke and walk on. The plastic bag Gestapo is suddenly upon us—we’re NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE NON-AUTHORIZED BAGS OF ANY MANNER ON OUR PERSON except those they’ve given us at the expo that have our bib number affixed to the outside. Backpacks are seized as are CVS and WholeFoods branded plastic sacs. We’re non-perpetrators so we’re quickly let in. Now for the logistics.
So NYC marathon is testing out new start logistics this year: three waves and three colors to help ease congestion at the start. I’ve reported a slower expected finish (read, not under 3:30) and have been assigned to the third wave. Brian and his friends Jeff and Pete are in the first wave. Friend of friend Nick, is in the third wave with me. Now the waves signify different start times: Wave I at 9:40am (yeah.. we are all DAMN early thanks to official transportation), Wave II at 10:00am, Wave III at 10:20am. Got it? Good. So regardless of your wave, you also get a color of orange, green or blue which signifies your start area. Which have different routes (kind of) until they all merge at mile 8. Which means you could be an orange wave I (like Jeff and Pete) or an orange wave III (like Nick and me) or a green wave I (like Brian). Which matters because you line up in different areas. But considering it was now only 8:00am and we all had a long time to spend in the cold, well we hung out together in the orange area. Right in front of the portapotties. Not scenic, but practical. Especially as we all went to the bathroom at least 2 more times. (Nerves.) Now time to grease up. Vaseline on toes, lips, and places I won’t mention. Then more carbs. I went for the bagel I’d stashed from earlier and more of my carbo powder drink. Then came the announcement for Wave I to line up. I bid Brian adieu and good luck and he went off to the green area. Then the other guys went to line up in orange (Nick decided to sneak into Wave I). Which left me alone. Boo. I went more into the sun and closer to the food area and met some nice girls my age and talked to them for a while. Then I went to drop off my plastic bag at the UPS trucks that would take them to the finish line and met a nice Romanian woman and her husband, both from Manhattan. We talked about the cold and finish times, and they told me I’d easily be in under 5 hours—she, a rather portly woman, said in her thick Romanian accent, ‘look at me! I am 6 hours, maybe 5:30 if good day. You, you are leet-el. You are 5 hours no proh-blehm. ‘ Then I found a South African woman- Heather- who’d been on my flight from Joburg. She was also Orange Wave III so we hung out until we finally lined up in our corrals at 9:45am. And then…
And then. We were finally lined up. And of course I had to go to the bathroom again. Geez, nerves. Fortunately this was anticipated and portapotties were lined up alongside the start area. And everyone was going. I fortunately got in a few minutes before the official cannon-fire signaling the start. Which was good, because even with the artillery fire, we weren’t sure if we had started. Was it Wave II? Was it us? Where was the start! But a minute or two of shuffling and we were crossing something and then onto the Verranzano Bridge. We had started.
THE MARATHON! STATEN ISLAND AND BROOKLYN
Wow where to start. Well I suppose at the start on the Verranzano Bridge. Which according to the course elevation chart was supposed to be a good hill. Except I didn’t feel anything, just excitement The bridge was exciting too, tens of thousands of runners overseeing a beautiful fall landscape below, and running towards Brooklyn. I stopped twice to make a few wardrobe adjustments and then was really off. I felt spectacular. Hills, bridges, whatever, this was NOTHING compared to Joburg hills. We passed the first mile on the bridge which was when I first saw a clock—00:51:XX. I later figured out that this meant 51 minutes from the Wave I start. But it was confusing since I thought I had passed the start at 10:26am according to my watch. Whatever, I was just going to run. Soon we were on the downhill of the bridge and I was passing like everyone. I was trying not to start too strong, but even at a leisurely pace I still felt like I was kicking ass. And this feeling continued all the way through Brooklyn up through the half marathon mark. I was high-fiving kids, throwing thumbs ups, and just jamming to my ipod (which I never took off the entire race—it was so nice too, especially after having run without one the past few weeks—I had truly missed it). I had sodium tablets at the start and every hour in, and was alternating water and Gatorade. And basically I just felt fantastic. Piece of cake. I felt like I was kicking ass and I later found out I was—I did 13.1 miles in 2h12m which is my best half marathon time so far (and solid 10 minute miles). Joburg altitude and hill training was helping. I was hanging around with a lot of 4:45 pace team people too, which meant that I was definitely going to be in under 5 hours if I kept at it. Excellent.
QUEENS
Soon we were into Queens and I was just enjoying the race so much. Beautiful day out, not too hot. I’d long ago (mile 2 or 3) shed my uber flamboyant looking blue and white and black splotched gloves, hat, and scarf my mom had given me, as well as my $5 Joburg hoody and a long sleeve tee. It was slightly chilly at times, but mostly just nice out. I was having a good time people watching the crowd and the runners. Then, somewhere around mile 14 I saw Jeff on the sidelines! It was like I was just looking around and there he was. I stopped gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug and said ‘Hi!’ ‘Hi! How are you?!’ ‘Great! I’m doing really well!’ ‘Well get back in there!’ So I did. And I felt like I was cruising. Well until the Queensboro bridge at mile 15.
Not sure why but the Queensboro bridge was just a downer. Too long, and hard to tell if we were about to approach the decline or not. And we were underneath the top of the bridge so it was kind of dark. And then we see ambulances coming towards us and someone with a megaphone shouts ‘EVERYONE STAY CALM! STAY BACK! CONTINUE RUNNING! STAY CALM’ which we do, even as we pass a woman passed out on the ground and surrounded by medics. Quick prayer and sign of the cross that she’s not dead, and keep running. Mile 16 is on the bridge. We are almost to freaking Manhattan. Damn it, just let’s get to Manhattan. I don’t know if it’s the physics of the bridge bouncing or what, but my tibias feel like they’re being ram-rodded up into my kneecaps. I just want to get off this.
MANHATTAN & THE BRONX
Finally we’re down and rounding a quick corner and people are cheering and thank god we’re in Manhattan. I find out later that my parents were right there, but I certainly didn’t see them or hear them. Well maybe I heard them, but because I had ‘MARIA’ plastered to the front of my shirt, there was no way to distinguish friends shouting ‘GO MARIA!’ from strangers doing the same. (Next time I will definitely ask friends and family to shout out my last name too). Then we were going up 1st avenue. For like 40 blocks. I was pretty intent on seeing Julia Unger, ALF’s fundraising coordinator and my former roommate while in Joburg. She was standing at 74th and 1st on the right ready to take our pictures. I saw her before she even saw me, posed for a picture, gave her a quick hug and kept on moving. I ate a gel bar thing at some point (I think I also had one around mile 9 or 10) and another sodium tablet. Which was good because yeah at mile 18 I was getting tired. They gave us another gel pack which I took and put into my fanny pack. Then Manhattan wasn’t so bad. I kept reminding myself that I’d already run this distance before and could certainly keep on going. In fact, based on my time, I think I realized I’d actually run further than 20 miles on that last long training run. Anyway, I was getting tired and definitely slowing down. Then soon we were going over a little bridge into the Bronx. We were getting close to the end! Last borough- just back onto Manhattan and down into the park and we’d be done.
MANHATTAN AND CENTRAL PARK
But the last miles were getting tough. I was past 21 miles and going back towards Manhattan. Good. Except that after having put off going to the bathroom since mile 9 or so (I didn’t really have to go that badly, obviously) I finally decided, eh, why not go now, I’ll probably enjoy the last 4.5 miles more. So just back into Manhattan and right before mile 22 I stopped. No line, but I took my time. And lost at least 5 minutes. TMI, perhaps, but hey, sorry this is pretty typical runner business. Water stop was right there so I took a drink and then damn. Getting back started was rough. My ankles felt not so nice. More like they might shatter if I kept bobbing up and down on them. But I was at the 22 mile mark and just 4 miles left, so I knew I needed to keep going and more importantly keep running.
Which was good because those last 4 miles were long. Long long. We were up at 130th street and had to get all the way down to the south side of the park and then across to Columbus circle then back into the park. Ugh! Things were actually better once we got off of 5th avenue and into the park proper at 90th. Then at least I didn’t have to look at the street signs and could instead focus on the park. Well kind of. It was getting hard to focus on anything at that point. My legs felt pretty dead, but I was determined not to walk any of the race (except water stops obviously- and those I all kept really quick) so I kept going. And going. Pretty slowly towards the end. I was getting passed, but I was also still passing a lot of people, especially those who had stopped to walk. Finally we reached the end of the park and were past mile 25. Then there was a ‘1 mile to go’ sign and I knew I was almost there.
LAST MILE
And then I saw my parents! I posed for a picture (while running—and it actually came out) and was very excited. But also very tired. Then moments later the ½ mile mark which I initially mistook for the 26 mile mark. ARGH! So close!
Then it was 400 yards to go, then swiftly 26 miles, then 300 yards, 200 yards, 100 yards, and then… the finish. And I didn’t quite stop, or at least didn’t feel like it. I also didn’t really feel like I had finished initially. And then having stopped (you had to with all the crowding), well I was like ‘It’s over?’ But it was, and I was being handed a space blanket and that’s about when my body was suddenly what the #*&(@^ has been going on here?!?!? and my legs started feeling terrible and I got really light headed and felt like I was going to certainly pass out if I didn’t sit down.
Unfortunately I wasn’t supposed to sit down. Or stop. Not for 20 minutes. So I tried my best to keep walking. I managed 10 minutes and then felt like I was really going to pass out. It was so crowded and cold and my legs just didn’t feel right. I found a free medic finally walked over and said, “I know I’m supposed to walk, but I feel very light headed and have low blood pressure.” He told me to sit down if I needed and that because after you stop running your blood pressure drops. And with the crowds the way they were, well I probably wasn’t getting enough blood to my brain still. He had me drink some water and when I felt better he told me to just pump my legs up and down for the next 15 minutes so I didn’t pass out or cramp up. Which I did and I felt slightly better. Except I was still damn cold and not feeling so well. I wanted out of there, but we were trapped into a corral and couldn’t get out until we’d passed by a very long chute lined by all of the UPS trucks with our plastic bags that we’d checked at the start.
And the line to get the bag? Damn that was chaos. I felt terrible. It was all I could do to rip my bib number off of my jersey and hold it out for someone to read. I stood there at least 10 or 15 long cold minutes. I even sat down, my back against the truck tire at one point. I just couldn’t stand anymore. My feet ached and I was hobbling. Somehow I finally got my bag and put on my gloves and headband. No other clothing though—I’d thrown the rest away at the start. Ugh. SO COLD! Finally I had my bag though and I shuffled out towards the exit. Which was not that close. I did even get my chip on my shoe removed and then somehow made it out of the park… at 77th. Which was not nice because I’d told my parents to meet me at 65th and Columbus. And let me tell you, I was not able to walk 12 blocks then.
So instead I cut across the street and started walking towards Columbus. But first I got a hot pretzel. I had a bag of food they’d given us at the end, but I had not had even the slightest interest in anything in it. But that pretzel, I wanted. I was moving like an 80 year old, but finally got out my money and paid for the thing. Then the struggle of trying to get my space blanket wrapped tightly around me while also holding my plastic bag and heavy food bag filled with Gatorade and water. But then that bite of pretzel.. bliss. Really that pretzel was about all that got me from Central Park West to Columbus. It was a long block. I just wanted a damn cab. But of course everyone wanted a cab. So that wasn’t happening. So phoneless, cold, and exhausted, I went into a Starbucks. I saw another finisher (easily identifiable by space blanket) and asked if I could use his phone. He was very kind (turns out he’s from Texas—no surprise) and let me phone my mom. Except I was so tired that I accidentally phoned my own number first (same area code as my mom’s number at least). Which was dead anyway. I sheepishly asked to phone again and of course the guy was like ‘Of course!’ At which point I accidentally phoned XXX-XXX-7789 instead of XXX-XXX-7786. Guess my frozen fingers weren’t working so well. UGH! Finally I get the right number though and get a hold of my mom and instruct them to come to the Starbucks on 77th and Columbus.
MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE RUN BACK TO THE HOTEL INSTEAD
I talk to some more finishers and then lo and behold in come my mom, my dad, Lauren, and Eric! Yea! It’s so good to see them and my parents even brought me flowers. My mom gives me a coat (her coat, I later find out) and we take some pictures. I sit back down and we spend some time in the warmth. I decide I just want to go back to the hotel at 49th and 1st and have a hot bath. Unfortunately, the taxi situation has not improved in the slightest, and so instead we grab some hot chocolates and sit for a while. I am in no position to walk—my feet are swollen and yeah my ankles feel like the might crumble under the weight of my beleaguered body, so my parents go down the street to try and hail a cab. They come back unsuccessful. Lauren and Eric leave and we try for a taxi again. Still no luck. It’s getting dark. I’m getting cranky. Very cranky. I just want to get home! We can’t find a taxi, and I can’t walk much further than a block, so my mom and I get in an outrageously overpriced rickshaw and go down as far as we can afford, which is Columbus circle. We get there… still no free taxis. Shoot me. I get inside the mall there, and try and warm up. I’m feeling slightly better and more able to walk by the time my dad rejoins us (only 2 people would fit in the rickshaw). We decide to do the metro at this point. Of course, the train takes FOREVER to come. And I’m still freezing. My dad gives me his jacket which helps a lot. I calm down. The train comes. One stop, and we switch lines. The second train comes quickly. Excellent. Finally we’re off at 53rd and 3rd. Thank god.
We’re on the homestretch. Which by the way, has been way more painful than the actual race. I feel better, yes, but I just want to rest. We pass by a promising looking Italian place though and decide to grab dinner. Calamari, minestrone soup and a little lasagna and I feel pretty good. I even try to drink some wine, but mainly just want water. At this point I take off my mom’s coat (which is under my dad’s) and realize that yes, my running jersey is still sweaty. No wonder I was freezing. But we’re almost there, and soon enough we’re back in the hotel, where the heat has finally been turned on. And it’s toasty, and I take a bath, and I charge my phone, and finally get all my time split text messages and feel very happy.
And that’s it! It’s Tuesday now, and I’m in West Chester spending a few days here before going back to NYC on Thursday. My ankle is still sore, but I came out blister free (although I got two new ones walking around yesterday in regular flats..) and I feel pretty good overall.
So that’s the very long recount of my entire marathon experience. I do think I will do another one—as painful as it was directly after the race, it was an incredibly rewarding experience overall. I think I’ll get back into doing some halfs in the coming months, but New York could definitely be on my agenda for 2009. And if it is, then I definitely shooting for under 4:30 this time!
THE DAY BEFORE
The night before was a little stressful. Day before was fine. Got up fairly early despite a late night out on Halloween (no alcohol though, obviously). Lauren and I grabbed brunch at Sarabeth’s up in the Upper East Side at 92nd and Madison (I think). I knew I was supposed to be carbo loading, but I really wanted a gruyere and leek omelet, and considering it came with a massive English muffin and I’d already had some carbohydrate powder mix, well that’s what I got. So brunch was nice (aside from a really annoying young family whose nasally voiced father insisted on bringing his daughter’s bike inside an already painfully crowded restaurant entryway). Near to the park, we walked down towards the reservoir and peered out across the water. Runners were everywhere, and I had a strong inclination to get up and start jogging too. I was technically scheduled to do a 3.2k run, but for some reason my right quad was really tight, and well I didn’t want to push it so I decided to hold out for the big day.
Jeff then called and we decided to meet up before my parents got into town at 5ish. Lauren and I were nearby his apartment at 89th and Lex, so we were going to walk there but first we passed by the Guggenheim at 90th and the park. We had been talking just then about hitting up some museums later that week, so we decided to check out the opening times for reference. Except there was some cool photography exhibit going on by Catherine Opie, an exhibit that Lauren had already read some good things about. So of course we wanted to go in then. We called up Jeff and luckily he was in for it too, and 30 minutes later we all met up outside and headed in. I’ll spare the details on the exhibit for maybe another post, but it was most certainly multifaceted. Some I didn’t care for much, but the photographs of icehouses…yeah I don’t really have adequate words for how amazing and silent and intense and beautiful they were.
Post Guggenheim, we sat out front of the museum, admired the autumn hues of the trees across the street, and sipped tea. It was a warm fall day that smelled of just-brisk air and crushed leaves, and I certainly didn’t feel like moving at all, and the idea of moving 26 miles the next day… well it was unfathomable.
Eventually Lauren parted ways with Jeff and me, and the two of us went to Gray’s Papaya to grab juice and hot dogs. Well Jeff did at least. I was still good from massive breakfast, although the bite I had of his hot dog was pretty damn delicious. More walking around, and relaxing until my parents finally arrived in the city. Which is about when things got stressful.
Not that my parents aren’t great. They obviously are, or they wouldn’t have a) paid for my ticket to come to NYC and see them and run the marathon or b) driven 7 hours to NYC c) rescued my dog when I unexpectedly expatriated in January d) moved all of my belongings from Texas to their house, e), f), g)….. Point though is that suddenly them being in town signaled ‘forget leisurely stroll past the Central park reservoir or slow brunch or lying around all day’ and ushered in ‘holy shit. marathon TOMORROW MORNING.’ which left me stressssssssssssed out out out.
MARATHON EVE
Around 6:30 or something the folks arrived in front of Lauren’s at 91st and 2nd and naturally with no parking to spare and me needing to drag down a year’s worth of belongings from a 5th floor walk up… well yeah, bring it on. My dad parked my car illegally at the corner in a way that made it look like he was about to turn the wrong way down 2nd avenue and finally I got to give him a hug. Which was too long delayed (I hadn’t seen him since Christmas) and too long delayed (too much time to get the car out of the way of traffic). But hazards flipped on and parking rules thrown out, hugs and kisses were traded, and my mom and I trucked up the four flights to Lauren’s apt.
She wasn’t there, still being out with her boyfriend Brick, but luckily her roommate Melissa was. We hastily stuffed the entrails of my exploded suitcases back in, and hobbled our way back down to the car. At which point I was already exhausted, and starving, and stressed. And at which point my father decided he must make a vocal note of anything of any level of interest on the street. E.g., ‘look how funny it is that they hold out their arm to get a taxi!’. Which was annoying since I felt like they were purposefully playing up the country-bumpkin-comes-to-the-big-city! spiel. I mean when I was growing up my dad spent a lot of time in Europe for business and thus had been in a metropolis before… and yeah as I already mentioned my nervousness was manifesting into testiness… Anyway. We’re down at 70th when I realize I left the one thing I really need for tomorrow (aside from my running shoes)—my race number and chip. Erg. So we turn back towards Lauren’s and now I’m getting really hungry and frustrated. It’s past 7 and I need to be up at 5 and I still have to find some pasta to eat and prep all my stuff for the morning.
Finally finally finally we get to the hotel and get my stuff upstairs. Instantly I feel 100% better and more relaxed. Especially because we’ve spotted an Italian place about a block away that looks promising for food. We head immediately over there and almost instantly get a table. I order up basic fettucine with tomato sauce and start inhaling bread. Good. Pasta comes. It’s not particularly good, but I don’t care and eat all of it. I’m full of carbs and in much better shape for the am. We head back to the hotel (which is fantastic by the way—a suite with a closed off living room and kitchen area) and I start to prepare all my things for the morning: Pin racing tag to jersey. Fix chip to shoe. Fill marathon drop bag with Vaseline, gloves, hat, powerbars, sodium tablets. Charge ipod. Set clocks back one hour. Calm down.
My parents kindly give me the master bed to myself and sleep on the pull out couch instead—an act of parental love which I massively appreciate. I fixate more on nice afternoon out with Jeff than the upcoming morning and manage to fall asleep.
MARATHON MORNING
I’m woken up at 4am by our automated hotel wake up call. This is annoying because I wanted to get up at 5am, but the wake up call system apparently didn’t get the memo about the time change (even though we specifically asked if it would the night before). Luckily I kind of fall back asleep until around 5:15am when it’s actually time to get up. I throw on my racing gear and eat a packet of oatmeal. I feel surprisingly ready to go. Our hotel is still cold (no heat...) and I’m just ready to get out of there. Everything is ready so we all head out the hotel at 5:50am and try to hail a cab. Before I had even thrown up my hand, one has already stopped. Excellent. Within 15 minutes we’re at the Staten Island Ferry, and way early for my scheduled 6:30am ferry departure. The ferry terminal is swarming with runners. The line to a coffee and bagel shop is about 40 people deep. Same for the restrooms. We look identical. Bundled up in old sweats and sweatbands, sitting on the floor with our tennis-shoe clad feet stretched out, staring off into space while quietly eating a bagel/a cliff bar/a banana and sipping coffee or Gatorade. I find out that it’s not actually a big deal to switch ferries (despite having been threatened at all previous marathon communications to not do so) and decide to wait until the 7am ferry so that I can join up with my fellow Team African Leadership Foundation teammate, Brian Kane. The 6:30 ferry departs and the line for coffee is suddenly truncated so I send my mom in for a cup of caffeine and a bagel. After a few minutes she’s back. I throw the bagel in my clear plastic bag that I’ll bring with me to the staging area, and tentatively ingest some coffee.
Then Brian and co. show up. Good, a familiar face. He’s wearing a ‘borrowed’ ALA track suit, and I am damn jealous that I didn’t think to grab one too. I’m just wearing my racing gear, and a throw-away long sleeve shirt and hoody. His friends are nice although they’re slightly intimidating as they all look fast. But whatever, I just want to finish this thing. Soon it’s time for our ferry and I’m giving bye byes to the mom and pop and we’re off.
The sun is rising over the water and I try to focus on that instead of the fact that 38,000 of us are congregating on Staten Island to run all the hell the way back to Central Park via the circuitous way of 5 boroughs, one of which we get to run twice. The ferry ride is good. I meet an older woman calmly pinning her number to her jersey. She asks where I’m from, I say Philly via Johannesburg. She, as most people seem to, finds this genuinely interesting We chat some more. I ask if she’s run this race before. She slowly takes a safety pin from out of her mouth, sets it in her lap. She turns her head to look around, looks down, then cautiously brings her eyes to mine and whispers alongside an outstretched palm: ‘this is my 15th time’. Wow.
I can see the Statue of Liberty from outside the ferry window. I kind of want to jump up and check it out since I’ve never seen it before, but figure… eh, it’s time for the marathon now.
STATEN ISLAND STAGINGWe arrive Staten Island and collectively decide on a bathroom break before boarding the bus to take us to the staging area. The portapotties are conveniently located at the front of a very long bus line, and it’s just damn cold and windy enough that we decide to cut to the front of the line. Maybe not so ethical, but based on the windchill factor, a smart move. We’re instantly on the bus and on our way to the staging area.
We’re dropped off and step back out into the cold. The trees are alive with reds and yellows and the houses alongside the entryway are traditional Americana and still proudly adorned with Jack-o-lanterns and artificial cobwebs. I want a cup of hot cocoa and a fleecy blanket and a hay bale to sit on. Instead we joke and walk on. The plastic bag Gestapo is suddenly upon us—we’re NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE NON-AUTHORIZED BAGS OF ANY MANNER ON OUR PERSON except those they’ve given us at the expo that have our bib number affixed to the outside. Backpacks are seized as are CVS and WholeFoods branded plastic sacs. We’re non-perpetrators so we’re quickly let in. Now for the logistics.
So NYC marathon is testing out new start logistics this year: three waves and three colors to help ease congestion at the start. I’ve reported a slower expected finish (read, not under 3:30) and have been assigned to the third wave. Brian and his friends Jeff and Pete are in the first wave. Friend of friend Nick, is in the third wave with me. Now the waves signify different start times: Wave I at 9:40am (yeah.. we are all DAMN early thanks to official transportation), Wave II at 10:00am, Wave III at 10:20am. Got it? Good. So regardless of your wave, you also get a color of orange, green or blue which signifies your start area. Which have different routes (kind of) until they all merge at mile 8. Which means you could be an orange wave I (like Jeff and Pete) or an orange wave III (like Nick and me) or a green wave I (like Brian). Which matters because you line up in different areas. But considering it was now only 8:00am and we all had a long time to spend in the cold, well we hung out together in the orange area. Right in front of the portapotties. Not scenic, but practical. Especially as we all went to the bathroom at least 2 more times. (Nerves.) Now time to grease up. Vaseline on toes, lips, and places I won’t mention. Then more carbs. I went for the bagel I’d stashed from earlier and more of my carbo powder drink. Then came the announcement for Wave I to line up. I bid Brian adieu and good luck and he went off to the green area. Then the other guys went to line up in orange (Nick decided to sneak into Wave I). Which left me alone. Boo. I went more into the sun and closer to the food area and met some nice girls my age and talked to them for a while. Then I went to drop off my plastic bag at the UPS trucks that would take them to the finish line and met a nice Romanian woman and her husband, both from Manhattan. We talked about the cold and finish times, and they told me I’d easily be in under 5 hours—she, a rather portly woman, said in her thick Romanian accent, ‘look at me! I am 6 hours, maybe 5:30 if good day. You, you are leet-el. You are 5 hours no proh-blehm. ‘ Then I found a South African woman- Heather- who’d been on my flight from Joburg. She was also Orange Wave III so we hung out until we finally lined up in our corrals at 9:45am. And then…
And then. We were finally lined up. And of course I had to go to the bathroom again. Geez, nerves. Fortunately this was anticipated and portapotties were lined up alongside the start area. And everyone was going. I fortunately got in a few minutes before the official cannon-fire signaling the start. Which was good, because even with the artillery fire, we weren’t sure if we had started. Was it Wave II? Was it us? Where was the start! But a minute or two of shuffling and we were crossing something and then onto the Verranzano Bridge. We had started.
THE MARATHON! STATEN ISLAND AND BROOKLYN
Wow where to start. Well I suppose at the start on the Verranzano Bridge. Which according to the course elevation chart was supposed to be a good hill. Except I didn’t feel anything, just excitement The bridge was exciting too, tens of thousands of runners overseeing a beautiful fall landscape below, and running towards Brooklyn. I stopped twice to make a few wardrobe adjustments and then was really off. I felt spectacular. Hills, bridges, whatever, this was NOTHING compared to Joburg hills. We passed the first mile on the bridge which was when I first saw a clock—00:51:XX. I later figured out that this meant 51 minutes from the Wave I start. But it was confusing since I thought I had passed the start at 10:26am according to my watch. Whatever, I was just going to run. Soon we were on the downhill of the bridge and I was passing like everyone. I was trying not to start too strong, but even at a leisurely pace I still felt like I was kicking ass. And this feeling continued all the way through Brooklyn up through the half marathon mark. I was high-fiving kids, throwing thumbs ups, and just jamming to my ipod (which I never took off the entire race—it was so nice too, especially after having run without one the past few weeks—I had truly missed it). I had sodium tablets at the start and every hour in, and was alternating water and Gatorade. And basically I just felt fantastic. Piece of cake. I felt like I was kicking ass and I later found out I was—I did 13.1 miles in 2h12m which is my best half marathon time so far (and solid 10 minute miles). Joburg altitude and hill training was helping. I was hanging around with a lot of 4:45 pace team people too, which meant that I was definitely going to be in under 5 hours if I kept at it. Excellent.
QUEENSSoon we were into Queens and I was just enjoying the race so much. Beautiful day out, not too hot. I’d long ago (mile 2 or 3) shed my uber flamboyant looking blue and white and black splotched gloves, hat, and scarf my mom had given me, as well as my $5 Joburg hoody and a long sleeve tee. It was slightly chilly at times, but mostly just nice out. I was having a good time people watching the crowd and the runners. Then, somewhere around mile 14 I saw Jeff on the sidelines! It was like I was just looking around and there he was. I stopped gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug and said ‘Hi!’ ‘Hi! How are you?!’ ‘Great! I’m doing really well!’ ‘Well get back in there!’ So I did. And I felt like I was cruising. Well until the Queensboro bridge at mile 15.
Not sure why but the Queensboro bridge was just a downer. Too long, and hard to tell if we were about to approach the decline or not. And we were underneath the top of the bridge so it was kind of dark. And then we see ambulances coming towards us and someone with a megaphone shouts ‘EVERYONE STAY CALM! STAY BACK! CONTINUE RUNNING! STAY CALM’ which we do, even as we pass a woman passed out on the ground and surrounded by medics. Quick prayer and sign of the cross that she’s not dead, and keep running. Mile 16 is on the bridge. We are almost to freaking Manhattan. Damn it, just let’s get to Manhattan. I don’t know if it’s the physics of the bridge bouncing or what, but my tibias feel like they’re being ram-rodded up into my kneecaps. I just want to get off this.
MANHATTAN & THE BRONX
Finally we’re down and rounding a quick corner and people are cheering and thank god we’re in Manhattan. I find out later that my parents were right there, but I certainly didn’t see them or hear them. Well maybe I heard them, but because I had ‘MARIA’ plastered to the front of my shirt, there was no way to distinguish friends shouting ‘GO MARIA!’ from strangers doing the same. (Next time I will definitely ask friends and family to shout out my last name too). Then we were going up 1st avenue. For like 40 blocks. I was pretty intent on seeing Julia Unger, ALF’s fundraising coordinator and my former roommate while in Joburg. She was standing at 74th and 1st on the right ready to take our pictures. I saw her before she even saw me, posed for a picture, gave her a quick hug and kept on moving. I ate a gel bar thing at some point (I think I also had one around mile 9 or 10) and another sodium tablet. Which was good because yeah at mile 18 I was getting tired. They gave us another gel pack which I took and put into my fanny pack. Then Manhattan wasn’t so bad. I kept reminding myself that I’d already run this distance before and could certainly keep on going. In fact, based on my time, I think I realized I’d actually run further than 20 miles on that last long training run. Anyway, I was getting tired and definitely slowing down. Then soon we were going over a little bridge into the Bronx. We were getting close to the end! Last borough- just back onto Manhattan and down into the park and we’d be done.
MANHATTAN AND CENTRAL PARK
But the last miles were getting tough. I was past 21 miles and going back towards Manhattan. Good. Except that after having put off going to the bathroom since mile 9 or so (I didn’t really have to go that badly, obviously) I finally decided, eh, why not go now, I’ll probably enjoy the last 4.5 miles more. So just back into Manhattan and right before mile 22 I stopped. No line, but I took my time. And lost at least 5 minutes. TMI, perhaps, but hey, sorry this is pretty typical runner business. Water stop was right there so I took a drink and then damn. Getting back started was rough. My ankles felt not so nice. More like they might shatter if I kept bobbing up and down on them. But I was at the 22 mile mark and just 4 miles left, so I knew I needed to keep going and more importantly keep running.
Which was good because those last 4 miles were long. Long long. We were up at 130th street and had to get all the way down to the south side of the park and then across to Columbus circle then back into the park. Ugh! Things were actually better once we got off of 5th avenue and into the park proper at 90th. Then at least I didn’t have to look at the street signs and could instead focus on the park. Well kind of. It was getting hard to focus on anything at that point. My legs felt pretty dead, but I was determined not to walk any of the race (except water stops obviously- and those I all kept really quick) so I kept going. And going. Pretty slowly towards the end. I was getting passed, but I was also still passing a lot of people, especially those who had stopped to walk. Finally we reached the end of the park and were past mile 25. Then there was a ‘1 mile to go’ sign and I knew I was almost there.
LAST MILEAnd then I saw my parents! I posed for a picture (while running—and it actually came out) and was very excited. But also very tired. Then moments later the ½ mile mark which I initially mistook for the 26 mile mark. ARGH! So close!
Then it was 400 yards to go, then swiftly 26 miles, then 300 yards, 200 yards, 100 yards, and then… the finish. And I didn’t quite stop, or at least didn’t feel like it. I also didn’t really feel like I had finished initially. And then having stopped (you had to with all the crowding), well I was like ‘It’s over?’ But it was, and I was being handed a space blanket and that’s about when my body was suddenly what the #*&(@^ has been going on here?!?!? and my legs started feeling terrible and I got really light headed and felt like I was going to certainly pass out if I didn’t sit down.
Unfortunately I wasn’t supposed to sit down. Or stop. Not for 20 minutes. So I tried my best to keep walking. I managed 10 minutes and then felt like I was really going to pass out. It was so crowded and cold and my legs just didn’t feel right. I found a free medic finally walked over and said, “I know I’m supposed to walk, but I feel very light headed and have low blood pressure.” He told me to sit down if I needed and that because after you stop running your blood pressure drops. And with the crowds the way they were, well I probably wasn’t getting enough blood to my brain still. He had me drink some water and when I felt better he told me to just pump my legs up and down for the next 15 minutes so I didn’t pass out or cramp up. Which I did and I felt slightly better. Except I was still damn cold and not feeling so well. I wanted out of there, but we were trapped into a corral and couldn’t get out until we’d passed by a very long chute lined by all of the UPS trucks with our plastic bags that we’d checked at the start.
And the line to get the bag? Damn that was chaos. I felt terrible. It was all I could do to rip my bib number off of my jersey and hold it out for someone to read. I stood there at least 10 or 15 long cold minutes. I even sat down, my back against the truck tire at one point. I just couldn’t stand anymore. My feet ached and I was hobbling. Somehow I finally got my bag and put on my gloves and headband. No other clothing though—I’d thrown the rest away at the start. Ugh. SO COLD! Finally I had my bag though and I shuffled out towards the exit. Which was not that close. I did even get my chip on my shoe removed and then somehow made it out of the park… at 77th. Which was not nice because I’d told my parents to meet me at 65th and Columbus. And let me tell you, I was not able to walk 12 blocks then.
So instead I cut across the street and started walking towards Columbus. But first I got a hot pretzel. I had a bag of food they’d given us at the end, but I had not had even the slightest interest in anything in it. But that pretzel, I wanted. I was moving like an 80 year old, but finally got out my money and paid for the thing. Then the struggle of trying to get my space blanket wrapped tightly around me while also holding my plastic bag and heavy food bag filled with Gatorade and water. But then that bite of pretzel.. bliss. Really that pretzel was about all that got me from Central Park West to Columbus. It was a long block. I just wanted a damn cab. But of course everyone wanted a cab. So that wasn’t happening. So phoneless, cold, and exhausted, I went into a Starbucks. I saw another finisher (easily identifiable by space blanket) and asked if I could use his phone. He was very kind (turns out he’s from Texas—no surprise) and let me phone my mom. Except I was so tired that I accidentally phoned my own number first (same area code as my mom’s number at least). Which was dead anyway. I sheepishly asked to phone again and of course the guy was like ‘Of course!’ At which point I accidentally phoned XXX-XXX-7789 instead of XXX-XXX-7786. Guess my frozen fingers weren’t working so well. UGH! Finally I get the right number though and get a hold of my mom and instruct them to come to the Starbucks on 77th and Columbus.
MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE RUN BACK TO THE HOTEL INSTEAD
I talk to some more finishers and then lo and behold in come my mom, my dad, Lauren, and Eric! Yea! It’s so good to see them and my parents even brought me flowers. My mom gives me a coat (her coat, I later find out) and we take some pictures. I sit back down and we spend some time in the warmth. I decide I just want to go back to the hotel at 49th and 1st and have a hot bath. Unfortunately, the taxi situation has not improved in the slightest, and so instead we grab some hot chocolates and sit for a while. I am in no position to walk—my feet are swollen and yeah my ankles feel like the might crumble under the weight of my beleaguered body, so my parents go down the street to try and hail a cab. They come back unsuccessful. Lauren and Eric leave and we try for a taxi again. Still no luck. It’s getting dark. I’m getting cranky. Very cranky. I just want to get home! We can’t find a taxi, and I can’t walk much further than a block, so my mom and I get in an outrageously overpriced rickshaw and go down as far as we can afford, which is Columbus circle. We get there… still no free taxis. Shoot me. I get inside the mall there, and try and warm up. I’m feeling slightly better and more able to walk by the time my dad rejoins us (only 2 people would fit in the rickshaw). We decide to do the metro at this point. Of course, the train takes FOREVER to come. And I’m still freezing. My dad gives me his jacket which helps a lot. I calm down. The train comes. One stop, and we switch lines. The second train comes quickly. Excellent. Finally we’re off at 53rd and 3rd. Thank god.
We’re on the homestretch. Which by the way, has been way more painful than the actual race. I feel better, yes, but I just want to rest. We pass by a promising looking Italian place though and decide to grab dinner. Calamari, minestrone soup and a little lasagna and I feel pretty good. I even try to drink some wine, but mainly just want water. At this point I take off my mom’s coat (which is under my dad’s) and realize that yes, my running jersey is still sweaty. No wonder I was freezing. But we’re almost there, and soon enough we’re back in the hotel, where the heat has finally been turned on. And it’s toasty, and I take a bath, and I charge my phone, and finally get all my time split text messages and feel very happy.
And that’s it! It’s Tuesday now, and I’m in West Chester spending a few days here before going back to NYC on Thursday. My ankle is still sore, but I came out blister free (although I got two new ones walking around yesterday in regular flats..) and I feel pretty good overall.
So that’s the very long recount of my entire marathon experience. I do think I will do another one—as painful as it was directly after the race, it was an incredibly rewarding experience overall. I think I’ll get back into doing some halfs in the coming months, but New York could definitely be on my agenda for 2009. And if it is, then I definitely shooting for under 4:30 this time!
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