NYC 2011

No matter how times I've done it already - not that it's been that many, but I somehow thought that being a third-time marathoner might make me a pro - running the marathon is always the most humbling of experiences. It teaches me about so many things. I've probably said this before, but it's so true I am going to say it again. Only when we push ourselves to our very limits can we really learn something. Only when "I want to give up" is the only thought running through me head is the time when I can move past it to some place I had no idea existed in me. Looking back to it now, I had a great race. I PR'd by more than 26 minutes to finish at 3:59:45. But just the time alone says almost nothing about the experience, the struggles, all the emotions of the day. So I'll try to write some down while I still remember and feel them.


Before

This picture says it all about Saturday afternoon. Thanks to Dani and Imola! Yummmy!!



Before going to sleep, I changed my running watch back by one hour so I wouldn't be confused in the morning. It quickly ran through my mind that I had had that watch for some years now and thank god it was still working. Hah! Next morning, nearly 6am, I put it on my wrist, and it's blank! Completely gone. I pushed all the buttons, nothing. Nada. FUCK! I scrambled through stuff, find another running watch, blank as well. Really?? It was nearly 6:15, the time I was supposed to leave my apartment. I called David, who I was meeting at 7:15 at the Staten Island Ferry. He thought something was wrong and I wasn't coming. No no, I told him, just my watch, and him being an Ironman (literally), I figured he would have backup stuff. He did, phew. Cuz I was thinking, where the hell could you find a running watch at 6am, even in NYC??

I managed to leave my apartment almost as planned. I was a bit anxious because of the panic caused by this watch incident. The trains were also running funny, nobody was sure where the train we got on to was actually going. The woman sitting next to me was very anxious too. She got up at every stop to ask more and more people where the train was going, with conflicting results. I was just staying put, trying not to get even more nervous. At one point, she let out a little shriek: "Oh no! My gels!" She forgot some of her gels. She looked horrified, so I told her about my watch incident and tried to act like I wasn't at all phased by it. I also told her about how one earbud went missing from my headphones right before last year's marathon. Things like this happen, but they don't have to determine how the race is gonna go.

Finally, the train decided it was going to the ferry and we were all relieved. David was already there waiting with his rather girly pink watch, it worked perfectly even though we were initially concerned that it might not go above 1 hr. It did. Phew. The ferry ride was smooth, pretty, everyone was taking pictures, getting dressed, eating bananas, applying vaseline.







We had some time to take a few pictures before boarding our bus to the start village. The weather was perfect: just a bit chilly, not a cloud in the sky. We didn't have too much time before getting into our corrals: quickly checked bags, said our good lucks to Daniel and headed to the green area. My corral was at the front of the second green wave, so we were practically standing at the start line under the Verrazzano Bridge. This made David really nervous. He kept looking for the 4:00 pacers who were holding balloons and a big sign, but even after letting a bunch of people pass us, we were still closer to the 3:50 pacers. David wanted to start with me because he is a very good short distance runner and always starts out way too fast. Then he dies after halfway there. So he figured that if he started with me near a 4:00 pace (~9 min/mile), things would go better for him. I like the idea too; it's more fun to share the experience with someone, have someone familiar there next to you, talk to someone while you still can.

Mile 1-15

Oh the funnest part of the race! Brooklyn has such energy! People are excited - both runners and spectators - loud, it's a huge party on the streets! We were just soaking it all up. We were also going way too fast. I kept holding David back, telling him to slow down. We were running between an 8:30-8:45 min/mile pace, which is now pretty comfortable for me (but definitely not for 4 hours!). At mile 9, I saw Emese, then at 11, Jessica handed me a half a banana, which was just perfect timing as I was starting to get a little hungry. Right before the Pulaski Bridge crossing over to Queens, I looked over to my left to check on David and he was no longer next to me. I looked back and I saw him walking behind. He was done. So I put on my headphones, braced for the uphill of the bridge and kept moving. Queens was uneventful and as we turned onto the Queensboro Bridge, I started feeling it. Things were getting harder, less fun.

Mile 15-20

The uphill on the bridge lasts forever and ever! I am not kidding. Then we hit the 16 mile mark right before turning off the bridge. There were 2 signs saying on consecutive pillars: "Welcome to Manhattan" and "If 10 miles is easy, welcome to easy". Hah. I think I said Fuck you! out loud. But the energy of 1st Ave got me through the next 5 miles or so. I saw Urszula waving from behind a wall of people, near HSS, Janice, Rebecca and Thorsten were holding a big sign that said "RUN Julie RUN", my roommate and her entire family were on 80th St, my relatives on 81st, and then Aditya was waiting at 88th, ready to jump in when I passed by. We had talked the previous evening and he said he was having knee issues so he wasn't sure if he'd run with me, but in the excitement of the marathon, he couldn't stop himself. He jumped in just like last year and we headed further north on 1st. At 101st, I said hi to Jana, Robert and the babies and then there was nothing else to look forward to. Soon I realized that trying to talk wasn't only mentally exhausting but it actually caused physical pain so I started resorting to nods and grunts. 1st Ave is rough because we're still running "away" from the finish, up north, and there is the horrible prospect of having to cross through another borough and 2 bridges. The crowds also disappear in Harlem. Going up the first bridge, I was just angry. Why is this f*ing bridge here??? Why do we have to go to the Bronx??? Then at 20 miles, Aditya said "you're practically there". I must have given him the meanest look, maybe I even said shut up (that might have been in my head, hopefully), because after that he just kept saying that I was doing well, which of course was a lie but nonetheless, it's nice to hear.

Mile 20-24

Here is why you should never say to a marathoner at mile 20 that he or she is practically there: the last 6.2 miles of a marathon are the longest and hardest 6.2 miles of your life! It's hard to explain what happens there. The wall is a good analogy. You just keep banging your head against a wall. For a long time. With every step you take, it's another bang against the wall. There is pain but it's hard to define it. It's everywhere. Mostly the legs of course. With every step, it's more pain. And at first, you try to fight it. You dwell on it. It hurts!!! I want to stop!!! I quit!!! I can't do it!!! On this particular day, my biggest issue was being thirsty. Really thirsty. It was warm for a November day, very sunny and I was getting dry. Drinking Gatorade started making me feel nauseous at about mile 20. And the water I could drink at the stations was just not cutting it. So at the first change, I grabbed a bottle of water from a spectator (no, I did not steal it, he was handing them out) and with that, I decided to walk. Aditya was gone, I don't even remember where he left, but suddenly it was just me and the bottle of water. I chugged. Bad idea. It just went straight to my stomach and kept splashing around there. So I walked a bit more. At this point we were no 5th Ave, all uphill from 110th to 90th. 20 blocks of hell! Those were my darkest moments on Sunday. I managed to run/walk an 11 minute mile there, while my average pace for the whole race was 9:10/mile. I was struggling really badly. I was absolutely 100% certain that there was no way I could still run a 4 hr marathon. I did not even dare looking at my watch. I felt defeated. I looked down because I couldn't imagine looking into the eyes of spectators who were screaming "you can do it!". Because I felt like I couldn't do it. I saw people passing me on both sides. We were still in the high 90's, 99th, 98th. Where is 90th???? Then I remembered, at 90th, we turn into Central Park. And in Central Park, I am home. I am home because I train there, I race there, and because my friends are going to be watching there. I have to pull myself together! I cannot be seen walking! As soon as I saw 90th St, I started running. I have no idea if it was slow or fast, most likely at a snail's pace. But I was moving with the crowd again.

Mile 24-26.2

I passed the 24 mile banner, then 40k, moving slowly but steadily. Suddenly, like a knife stabbed my left knee. Cramps in my right quads. Oh shit! I had never had cramps during a race before. What is going to happen?? What if my muscles just shut down?? I will have to stop! As I started dwelling on this, I heard my name somewhere. I looked up, managed a half a smile and a wave.: This was a crucial moment, I was distracted. I forgot about the cramps. I had less than 2 miles to go, I looked at my watch for the first time in a couple of miles and to my biggest surprise, I noted that I still had a chance for that 4 hr marathon. From then on, nothing else mattered but the time. It's like a new timer was started, a whole new race. I turned up the music to drown out the incredible noise of the crowd and I focused on one thing: one foot in front of the other. Never mind the pain, just one foot in front of the other. Never mind the crowd, just one foot in front of the other. I passed under 25 miles, still within reach. I picked up the pace back to a nearly 9 min/mile. How? I have no idea. Clearly, at mile 23, I wasn't all done. I just had to believe it. I just had to try harder. We turned onto Central Park South. I could see Columbus Circle. I knew this race was going to end. Before that point, I honestly wasn't sure. I started passing people. Zigzagging around people who were barely able to move. I couldn't see or hear. We turned into the park again, with just 800 yards to go. I knew it was all uphill. Don't focus no the uphill, just one foot in front of the other.

The marathon is NOT 26 miles long. It's 26.2. And please do not underestimate those 0.2 miles. They are tough. I looked at my watch one last time as I passed 26 miles. Less than 2 minutes. I can do it! I can so do it! I pushed as hard as I could. I didn't see or hear Imola yelling. Just one foot in front of the other. And there is was: the finish. I could not believe it. I was done. I was fairly certain I was under 4 hours, but I didn't stop my watch until a few seconds later so I didn't know the exact time.

After

There was the usual madness after the finish. Anyone who sat down had to go to an ambulance. Either keep walking or you'll be carried away. At that point, it seemed like it might be better to be carried away. People stumbling, laughing, crying, hugging, vomiting, all human emotions mixed together. Inside me as well as all around. After moving for 4 hours straight, we could finally stop for a little while. A million thanks to all the volunteers there for their kind words, pats on the back, the warm blanket and the goodie bag! They were incredible! I found my bag fairly quickly and made my way out of the park. Called my parents who told me what my official time was: they were tracking my run in real time from the very beginning, I was a little blue runner on their screen for 4 hours. I was overjoyed to hear 3:xx:xx, the x's didn't matter. By the time I got to the designated meeting point, Janice, Anna and Rebecca were waiting with the signs. Big hugs, sighs of relief. Hot chocolate. Matzo ball soup. Pancakes and apple pie. Pictures.




On my way home with Emese, as we were entering the 72nd St subway stop, a police officer stopped me before I could swipe my card. He said "today, you go for free". I told him I had an unlimited metrocard, so it didn't matter. He didn't let me go through, he said it was a matter of principle and he opened the door for me. On the day of the marathon, people are at their best, most human, kindest. It's wonderful. It makes me love this city even more! On the 2, smashed against the door, medal hanging around my neck, a man congratulated me. He asked my time, said he was very impressed. He told me he was running a bit too these days, up to 10 miles now. I said just a few months and he'd be ready for a marathon. He looked at me, smiled and said that he would try because I looked so happy. I was so happy.

Today, eating lunch with a coworker, he said I inspired him and he signed up for NYRR membership and will do the 9+1 next year to qualify for the 2013 marathon. YES!

On the corner of 1st and 68th, where we passed by some 48 hours ago on our run, I saw today and older man, must have been 70 at least, with the official marathon shirt on, proudly showing it off. His walk was fluid, not a trace of a limp. As I wobbled towards the lab, every muscle in my legs sore still, I thought, well, there is always more to accomplish, and as I got back to my computer, I started looking up marathons around the world for 2012 :)