When I got to the ferry station, there were a million runners, prostitutes, and other
ne’erdowells who were out partying the night before who didn’t make
it back to the island until the wee hours of the night. I learned that some runners are incapable of making small talk that doesn’t have to do with running and showing off in a way that make their conversati
on seem natural. There isn’t a term for it, I don’t think, but it’s something along the lines of this: “Oh I’m so slow, I only can run a 5K in 15 minutes!” You know they are begging for accolades. And I hate them!
The ferry ride was so much fun or the 5:30 am equivalent to fun. I got to see the Statue of Liberty at sunrise and it was funny to see the drunks in their half-assed Halloween costumes trying their best to not acknowledge that they are surrounded by people who are goal-oriented. There were buses waiting for us when we got to Staten Island. They took us to the Runners Village. Then we walked some more. They checked our bags and numbers so non-runners were kept out and so were the bombs.
The ground was wet and there was nothing to do for three hours, so I curled up into a ball along the fence and tried to sleep with limited success. They had food there, but I brought food because you never know, and I figured it’s better to be prepared. I think they had bagels and bananas. I mean it’s nice and all, but I’d rather just bring my own. I also failed at finding one of the numerous celebrities. My mission was to find Tara from the Biggest Loser and get my picture taken with her.
Sometime later I hear the speakers saying that all people in the first wave need to make their way to their corrals. So I made it back to the trucks to drop off my clear plastic bag provided by the the good people at the NYC Marathon. I attached my number to it and gave it to the fine volunteers. God bless them. I still had on some clothes that I was going to ditch, along with some food. The actual start was still an hour away. There were port-o-potties in the corals, but most people would just pee out of the chain link fence. It was kind of funny and kind of gross since I was sitting near where they started to pee. Then all too soon, they announced that we would begin to make our ways toward the start line. I still had to pee, so I went to the chain link fence while people passed me. Fifteen seconds later I joined them and walked to the start. Along the way I also took time to retie my shoes and strip off the sweats I bought on the cheap from TJ Maxx and Old Navy.
We were surrounded by buses when we came to a standstill in front of the Verazanno Bridge. They played “New York, New York” by Frankie S, which got me hyped. Words from the announcer. Some guy two people down peed right in the middle of everyone at the start. I felt phantom splash back. I was horrified and amused. Star spangled banner. Mayor Bloomberg. Bang! Away we go!
I don’t know how it happened, but in front of me there were a ton of people who were running slower, much slower than I. The good people at the New York Road Runners Club or whoever need to straighten that out because the corral system had some major issues. There were people in front of me who looked like they would run it in about 4:30:xx. Maybe they passed me while I peed? I think it was a glitch in the system.
I ran the first mile in 7:30. It was all uphill. I kind of regret peeing in the coral, because I think it would be really gratifying peeing off the side of the Verazanno-Narrows bridge. Ladies, that is the best part about being a guy. I know you don’t understand, but do your best. It’s really great to pee off of large structures. While running I turned my gaze upward much of the time because the bridge itself is really majestic and I won’t be running on it again. At the end of the second mile, I noticed that I ran it in 6:00. Whoops. Too fast, but I needed to make up time. I still had my makeshift arm warmers (tube socks) on with gloves. I think I took them off by mile 3.
The first six miles or so I was running way too fast. I had planned to run the first 10-13 at a pace of 6:40 and then the next eight at 6:50 and the remaining 8 or so at 7:00. I think I ran the first six (minus the first mile) at 6:30 or 6:20. I tried to slow down but I couldn’t. It’s New York! Those Brooklynites were just as loud as the stereotypes suggested. I even heard a cop say “fuggetaboutit.” Bands played. An orange haired lady of a certain age screamed her guts out.
Then reality sort of set in at around mile 8, and I was maybe a bit off pace. And I didn’t really feel as though I was running at my best... I don’t think I tapered enough. I kept running. I had this annoying voice telling me that it was OK if I quit, or if I slowed down. My strategy was just to tell him to shut up. I told him to shut up a lot during that run.
The rest of Brooklyn was blur. I was excited for Williamsburg because I heard the hips
ters live there. I wanted to shout, “Come on hipsters, you can cheer louder than that!” But I needed to conserve my energy because I was fading. There were a lot more rolling hills than I expected. (More on that later.) I peed in the port-o-potty. I took water at every water station during the race, which were about one mile apart. I ate Gu at every five miles or so. Also at Williamsburg there are more Hasidic Jews than I’ve ever seen before.
We entered Manhattan on some bridge that signaled the marathon was half over. I think I had a 1:28:30 pace, which is more or less where I wanted to be. If I could only hold on. Spoiler alert: I couldn’t. My first downfall was the Queensboro Bridge, which is death if you’re not familiar with the bridge. It’s a mile uphill and it’s difficult to make up for it on the downhill, even though there are a million of people cheering for you when you exit the bridge. As my friend, Dan, pointed out, there is a race description that warns of hills. I didn’t really think there were going to be a big deal though.
I don’t really remember a lot about Queens. (Same with the Bronx.) It’s kind of depressing there. God bless the spectators who came out to cheer. They were in the shade as those wonderful people in Manhattan who came out to cheer. They really shamed me into running as fast as I possibly could and to never give up.
I remember running in in Harlem due to a fantastic gospel choir in front of a church. It was probably one of the most interesting parts of the race because even though it’s been cleaned up, I don’t find myself wanting to go to Harlem for any reason. So I’m glad I had a chance to enjoy it.
The last five miles were really, really rough. I think I stopped at every water stati
on for ten seconds or so just to rest and regroup. At around mile 22, I decided that sub 3 was out, so I decided that I would just run it as fast as I can and be happy with the results. I chose to give the rest of what was left, and to enjoy myself. Central Park in the fall is wonderful. The thousands of people cheering everyone are amazing. Combined, it is an experience I will never forget. I know I looked like a hot mess coming down to 26 miles, then 26 and 100 meters, then 26 and 200 meters, etc.
My official time was 3:03:00. I’m satisfied with that. I don’t think I ever really merited a sub 3 marathon. If I had a good race, I could’ve done it. If there weren’t as many hills or people, I could’ve done it. The point is that I earned a 3:03:00, and I shaved 5+ minutes off of my old PR, so I’m not going to bemoan my accomplishment.
The walk toget my bags from the bag depot was literally a mile. I was not happy to walk that far, not because I thought the bags should be closer, but because I thought my legs were going to give out on me. There was really no reason that the bags should’ve been that far away. Moving on.
I got a burger with Cody, and hopped on the bus back to Washington, DC. The young lady behind me ran the marathon in 2:58:xx. I congratulated her, but secretly I thought that time should’ve been mine, mine, mine.
