Yesterday I ran my the NYC marathon, my first! It was an insane, incredible experience. My day started at 6:30 a.m. with a full eight hours' of sleep (yay time change). The morning sped by: After taking the 7:30 Staten Island Ferry, buses carted us to the starting village, which was enormous. Everywhere I turned, there was a runner doing something weird, like massaging their toes or rubbing themselves with Vaseline. By the time I dropped off my bag, stood in line for the bathroom, and ate my bagel breakfast, it was time to head to my corral. I have to had it to the NYRR people -- the whole experience was so well orchestrated; I felt like a sheep being herded from one place to the next.
In line, I chatted with the people around me, like the 65-year-old dude who's done 15 marathons and an Ironman -- all while dressed in a tuxedo. People are amazing. While I was waiting, my friend Hannah popped up in front of me. What are the odds with 50,000-plus runners?
After the song "New York, New York," excited screams, and a very loud starting boom...we were off! Those two miles on the bridge were amazing: It was just a sea of runners for as far as the eye could see, set across the backdrop of the Manhattan skyline. Seriously, a view I'll never, ever forget. To our left, a police chopper hovered, like something out of James Bond movie. I was so amped that I barely noticed the steep incline. It's such an incredible, giddy moment: I was running the NYC marathon!
From there, the course took us through south Brooklyn, Park Slope, and Fort Greene. The energy was electric, and I couldn't stop grinning. I had to consciously watch my Garmin and slow down to my goal pace of 10-minute miles. Although everyone tells you to go out slow, it's really, really hard to reign it in because of all of the excitement and adrenaline. After the turn at my old Bed-Stuy apartment, we ran through the quieter stretch of South Williamsburg, where I reflected on how grateful I was to be able to run this race. Being injured for the past few weeks made me realize what an enormous gift it is to be able-bodied and healthy.
The next stretch through Williamsburg was my favorite, because that's where my friends were hanging. Erik was the first person I spotted, and I was so happy to see his handsome face! I gave him a kiss, said hi to Glenna, and then jogged up to high-five all my friends in front of the Gibson. I so wanted to join their party, but knew my legs would hate me -- so I forced myself to keep on keepin' on.
From there, the course took us over the Pulaski bridge, through Queens, which wasn't quite as exciting as Brooklyn but still pumping with crowds. Next came the Queensboro bridge, which isn't that bad of an incline, just long and quiet. It's at this point where you can feel a noticeable energy dip in the runners as people start to realize that they're tired. I was still feeling pretty good, so I listened to music, read people's shirts (so, so many inspirational stories), and took in the cool view of Manhattan.
The next stretch down First Avenue was one big party, full of cheers and funny signs. The water stops are matted with Gatorade cups and slippery banana peels (!), so I concentrated on not falling flat on my face. The avenue is a long, gradual incline, so by the time I got to the Bronx, my hips were tight and legs felt heavy. Still, I was pretty pumped during miles 20 and 21. I was going to finish this thing! To take my mind off of my legs, I popped in my earbuds again and let Katy Perry pace me through the next stretch.
Then came the Fifth Avenue incline. Ugh! This was the hardest mile of the race for me. Runners around me slowed down to a walk, and I really, really wanted to join them. But I knew I'd be disappointed in myself, so I gave my stern talking-to and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. My mantra: "If you believe, you can achieve." I also thought about my little dad, and everything he taught me about determination and hard work.
The next three miles were an emotional roller coaster: I fluctuated between angry (who designed this effing course?!); teary (a man ahead of me was wearing a shirt dedicating the race to the memory of his beloved son); grateful (so many wonderful people cheering me on); and ecstatic (thank heavens, a mile marker!). It's true what they say about running the last few miles with your heart. By this point, my legs were exhausted, so it was pure determination that kept me going! At mile 26, I didn't have anything left to sprint, so I tossed my hands up in victory and jogged through the finish line.
My final time was 4:33, a little short of Oprah's time but way ahead of Pamela Anderson! I went through a lot to get that finish line -- last year's training and cancellation; this year's wedding and travel; and three weeks of a hurt foot -- so I couldn't be more proud of myself. I DID IT!!!
Whee! I can't recommend this experience enough...the whole race was so well-run and absolutely magical. It was worth all of the effort and every cent. It reminded me of the power of the human spirit (have you seen this?), and made me fall in love with the city so much more: Oh, NYC, you've kicked my ass countless times, but you're always, always worth it. Final takeaway? Dear reader, if you ever have the chance to run the NYC marathon, DO IT. Getting entry is a pain for sure, but it's such a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You won't regret it!
PS: I had to include this proof. Don't you love all the emotions in it?!
No comments:
Post a Comment