2014 NYC Marathon Wrap Up

Let me be honest: I was worried about this year's Marathon.

Feeling under-trained is a common pre-race problem, but this year my concern was justified. Over the past six months, I've also been making significant adjustments to my running form, changes which have held up through modest training mileage. But 26.2 is another animal altogether. So, up and out the door well before dawn on Nov 2, I was already apprehensive about what the day had in store.

Nerves were NOT settled by an email from the New York Road Runners around 6:30 AM with the ominous subject line "IMPORTANT MESSAGE REGARDING HIGH WINDS."

It seemed that Mother Nature was going to have some fun with us before the day was done!

Indeed, the course was windy and COLD. Oh my goodness, it was cold. Fellow team members huddled beneath a large green tarp in the Charity Village before we were summoned to our start corrals.

I experienced sympathetic hypothermia watching the elite runners bound away from the starting line, wearing what amounts to basically Speedos and winter gloves. Mercy those folks are hardy!

With expectations low, I was pleasantly surprised when, twenty miles later, I appeared to be running well ahead of my previous time. In fact, this year I ran a personal best of 4:01:05. Go figure! Now, I had hoped to break four hours and, even so, four hours isn't that fast, but I was pleased nonetheless! Especially considering it's about 28 minutes faster than last year's pace. I am determined to break four; hopefully next year. And maybe someday a 3:30. Wouldn't that be something?

I want to reflect a bit about the nuts-and-bolts of what I've learned during the training process for this year's race, but first I need to say a few words about the real reason I was on the course in the first place: the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation. Every year I have the opportunity to run with the MMRF Team for Cures, I am more and more inspired by the organization and my fellow team mates. This year our team of 75 runners raised a combined total of over $250,000 dollars to fund research into new treatments for myeloma. We could not have done this without your generous donation! Thank you and be assured that your contribution will be put to use making a positive difference in the lives of those living with myeloma.

A few words about training…

Over the past couple of years, I've been researching how it is that some people manage to be life-long runners without suffering serious injury, while others struggle with chronic knee/ hip/ ankle pain. Someday I want to be one of those wiry seventy-five dudes who gracefully sails past the hard-pounding thirty year olds in the final 1600 meters of the NYC Half. (I know this is possible, because I've been the younger half of this scenario several times.) It's at once inspiring and profoundly demoralizing!

Clearly, every body is unique and endurance running involves a complex set of kinetic systems, but it has become abundantly clear to me that finding my own proper form is key to longterm athletic wellbeing. And this process is more difficult than it might seem at first. First and foremost, it has required me to re-think old habits. Or, more precisely, to become aware of (and alter) habits I didn't even realize I had. The best example of this is foot-strike. Until about six months ago, I would have described myself as a gentle heel-striker; that is, with each stride the heel of my advancing foot strikes the ground first, followed by mid-foot, ball, etc... Until this year, such a condition had caused me no problems, but early this summer I experienced a worrisome pain in my right knee. The pain was sharp, but what really freaked me out was a very slight accompanying *click.* “This,” I said to myself, “cannot be good.” Fortunately, I'm old enough (and have been running long enough) to know the difference between an inconsequential pain that can be safely ignored, and the kind of pain that demands attention. This pain was, I suspected, of the latter group.

So, beginning in the spring I made an effort to explore different foot strikes. Initially, making the shift from heel-strike to mid foot/forefoot-strike is awkward and feels totally ridiculous. But the inefficiency of the heel strike becomes immediately apparent. Most importantly, the high impact transient associated with heel-striking is undeniable. Based on this experience, I made a concerted effort to change my foot strike, splitting up my spring runs between habitual heel-strike and “new” mid foot-strike. This required that I grit my teeth through some VERY sore calves and buy a new pair of “transitional” running shoes with less artificial stability built in and a lower “drop” (differential between height of heel and toe of the shoe). By the time my marathon training peaked, I was running entirely mid foot.

The transition has required me to re-think my approach to running, but the change has been extremely gratifying. I’m also convinced that it has improved my efficiency and will reduce my risk of injury by lowering the impact on my joints. I can't say with certainty that increased efficiency contributed to my PB last Sunday, but I strongly suspect that it did. In any case, I look forward to future experimentation...

                                                               ... and future races!

By the way, if you’re interested in seeing the heel-strike vs. fore foot-strike in action:


                                   ... versus...



The key here is to pay attention to the impact transient, represented on the graphs by the initial steep spike at the initiation of each foot-strike.

And here’s a fun video that makes the argument for efficient foot-strike from the perspective of evolutionary biology:

We did it!

MMRF NYC Marathon Team 2013

As you can imagine, there was considerable apprehension leading up to this year’s NYC Marathon. 

The cancellation of last year’s race due to Hurricane Sandy and the horrific events in Boston this past April were very much on the minds of runners and organizers as Sunday dawned.  The morning was chilly and a stiff westerly breeze was blowing out the flags above Fort Wadsworth as charity buses began arriving at the staging area.  Security was extremely tight at the entrance to the Fort and runners were greeted by lines of ferociously armed NYPD Counter Terrorism officers.  Despite the distinctly military welcome, once we reached the far side of the security cordon, the mood returned to elated jittery expectation.  Very much business as usual.  Fifty thousand runners from around the world milled about the Fort complex in various states of discomfort, but good natured camaraderie prevailed.

Photo courtesy of MMRF

As always, our incomparable MMRF Endurance Team organizers (Jane Hoffman and Alicia O’Neil) took great care of us.  The MMRF tent was a welcome shelter against the cold and there was an encouraging esprit de corps amongst the runners, many of whom have a close personal connection to multiple myeloma.  The determination, grit, and commitment of this group is always an inspiration.

After a few chilly minutes in the start corrals, my wave start got underway at 10:05 AM.  The first few miles of the race lead across the Verrazzano Narrows Bridge, which connects Staten Island to southwest corner of Brooklyn.  After the chaos of the staging area and the boom of the start cannon, this section of the race can seem strangely quiet.  Not so this year. 

From http://running.competitor.com/2013

This year, the occasional whoops of excited runners were completely drowned out by the deafening sound of helicopter rotors.  It was surreal to see a lethal looking NYPD chopper hanging just above the bridge’s deck on the north side.  Is it possible to feel simultaneously menaced and comforted?  Of course, the runners took it all in stride, waving to the cops inside and running to the edge of the roadway to snap photos on their iPhones. 

Sign of the times, I suppose.

After this strange scene on the Bridge, the race settled into a familiar pattern: the early supporters lining the overpasses, the great convergence of runners at 75th Street in Bay Ridge, the long haul up 4th Ave, and the eventual swoop around the Williamsburg Savings Bank building onto Lafayette Ave.  It’s overwhelming how enthusiastic the crowds are in the heart of Brooklyn.  Despite last year’s cancellation, it’s clear that New Yorkers still love their marathon.  And so many signs of solidarity with our friends in Boston; signs, flags, photos, and remembrances displayed by runners and spectators, alike.  

Along narrow Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg, the cheering is so intense it’s almost frightening.  Williamsburg is also justly famous for its impressive diversity of beards; glorious in their density and variety, like magnificent human topiary.  I confess to a little nostalgia running through our old neighborhood, with it’s cafes, dive bars, and artisanal meatball restaurants.

Along this stretch of road, I saw friends in the crowd: Chris and Teke in Williamsburg, and Chi Wai and Joern just north in Greenpoint.  It’s hard to overstate the boost one gets from seeing friends along the course.  It really makes all the difference in the world.  (Thanks for coming out, y’all!)

And then we reached the Pulaski Bridge.  The Pulaski isn’t much to look at; a squat, industrial, thoroughly utilitarian bridge spanning the phenomenally polluted Newtown Creek.  This bridge links Brooklyn (Greenpoint) to Queens (Long Island City), but more importantly, it marks mile 13.1 of the marathon.  Exactly halfway from the start.  As runners climb the span of the Pulaski, faces become somber. The collective mood turns from exuberance to grim determination.  The rush of huge crowds in Brooklyn is passed, bodies are beginning to hurt, and we still have a long, long, long way to go.  In fact, this is where the race really begins.  The runner’s brief sojourn in Queens is a blur, except for the 59th Street Bridge, which is always the point where things get gritty.  Runners begin slowing down, some stopping along the span to work out cramps.

Photo by Bill McBain

Coming off the Bridge, the hairpin left-hand loop onto First Ave in Manhattan gives us the first peek at the Borough which holds the finish line.  Actually, if we could just run directly west along 59th Street into Central Park, the finish would be less than three miles distant.  Alas, no.  We still have the long pull up First Ave through Harlem and across the Willis Ave Bridge into the Bronx.  Here’s an interesting bit of race psychology: the marathon organizers always station official race photographers along the Willis Ave Bridge, a point at which one DESPERATELY wants to walk a few paces to recover.  But you don’t want photos of yourself walking the course, so you keep running.  Well played, NYRR. Well played.

Miles 21 through 22.5 bring us south along 5th Ave to the extreme northeast corner of Central Park.  This is by far the cruelest section of the course.  Between 110th Street and the sudden right turn into the Park at 89th Street, 5th Ave is one long, steady, extremely gradual ascent.  So gradual, in fact, that if you were enjoying a casual stroll down 5th Ave on a Saturday afternoon, you probably wouldn’t even notice.  But after having run 23 miles, believe me, you notice the uphill, however mild.  It might as well be K2.  

At this point in this year's race I realized that I was not going to achieve my target finish time.  A deep breath, a twinge of disappointment, and a re-focusing on the task at hand: let’s finish this thing.  

Here’s another factor that makes the final three miles such a test of will: everything you see and hear along the Central Park section of the course screams “celebration!” Everybody seems to be having such a good time; runners, spectators, even the squirrels are cheering.  But by this stage in the race, just putting one foot in front of the other hurts like heck.  So, it’s hard to avoid the impression that everybody else is having more fun than you are.  It’s kind of like freshman year of college.

At last, the hard right turn at the bottom of the Park, the struggle along Central Park South to the southwest corner, and the quick right-hand turn towards the finish line.  Finally, the blessed distance markers come into view: 800 meters, 400 meters, 200 meters, 100 meters...

And we’re done.

Tired souls at the finish

Now, a few words about time.  I did not run my fastest race last Sunday.  Not by a long shot.  My official time was 4:28:21, a full 30 mins over my target.  What happened?  No excuses, but I will admit to under-training this year.  Let that be my lesson: if I want to run a personal best, I can’t skip workouts.  I also need to eat more.  Nevermind, there’s always next year.  By the way, if anybody wants to check out my splits, I've included a link to my Garmin data at the bottom of this post.  (GPS is really, really, really cool.)

I remind myself that disappointment at missing my target finish time totally misses the point of this event.  With the great generosity and support of family and friends, I was able to meet (and exceed) my fund-raising goal for the MMRF.  This is the number which really matters!  My final tally for this year was $3,150.00 and our team total for the marathon was $352,500.00.  These are funds which will go directly to research into improving the lives of those living with multiple myeloma.

So, my deepest thanks to everyone for the overwhelming support: financial, emotional, and otherwise.  With any luck, I’ll be running again next year...

Forward!

- B

The Race That Wasn't

As most of you already know, this year's NYC Marathon was cancelled.  

On Sunday, November 4th, 47,000 runners from all over the world did not embark from Staten Island to complete the colorful 26.2 mile course across the City.  

Raucous crowds did not line the streets throughout each of the five Boroughs to cheer the runners.

This morning, thousands of participants did not awaken to find their bodies sore and their hearts full.

What happened instead was, in many respects, more remarkable.  It was certainly more consequential.  And I say this as someone who loves the Marathon.  This would have been my fourth year as a runner and I've become deeply attached to this quixotic annual celebration of our city.  So, I do love this race.  But I love NYC more.  In the final analysis, I believe that many New Yorkers (including the race's organizers) came to the same conclusion this year.

Some context: Sub-tropical Storm Sandy made landfall just south of Atlantic City, NJ around 8:00 PM on Monday, October 29th.  The following 12 hours were harrowing for many in the Tri-State area, but only as the sun rose on Tuesday morning did the full extent of Sandy's destruction become apparent.  Entire communities along the Atlantic had been swallowed by the massive storm surge; including parts of Atlantic City, Hoboken, eastern Staten Island, Breezy Point, and the Rockaways.  Thousands of residents throughout the New York City metro area had been forced to evacuate their homes and many more, even now, are without heat or electricity.  With temperatures falling as autumn leans towards winter, in many parts of our city this emergency is far from over.

In the days immediately following Sandy, race organizers announced that the Marathon would take place as scheduled.  They insisted that race preparations would not divert city resources away from the recovery efforts and that the Marathon would be a much needed morale boost for the entire city.  By the end of the week, however, the tide of public opinion had turned.  Finally, in recognition that this year's race had become a lightening-rod for anger and controversy, the city belatedly announced the cancellation of the race late on Friday afternoon.  I have no doubt that this was a very difficult decision to make, but the level of outrage expressed by local politicians, pundits, and tabloids apparently took race organizers completely by surprise.  Indeed, from afar this might appear to be a very simple matter: during a city-wide crisis requiring mobilization of all available resources, it would be unthinkable to proceed with an indulgence as facile as a foot race, right?  

But I would encourage you to judge our decision-makers mercifully.  They believed that the best way to support the city and to help effect a rapid recovery was to proceed with the race as planned.  Perhaps they believed, as suggested by Mayor Bloomberg, that we should follow Rudy Giuliani's lead in the aftermath of September 11th, 2001 and press ahead with the race as an act of defiance.  Or perhaps they were blinded by their own attachment to the marathon's ideals and to a sense of obligation to their runners.  In any case, they miscalculated badly.  

It's hard to explain, but the NYC Marathon is a unique institution.  Among participants this race inspires a loyalty as fierce as the determination required to complete its course.  And in its finest incarnation, the Marathon is a grand celebration of precisely those qualities which make NYC superlative: diversity, grit, determination, fearlessness, joy, creativity and exuberance.  After 42 uninterrupted years, canceling the Marathon could have been seen as an unacceptable capitulation to circumstance.

But you simply CANNOT set up massive diesel generators in Central Park to power a Marathon "Media Center" when tens of thousands of NYC residents are struggling without power in their homes.  You CANNOT ask hundreds of volunteers to stand along the 26 miles of the course handing out food and hydration to runners when there are senior citizens living in emergency evacuation centers, uncertain where their next meal will come from.  And you CERTAINLY CANNOT set up a massive staging area in Fort Wadsworth with amenities for recreational marathoners, when thousands of Staten Islanders have seen their homes and livelihoods washed away only days earlier.  

This goes beyond poor public relations - this is a matter of basic human decency.

I am proud that the city government and race organizers had enough backbone to reverse course and correct their initial miscalculation.  I'm sure it was not easy, but it was the correct thing to do.  The cancellation of the race was a disappointment for thousands of runners who came from near and far to take part in this amazing event, but disappointment is inconsequential in comparison to the suffering of the city's most vulnerable residents.  I've spoken to a handful of fellow would-be runners over the past few days and, without exception, they have expressed the following sentiment:  "Yeah, I'm disappointed, but I get it.  Now, what can I do to help?"  

And THAT is more remarkable than the Marathon's cancellation.  Sunday became an unofficial day of service; a day which saw hundreds of volunteers (including marathon hopefuls) pitching in to help with relief efforts.  Had the race proceeded as planned, there was a real possibility that bitterness could have won the day.  Instead, creative energies were redirected toward the city's most critical priorities: recovery, mutual assistance, and civic responsibility.  

This makes me proud to be a New Yorker.  

There are hundreds of organizations doing vital work to help the city recover.  Here are a few of my favorites:

Occupy Sandy Relief

http://bit.ly/SsbIOj

Greenpoint Church (food pantry and soup kitchen)

http://bitly.com/9aeilE

Food Bank for New York City

http://bit.ly/ahtB3S

And if you feel moved to donate to the relief effort, here is a site set up by the Mayor to collect funds for recovery:

Mayor's Fund to Advance New York City

http://on.nyc.gov/ZUWEs

This was certainly not the Marathon experience anybody expected.  To those who contributed to my MMRF fundraising-effort: thank you, thank you, thank you!!  I did not run the requisite 26.2 miles on Sunday, but I promise to make up for it in the wintery months to come.  In any case, the critical work of the MMRF goes on and the critical importance of your donation has in no way been diminished by the cancellation of this year's race.

Besides, there's always 2013!

For all those who have given moral, spiritual or financial support to NY/ NJ during the past difficult days, you have my heartfelt thanks.  For those in the region who are still struggling to regain normalcy: hang in there and call me if I can help.

With love and gratitude.

Forward!

- Ben

P.S.  And for heaven's sake, people, please VOTE TOMORROW!!!

High altitude fun!

Yikes!  I'm falling behind in blog-land - clearly I’m overdue for an entry.  (What was it a great man once said? “Blogging’s what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans...”)

The last three weeks have been heavy on business travel and light on marathon training.  With five weeks to go, I’m realizing how much work I have to do - both in terms of physical preparation and fund-raising.  Spending time on the road does give me the opportunity to run in some fascinating places, though.  

For example, three weeks ago I spent time in Salt Lake City.  Since I was staying outside Salt Lake, near Park City, I took advantage of the AMAZING hiking trails which wind their way up the mountainside behind the town.  Of course, I’d forgotten the joys of training at altitude.  It’s a humbling experience, no doubt.  

Self: “Hey, let’s run this 5 miler as a negative split, whaddya say?” 

Lungs: “Nah.... not so much.”

In any case, the Deer Valley Resort offers some stunning trails with phenomenal views of the valley stretching away to the northwest.  There’s something magical about deserted ski resorts in the summertime; the sense of isolation one gets from trekking up dusty, isolated trails which will be teeming with skiers come January.  

To find one particular trailhead, I had to pass through a lodge complex at Silver Lake which was a cross between an average suburban shopping mall and the Overlook Hotel from The Shining.  Is it possible for a place to be, at once, twee and sinister?  

And aside from the occasional lycra-encased mountain biker (predominantly middle-aged gentlemen wearing unfortunate Okley wrap-arounds) I more or less had the place to myself.  Solitude and clean air in abundance; very different from my usual training routes around Brooklyn.  At least in NYC I don't have to worry about getting mugged by a gila monster or carried off by an eagle.  (joke)

Now that I'm back in the Big City (thankfully, at sea level) I'll be returning to my regular routine - which will include, between now and race day, the "peak" and "taper" phases of my training regimen.  The final push is now!  

Avanti!

Reflections on Race Day :: 2011

It's hard to believe that over a week has passed since the 42nd running of the NYC Marathon! Predictably, it's been a period of reflection and recovery. The week after the race is always a time of adjustment; after four months of training there's an inevitably sense of melancholy. (The training manual refers to this as "Post Marathon Syndrome.") But there's also a strong feeling of completion and gratitude. Thanks to everyone who supported this effort! With your generosity, this year I raised $3,000.00, and collectively the MMRF 2011 NYC Marathon Team generated over $530,000.00! Here's a photo of the group just before the race. (I'm not actually in this picture... I had already headed to the corrals for an early wave start. Just pretend I'm one of the tall guys in the back.)

The race itself was, as always, a remarkable experience.

Since the MMRF bus departs from Central Park South at 6 AM sharp, marathon Sunday always begins early... but the coffee helps. (Yeah - check the digital readout on the stove... THAT'S an early start.) A note about riding the NYC subway super-early on a Sunday morning: most of the folks riding the train at that hour are just coming home after a long night on the town; some of them looking rather worse-for-wear. Some looking downright "left-over." Of course, this invites the obvious question: who's going to feel worse at noon? The hung-over reveler, or the fools who just completed a 26.2 mile run? This question always sucks some of the wind out of my smugness-sails.

One of my favorite moments each year is the slow ride across the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. Dawn hits us as we reach mid-span and the morning colors are vibrant beyond belief... and it's always humbling to imagine the distance to the finish line; it's just a tiny speck somewhere beyond the Empire State Building. And the mood on the bus is electric - equal parts caffeine-buzz, happy-nervous energy, and anticipation.

My wave start this year took to the starting line a 10:10 AM and, I've got to say, the NY Road Runners run a pretty tight ship! After forty-two years organizing this race, they've clearly figured out the most efficient way to get 47,000 runners off their marks with a minimum of hassle. If you want to see what I mean, check out this video shot by the New York City Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA). It's a time-lapsed video of the start of the race, shot from the Verazano Narrows Bridge. The first wave of runners are the elites (Los Super-Speedy). The second and third waves are the plebs, like myself. (I'm somewhere in wave two.) Watching this video gives an amazing perspective on the race. It makes you realize what a MASSIVE logistical undertaking this is.

Once our team bus arrived at Ft. Wadsworth, we had a couple of hours to cool our heels; drink coffee, snack on bagels and chat. The MMRF rolls out a very civilized spread for its runners, including a charity tent where we can keep warm. (It's chilly at 7 AM in November in NYC! Who knew?) Here's a snap of a few of us at the tent, hanging the MMRF banner.

("Left side down! A little more... a little more!!)

And before we knew it, it was time to head to the starting corrals! I approached this year's race a little differently than in previous years. Marathoners are often reminded: "It's not about who runs the fastest, it's about who slows down the least." While this may sound like a bizarre runner's platitude, during the first five miles of a marathon, you realize how practical this advice actually is. The tendency is to channel all one's pent-up nervous energy into a fast pace during the early stages, only to run out of gas in the home stretch. To some extent, this happened to me the first time I ran the NYC Marathon in 2009. But conserving during the first half of the race helps ensure your viability during the second half. So, this year I made a point of maintaining a slower pace at the start. And this is not easy to do; especially when folks are whipping past you left and right. I just had to keep reminding myself that I would be much, MUCH happier at mile 16 if I stuck to the "slow and steady" plan.

Speaking of mile 16....

This year I got a huge boost right around mile 16 (between miles 17 and 18, to be precise)! The MMRF sets up a "Cheer Zone" on First Ave at 89th St and this year Marie, Ramon and Jennifer were there cheering us on. Getting a big kiss from Marie, and a few words of encouragement, helped propel me jubilantly the rest of the way up First Ave... and over into the Bronx! While it's great to see the entire marathon course lined by cheering strangers, seeing friendly faces at mile 17+ made all the difference in the world!

And here's the good news: this year I shaved five minutes off last year's time, crossing the finish line at 4:03:56. Here's the searchable results page on the NYRR website. If you want to see my splits, just put "Strevens" in the name field. My hope had been to break that psychologically significant 4 hour mark, but it was not to be... this year. That gives me a goal to work for next year: my mantra will be "3:59:59."

Fortunately (or unfortunately), the MMRF had a team photographer near the finish line in Central Park. This photo must have been taken within two miles of the finish.

At this point in the race, everybody is "digging deep;" you're almost at the finish, but not quite close enough to begin your happy sprint across the finish-line. It's a tricky balance to maintain focus, while appreciating the approaching culmination of months of training. Oh, and there are thousands of screaming people lining the entire route from the entrance to the park at 90th Street to the finish line.

Thanks again to everyone who supported this effort! I hope you'll join me for another round of training and fund-raising in 2012.

With much love and gratitude!

Forward!

Pushing the (fund-raising) envelope!

Exciting news, y'all! Over the weekend I hit my fund-raising target of $2,500.00. (Thanks Audrey, Paul and Elizabeth!) Since we've hit this mark with a full week to go before the race, let's push the envelope! I've increased my target to $3,000.00. With your continued generosity, I'm sure we can get there.

http://www.active.com/donate/2011mmrfNYC/TeamLinford

Last weekend, the MMRF PowerTeam held it's annual pre-marathon run with Coach Tom Holland. As in past years, we ran the last ten miles of the official NYC marathon course. (From 1st and 60th, up the Eastside, over the Willis Ave Bridge into the Bronx, then back down 5th through Harlem to Central Park.) Here's a team photo that was taken at the start. This is not the full team, mind you; only the folks who were able to make it out for a run two Sunday's ago. Dig the high-visibility orange!

Forward!

Reflections on a cold, rainy morning

Looking out my living room window, I see that much of the city has been obscured from view by a damp, oppressive sky. A fine spray of rain is lashing the apartment building across the block. This is not encouraging me to lace up for run.

Or am I making excuses? Would a truly committed runner shed his "jammies," put down his second cup of coffee and brave the elements for the sake of athletic integrity?

On the other hand, getting a cold one week before race day would be foolish.

So, this is the conundrum we runners face as autumn transitions into fall: push through nasty weather, or play it safe and use our best judgement. The trouble is it's awfully difficult to tell the difference between the whiney voice in your head that says "I just don't want run today because I don't feel like it," from the voice of reason that says, "Running today would be foolish and irrational."

Griping about bad weather aside, the past few months of training have been deeply gratifying, if a little uneven. Every year, as I'm logging miles in preparation for the marathon, I feel like I learn a little more about the chaotic, impossible, magnificent city I live in. Exploring new routes, especially for those longer runs, takes me through unfamiliar neighborhoods and I'm constantly astounded by the extraordinary vistas this city has to offer. And most of these views are not accessible by car!

For example, here's one I found during a recent thirteen miler. This is the view running up the West Side from Battery Park; looking north from the back steps of the Winter Garden, you get this stunning panorama of glass and steel, including the partially completed One World Trade Center. (They're up to floor 80, with another 20+ to go!)

So, inclement weather aside, I would encourage everyone who wants to get to know NYC to get out of the car and pick up a pair of running shoes!

By the way, we're only one week away from the marathon! Anticipation builds even as blisters and sore muscles heal. Anybody who's going to be in NYC on race day: check out the official marathon spectator's guide. They've included some good tips here.

More to come in the next week...