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