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I can hardly believe that a week has already passed since I completed the NYC marathon, sometimes it feels like just a moment ago, other times I have to remind myself not to panic that I haven’t run this week as it’s done. As with my prior marathon efforts, I would like to share my experience with you as I know many of you are far away and unable to hear my recollections first hand. I also feel that by reading my account of the marathon, I can take you on the journey with me. A journey I would not have been able to take without your kindness, love and support.
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It’s 2am, I wake with a start. Did the clock on my iphone change properly? Is my alarm going to go off as needed at 4.15am? I check the iphone, phew, it’s updated for the clock change. I wake at 3am and repeat. And then at 4.15am the alarm goes off and I wake with a jump. It’s finally here.
Well, nearly.
What they don’t explain when you sign up to complete the NYC marathon is that the experience isn’t like any other marathon, for many reasons. I will cover these reasons as I continue, but the first thing you realize when you get your registration pack is that this is a BIG marathon. Approximately 45,000 people are getting ready to travel the 26.2 miles from Staten Island to Central Park and because of the sheer number of people, this race is organized differently to others I have completed. Although I am up at 4.15am, I won’t actually begin to run for 6.5 hours. And so the mental battles begin.
The race has three waves of approximately 15,000 runners – the first wave starts at 9.40am, the second at 10.10am and the third at 10.40am. Considering I am used to starting marathons at around 6am, it’s a whole different ball game for race day preparation.
You might wonder why I don’t simply get out of bed later and get some more shut eye before the race. Oh how us runners would have loved to. Alas, in order to get to the starting village before they close all the roads and bridges, I had to be on a Team in Training (TNT) bus by 6am. No lie in for me.
The journey to Staten Island was a little surreal. I’m on a full bus of nervous, excited, apprehensive TNT runners – I feel lucky to have the team and not be on my own. As we turn a corner my breath is taken away for I see the Verrazano Bridge for the first time in the dawn light. It’s magnificent and huge! The race feels closer almost instantly.
Off the bus we get into the frigid morning air – somewhere in the thirties they say, that means close to freezing my mind replies. I shuffle on with the other runners towards the entrance to the starting village – my race number is checked no less than 10 times. We can’t help wondering who would want to come to the village on this cold morning if they weren’t running the race. Into the starting village and the enormity of the event begins to dawn on me. I suddenly realize that 45,000 people are in the same place as me, walking the same steps as I am.
Luckily for me, the generosity from those who made donations means that I get to seek out the TNT charity tent in the charity village (yes, it’s so bit there are villages within the village). I say I am lucky, because at this point the wind has really picked up and it feels so cold I wonder whether I will be defrosted enough to run later. Inside the TNT tent the wind is kept at bay and we’re able to sit and wait out the time to the race start – about 4 hours for me. As always with TNT, you make new friends where ever you go and thanks to Meredith, my fingers are provided with the warmth of little heat pads in my gloves. Little did I know that I would be finishing the marathon with these little heat pads in my gloves!
As more people arrive to the tent carrying blankets and under many layers of clothing, I realize some have done this before and are far more prepared. Luckily my Mum spotted some cool disposable gear at the marathon expo the day before so I have one more layer to put on top of everything.
I can’t really explain how cold it was on Staten Island that day and how we all managed to wait out the hours slowly freezing before the start. As I look back I suppose I feel that the mental challenge of the marathon started before I crossed the start line.
Eventually the time comes for wave one to leave the tent, check their bag and get to their starting corrals. Then wave 2. I couldn’t wait around much longer after wave 2 went, the suspense was too much, so I ventured out to find my green village and after about 10 minutes of walking I found it – again I am reminded how big this event is.
I drop my bag off at the UPS van and turn around to look at the scene around me. A massive line of port-a-loos (potties in the US), the Verrazano Bridge overlooking everything, big screens showing wave 1 ready to go, thousands of people milling about around me. The race feels much closer now. And luckily, in the sun the temperature really doesn’t feel that bad (maybe because my toes were already frozen!).
I stand there and watch wave 1 start – the thousands still waiting to start in waves 2 and 3 loudly cheer on wave 1 as their heads bob just above the side of the bridge. The helicopters hover over them as they cross the bridge. The excitement in the air builds noticeably. Soon it will be our turn.
I seek out my corral entrance and join the line. Wave 2 are in the corrals now so we have to wait until they clear them before we can carry on our journey. Even in the cold, people are smiling. We know we’re getting closer. Our chance to do this is coming.
Wave 2 set off, again to the cheers from wave 3 runners. And we’re finally let into our corrals at about 10.15am. People begin to strip off, discarding the layers of clothing – the floor is littered with thousands of items of clothing. People start looking nervously around. We want to do this, we’ve waited to do this for so long, now we’re nearly at the start it begins to sink in that we’ve still got 26.2 miles to go! The journey feels long already.
We shuffle along to towards the start line – I am in wave 3, green, so I start on the lower level of the bridge and run that level. All tricks to ensure the race doesn’t get overcrowded.
And then we finally hear it, the starting horn for wave 3. Cheers go up – from ourselves as there’s few left in the village now. We’re on our way and I feel the emotion inside of me well up. I tell myself not to cry, I need to keep hydrated after all!
The first two miles of the race are the Verrazano Bridge – it’s huge, long, impressive and pretty cold. But none of us care, we’re all smiling, just happy to be on our way. I try to keep my pace slow and steady, but it’s hard not to get carried along with the crowd and the buzz of the runners.
As we come off the bridge we meet our first cheerers and observe more discarded clothing – impressive in the amount. It’s a highway for a little while, but it’s nice to hear the cheers and feel the body settle into running.
Eventually we turn into more residential Brooklyn and that is the first time I begin to feel like this is truly going to be like no other race – I can hear the cheering, I start to see the crowds. As I turn onto the main avenue that we run through Brooklyn on, I am awed at how many people have come out to cheer and support the runners. Even though we are the slowest part of the last wave, the crowds are still there cheering us as if we were up the front with the professional men and women. They make you feel like you’re a running celebrity, offering words of encouragement and some even saying thank you as they see the Team in Training singlet I am wearing.
We’re offered bananas, oranges, tissues, lollies, water and more from the spectators. It’s freezing, but they are stood there shouting every runner – it’s almost like they are proud of every single runner and it’s clear that they are proud of this race.
As we carry on through the miles in Brooklyn runners start to question whether we’re in Queens yet. I realize we haven’t even hit Williamsburg and thus are not near Queens yet…..so we go back to focusing on the cheers and sights and sounds around us. Some residents are making the whole event into a large party – music blaring from their houses, BBQs on the street, dancing and cheering. I admire these people for taking their Sunday and giving it to us.
As we hit mile 8 or so my hips start to feel pretty tight. I am used to my right hip giving up anywhere between mile 16-18 on a long run, but this is both hips and only mile 8. Not a great sign. So I play the game of trying to determine if this is one of those moments when a part of my body is just being a little weak or whether it’s one of those moments where my body is giving me a sign. Unfortunately, it was the latter. So I stopped to stretch it out and carried on.
By mile 12 the hips are screaming at me. Each step is an effort and I start looking out for my parents and Scott – even though I know they are close to mile 15, just the hope of seeing them sooner keeps me going round each corner. I pass the half way mark on the bridge into Queens and look left to see an amazing view of the Manhattan skyline. I feel lucky I have been given the opportunity to experience this and also happy that we’re past the half way mark – we’re on our way home in my mind.
I turn the corner before the Queensborough Bridge and see the sight I have been waiting for – the family cheering squad. Dad starts shouting, Scott is filming and Mum is ringing the cowbell and waving the signs like crazy. My own personal cheering squad. Stood there waiting for me to get to them even though it was freezing. Unfortunately, and I am going to use the pain as an excuse here, I may have been a little focused on receiving Tylenol from them and not been my cheery self J I haven’t seen the video Scott too yet, but I suspect it’s not too flattering!
But with renewed fuel bottles in the belt, Tylenol in the system and more powergel I was off onto the Queensborough Bridge.
When people ask me what was the hardest part of the race, the first thought that comes to mind is Queensborough Bridge. It’s about a mile long between miles 15 and 16, a pretty steep incline, and it was very cold as we were on the bottom level in the shade and exposed to the wind. At that point all the runners were suffering a little and crawling slowly up the bridge.
The one good thing about the bridge is that it did end and it ended in the most amazing way – as you come down the other side you start to hear the cheers and as you make the turn onto the roads again you see great crowds of people just going crazy for you. It’s a taste of things to come on First Avenue, and just the boost you need after the bridge. Amazing.
First Avenue is a mixture of good feelings and bad. You’re pretty much running up a constant hill to the Bronx, but the crowds are pretty constant all the way up reminding you of Brooklyn which by that point feels like an age ago. Sometimes I felt myself purely running on the energy of the crowd.
Getting near to the top of First Avenue my right knee decided that it was its turn to feel funny and for a few moments I couldn’t put any weight on it at all. It didn’t hurt, it just wasn’t going to support me anymore. Slowing down and hobbling on for a bit somehow it came back and allowed me to continue. I started to reflect on how good my body is to me – it allows me to travel 26.2 miles on foot in cold weather. I felt grateful, very grateful.
Into the Bronx we went and over yet another bridge. I look down the river to see the bridge that I will soon cross to get back into Manhattan and fear grips me – the only bridge I can see has cars, not runners crossing it. Where is the bridge I will be crossing?!! I try and block it out of my mind and focus on the big party the Bronx residents are having – music blaring, dancing, cheering. Buoyed again.
The Bronx part of the course winds round a little and you start to feel a little disorientated. A NYPD helicopter started hovering overhead and waving to us all – they even cheer from the air in NYC! We turned a corner and I saw the bridge, I start to feel slight elation – I know this is the last bridge, it leads us back into Manhattan, the last borough, it leads us home.
I am so busy grinning as we get across the bridge it slips my mind that Zach from work said he would cheer me on. And there he was, calling out my name, with a sign and a bag of goodies in case I needed anything. Again, people’s support and generosity astounds me and I feel very lucky.
Carrying on down 5th Avenue now, I look out again for the family cheer squad – I am so busy looking further down the avenue for them that I near go straight by my Dad! He jumps in to come along with us for a bit until we reach Mum and Scott. More cheering and more Tylenol J I’m still grinning, I know I am definitely on the way home and the next time I see them will be near the finish line.
Powering on towards Central Park I find a hill I didn’t realize existed on 5th Avenue and mutter and moan a little to the coaches who are out on this part of the course to help you along the last few miles. I’m still smiling though, I can see the Central Park entrance coming up. Although by this point it’s getting a little dark out.
Into the park and familiar running territory. I’m really excited, even though I’m pretty cold and tired, that doesn’t matter, I’m nearly at the finish line. I tell myself that I am going to run strong along the last stretch along 59th Street to Columbus Circle, but once again my right knee fails and for a moment I think I am going to have to hop to the finish line. A little hobbling and much swinging of arms and I feel steadier. As I come into the park for the final time, I pick out the silluoette of my Dad – a welcome sight for sure. I wave and see him run to Scott, Mum and Karen from work. They’re all cold, but give me an amazing cheer on and I feel like a celebrity with all the photos taken. I leave my fuel belt with them and turn towards the finish line.
At this point I don’t know where my strength comes from or how my knee and hips allow me to run as hard as I did towards the finish, but I ran and I ran hard. Likely my fasts few hundred metres of the whole race, and why not? It felt great to finish!
With the medal around my neck I happily posed for the official finish line photo with one of my biggest smiles. I DID IT!!! It took longer than I had hoped it would, 6 hours and 38 minutes, but I did it nonetheless. And $3,500 was raised for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society in the process.
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My journeys with Team in Training and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society began in January 2007. Back then I could never image what I have managed to achieve in the nearly 4 years running with them. I have now completed 3 full marathons and many half marathons. I have made many friends and learnt a lot about myself along the way. But most importantly I have now raised over $15,000 for the society and I have achieved my goal of making a difference in this lifetime.
I have had a lot of support over these years, support that I couldn’t have done this without. People have shown me generosity in terms of both donations and their care and love. Every time I reach the starting line it is because of my supporters and every finish line is reached by taking them with me.
Thank you so much to everyone who has been there for me, in any way, since I started this journey with TNT back in 2007 and thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to complete the NYC marathon and make a difference to so many. |
