The 2008 NYC Marathon – Recap of a 5 Borough Tour

Background

If I had to make a list of life goals, running the New York City marathon (or any marathon, for that matter), would *not* be on it. To be honest, I've never really thought of myself as an athlete at all. I've always enjoyed taking long walks, and I like hiking, but sports have never been a big draw.

So how did I wind up running a marathon? It was a slippery slope. 5 1/2 years ago I started to get regular exercise, and going to a gym. 2 1/2 years ago I ran outside for the first time without getting completely out of breath, thanks to a couple of friends suggesting I try running with a heart monitor. Two years ago I ran my first half-marathon, and was completely hooked on distance running.

But a marathon? There's a big difference between running 13.1 miles and running 26.2 miles. I still wasn't sure. Then, as I approached my 40th birthday, it occurred to me that running my first marathon would be a great way to celebrate turning 40: a way to shake off the blues and say, "life is exciting and filled with possibilities."


Training

But there were still those 13.1 extra miles. On my own, I find it easy to go out on a Saturday and run between 8 and 11 miles (yes, I know that's strange), but I knew I'd need help if I was going to build up to marathon level. I decided to sign up with Team in Training.

Team in Training (aka "TNT") is a fundraising branch of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. They've raised hundreds of millions of dollars for research into blood cancers (which helps research into all cancers), and they also provide money for services for people fighting blood cancers, such as counseling, co-payments, and taxis from the hospital after chemotherapy. I was proud to help raise money, and the cause became even more meaningful when I found out that my father's childhood friend Bob had recently been diagnosed with lymphoma.

Training was... challenging. It lasted about half a year. Hill repeats, improving my running form, speed workouts, and other things that if you don't know about them, you're probably happier. There were times when I felt like nothing could stop me, and there were times when I felt as weak as a kitten.

At this point I need to give a special shout-out to my head coaches Michael and Lisa, who gave tons of helpful advice and support, including the fact that everybody has horrible runs from time to time, and you can still do a marathon even if your planned 15 mile run becomes an 8 mile jog followed by a 2 mile limp.

Also, a shout-out to assistant coach Luis who, after I pushed myself through a 15 mile run in truly awful humidity, chuckled and gave me the following encouraging words:

"You're crazy!"

He was absolutely right. But I needed to prove to myself that I had the mental toughness to keep moving even when conditions were terrible and I just wanted to stop.


The Cast of Characters

Here are some more people I'd like to mention:

• Maureen: my girlfriend. Supportive, affectionate, a little worried at points about my health, and very excited on race day. She had to move to a new apartment two days before the race (which, as far as I'm concerned, was her own marathon), so we were both busy and under a lot of pressure in the two weeks leading up to the race. It is *very* nice to have that period of time behind us.

• Cathy: my TNT mentor, who always had tremendous amounts of cheer, encouragement, medical advice, and faith that every one of her mentees could cross the finish line.

• Jean: my running partner. A couple of months into training there was a 5K run where we found ourselves going at the same pace. We've run together ever since, and gabbed a lot, so I got to share my excitement at meeting Maureen, and she got to tell me all about her fiancee, Jim. Late in the season we failed to find each other at the start of a half-marathon, and we still somehow ran 13.1 miles within 6 seconds of each others' time.

• My family: thrilled about my running a marathon, and out there on race day to cheer me on.


Race Day

All week long I paid obsessive attention to the weather. Would it be cold? Hot? Rainy? Snowing? As it turned out, it was perfect running weather: coolish, but clear. The crowds would be out to cheer, and we wouldn't get overheated.

I got about 6 hours of sleep (which isn't bad, considering nerves), and woke up to the DJ on the radio saying, "blah blah blah blah, and if you're running the marathon today, good luck!" That put a smile on my face: I've never gotten anything vaguely like a shout-out on the radio before.

I'd laid out my clothing the night before, and even packed everything that I was going to take with me. I'd even pinned my race number on my racing singlet. The less I had to think in the morning, the better.

Up out of bed. Apply "Body Glide" (to prevent chafing). Rub on sunscreen (4+ hours in the sun is 4+ hours in the sun, regardless of temperature). Put on layers. Get a little to eat. Grab bag. Go.

One key piece of running advice that I've come to really appreciate is, "nothing new on race day". Don't try new clothing or sneakers. Don't eat anything that you've never eaten before. Stick to what you know works.

I'd experimented with a lot of different breakfast foods during training and found that a bowl of Kashi "Autumn Wheat" cereal with a bit of milk worked best. The only tricky thing was that the race started at 10 (which felt like 11, because we rolled back the clocks that night), and I needed to eat a couple of hours before running. This meant dragging cereal and milk out to the race. I used a couple of plastic cups to hold the cereal, and brought a rinsed-out Pom Wonderful container to hold the milk.

The subway took forever to arrive. Okay, technically it took 15 minutes, but it felt like forever. I got out at the Whitehall station, across the street from the ferry, and started to jog towards it. A woman with an official t-shirt said, "Don't run! Don't run! They've got extra ferries today!" in a tone of voice that suggested she'd been saying that to a lot of semi-panicked marathoners.


Staten Island – The Start

So there I was on Staten Island, sitting with my running partner Jean, and munching a bowl of cereal while 39,000 nervous people milled around us. That's when I got a final supportive text message from Maureen (ending with "good luck! you're amazing!"), which made me feel... well... amazing.

After I munched down my last bit of cereal, Jean suggested that we find the press tent. Jean is a member of the press, and was able to get us into it, which was especially great because it was heated!

For the most part, the beginning of the race was really well organized. The logistics of getting 39,000 people together, taken care of (water and port-a-potties), and across a start line can't be easy. We had a difficult time finding the trucks to store our bags, and the press tent was almost as hidden as the Grail ("What is your quest?" "I seek the Press Tent."), but in general we found where we needed to be, and there was plenty of water.

I'm afraid I don't have much to say about Staten Island itself, because you start the race by leaving it. ("And good riddance to you," would be an understandable reaction from the Staten Islanders.)

My former colleague Gillian ran NYC last year and said that it took her about 40 minutes to get to the start line. This year they divided the starts into 3 parts (9:40, 10:00, and 10:20), and I have to say, it really worked. I would guess it took us 5 minutes to walk to the start, and we were pretty far back. The line kept moving smoothly.

A note for those among you who believe in the importance of Making the World a Better Place: the organizers of the NYC marathon realize that the runners need to dress warmly before the race, and need to discard the extra layers before they start. They collect the extra clothing and donate it to those in need.

(A note to those who are less high-minded: the NYC marathon starts with 39,000 relatively fit people stripping.)

The first two miles of the race are on the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, which is a really huge suspension bridge. The views are amazing when going over it by foot. It's also pretty steep, but we took it slowly and steadily, and it went really well. Manhattan and Brooklyn stretched out to our left. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out to our right.

Two women ahead of us were talking on their cell phones as they ran, which was either impressive or ridiculous.

All of us seemed in a good mood.

The wind was cool, the sky was clear, and we had about 2 million people ahead waiting to cheer us on. It was time to get started.


Brooklyn – The Best Crowds

Coming down off the bridge and entering Brooklyn was really exciting. I grew up as a Manhattanite, but converted to Brooklyn-ism six years back (after a lot of soul-searching), and like all converts I feel the need to show how much I belong.

Ah, Brooklyn! Pride of poets and artists! How beautiful thy brownstones! How green thy parks! Truly, thou art a glowing tapestry of vibrant cultures.

Consider, for example, the blend of people cheering on the sidelines in Bay Ridge. This is a neighborhood that has been traditionally Italian-American, and now has a good number of Middle-Eastern and North Africans, and some miscellaneous middle-class folks who got priced out of other neighborhoods. A few runners ahead of us were wearing "Italia" running gear, which got the following responses, in order:

"Italia! Italiaaaaaa!!"

"Italia!!! Forza Italia!!!"

"Go Italy."

And I'd almost bet that only the last of those 3 had Italian ancestry. (I speak as someone who, in cheering for past marathoners has called out, variously, "Viva Mexico!", "Brasil!", "Sverige!" and other places that a Nice Jewish Boy like me doesn't really know from.)

Brooklyn was great. The people were enthusiastic as you could ask for. I got to run up to Maureen and kiss her, which was incredibly fun. (She later admitted that it surprised the heck out of her: "Aaah! Why is he running at me?!?") Jean got to do the same with Jim. Introductions were made all around.

The *best* crowd support was in Fort Greene, on Lafayette Avenue. They were going NUTS! Jean asked, wonderingly, "where *are* we?" (My sardonic reaction, quickly suppressed, was, "we are in the New York City Marathon." She had a better one when we got to Queens.)

Bands were playing. People were screaming and jumping up and down. It was like a rock concert, and we were the stars.

Both Jean and I had our names on our shirts. This was 80% wonderful because people kept cheering for us specifically ("Yay Robert!" "Go Jean!") and 20% confusing, because we almost never knew if the person screaming our names actually knew us.

At one water stop I grabbed a cup of water from a volunteer, drank it down, and kept going. Another volunteer, at the end of the line called out, "Robert! Get some water!" I muttered something like, "already got some," and kept going. He yelled, "Come on, Robert, get some water! Robert! Robert!!! Come on, Robert! Roooooberrrrrrrrt!" like a soul in torment. I had a panicky moment thinking he was going to run after me and harangue me for the next 5 miles.

Jean got the best shout-out of the course, though. A guy hanging from a lamp post calling out, "Go Jean! Jean!!! I believe in you!"

Speaking of odd experiences, I think there were a couple of places where people had set up tables with bake sales. I'm pretty sure I saw a sign saying "$1" next to a plate of something cake-like.

Now, I have a lot of respect for the entrepreneurial spirit, and I understand that 3,900 hungry people were going to be passing by, but I'd like to point out that [A] those people are passing by at a pretty good clip, and don't want to stop; and [B] most of them aren't carrying money.

We continued on into Clinton Hill, and then into the Chasidic section of Williamsburg. Very religious Jews who, honestly, seemed to not pay much attention to what was going on. Enh, another crazy goyish thing. What can you do?

After that we made it further north into the Hipster section of Williamsburg, where a good number of people were cheering; while others couldn't figure out how to cheer in a slightly disdainful cooler-than-thou manner, and just gave up and stared quietly.

From there we turned into Greenpoint, which is one of my favorite sections of the city because it has stores that only have signs in Polish, which I can't read at all. It's that message of, "We know who our customers are, and you aren't one of them, so go somewhere else" that totally draws me in.

Up to here things were pretty smooth. Just your standard half-marathon: nothing to talk about, really. Up ahead we'd have to make more of an effort.


Queens – Hitting Our Stride in the Middle

The stretch of the marathon in Queens is pretty short, but it makes up for it by being (for the most part) deeply uninteresting.

Initially the crowd was pretty good, which was what we needed at the midpoint. After that it got a bit sparse in Long Island City.

I was expecting to see my sister shortly after the bridge, and mentioned that to Jean. She said that would be a good time to stretch. I said that, no no, my sister wouldn't expect us to stop, so it was perfectly fine. Jean explained that, no no, she'd like to stretch, regardless. Oh!

This is the advantage of running with a person who has taught yoga. My lower back had been hurting for the last 5 miles or so, but it hadn't even occurred to me to stop and stretch. So we kept an eye out for my sister. And ran. And looked. And ran.

After something like a mile I said, "Hmm. I just don't see her. Well, let's go a few more blocks."

Jean, to point out that we were only half-way through the marathon, said, in a dry tone that I hope to equal some day, "Yes... let's go a few more blocks."

Ha!

So we looked for a few more blocks, then pulled over and stretched a bunch, and my back felt a lot better afterwards.

Then my sister caught us as the Queensboro Bridge was getting noticeably closer. Elizabeth is now almost 7 months pregnant, but was a runner long before I was, and actually jogged along with us cheering "Yay Robert!" really loudly. This was a really big high point of the marathon.

The dreaded Queensboro Bridge was... well, not as dreadful as I'd feared. Again, I really have to hand it to TNT and my coaches: they had us do two runs where we ran over the Queensboro Bridge and back – as well as doing a lot of hill training – and this was definitely something I could handle.

A few things about the bridge:

• As coach Michael told us in advance, it was the quietest part of the course. All of a sudden there was nobody cheering, and the sound of thousands of foot falls.

• There were these strange blue placards with numbers on them ("1", "2", etc.) which I thought were maybe tenths of a mile, but somebody told me later were probably marked where the support teams of the elite runners had to set up tables to hand out specially formulated drinks to the front-runners.

• There was a guy down on the ground, with people clustered around him. I later read in the NYTimes that he survived, but that he had indeed had a heart attack.

Incidentally, the Queensboro Bridge is the bridge that Simon and Garfunkel sing about in "The 59th Street Bridge Song":

Slow down, you move too fast
You've got to make the morning last

Good advice for anybody running over it.

We wound down off the bridge, and onto 59th Street between 1st and 2nd, and into the neighborhood where I grew up: the Upper East Side.


Manhattan, Part 1 – Coming Home

This was actually surprisingly emotional for me. As we got to 66th street I found myself thinking, "Home!" and getting teary-eyed. Seeing my parents a few blocks later cheering and holding up a sign was even more wonderful.

Further up the road I finally started to notice that I was in a marathon. Either that, or the miles were just longer than the miles at the beginning. Honestly, I could swear that each of the early miles was about 3 blocks long; whereas it took – I'm just estimating – 197 blocks for the "18 Mile" marker to come up.

This was also when we came across our first TNT support: Tif, who's one of the training captains. He asked us how we were doing, and if we needed anything like salt. I actually felt like I could use some salt, and used a salt tablet that he gave me. Jean said she was fine. She, like most people, is able to drink Gatorade while running. I, unfortunately, find that it upsets my stomach while I'm exercising. No problem at other times, but it works against me when I need it most.

Somewhere above 100th street we pulled over to stretch again. The awkward thing about pulling over is that it gives people a really good chance to see your name, so as you pull over to stop, someone inevitably says something supportive like, "Go Robert! Don't stop! You can do it!"

We got to the Willis Avenue Bridge, which I and my siblings used to find incredibly amusing to drive over when we were kids, because it has a metal grate and would make our voices vibrate. Lots of giggling. During the marathon, they lay carpet over it, so you don't feel the grating too jarring underfoot, and presumably so that there's something soft to land on when you unintentionally slam into one of the runners who have suddenly, and with absolutely no warning, stopped to walk.

This wraps up mile 20, and brings us into the Bronx.


The Bronx – The Most Welcoming Borough

"Welcome to the Bronx."

"Welcome to the Bronx."

"Hey, you're in the Bronx now. Welcome"

"Welcome to the Bronx."

There's only about a mile of the route that's in the Bronx. And it seemed like every 15 feet had someone welcoming you to the Bronx. It was actually really nice. I felt like I was going to be taken into someone's living room and offered some food. I was looking forward to putting up my feet, and hoped they didn't mind if their ottoman got a little sweat on it.

The water stations seemed somehow more hospitable than in other boroughs.

Both my brother and sister live in the Bronx with their families, and everybody had come out to cheer. My little 4-year-old niece got so excited that she ran along with us for a bit, and was picked up by my sister, who then tripped. Oops. And yet my niece giggled throughout the entire thing. It was really cute.

I felt like I was flagging a bit at this point, but my siblings tell me that I looked completely fine, and that most of the people around me were sagging. Again: training really helps.

We crossed the Madison Avenue Bridge at mile 21. That meant 5.2 miles to go, which felt definitely do-able, if not easy. This was Manhattan, and the final stretch of the race.


Manhattan, Part 2 – It's All Uphill from Here

The interesting thing about the NYC marathon is that for the last several miles miles you feel as if you're heading uphill most of the time. And there's a simple explanation for that feeling: for most of the last several miles you actually *are* heading uphill most of the time.

This is the time when it's good to have friends who are runners. In my case, first Jinny and then Melka, both of whom I'd run with last year when training for a half-marathon, jumped in. They were both really kind and supportive. They asked if we needed them to run ahead and get water or gatorade. They complimented us. They told us there wasn't much left to go. And they kept us company. I felt a lot stronger from the moment that Jinny first jumped in.

Across from Marcus Garvey Park, which we had to circle around, there was a church with 3 nuns standing out ringing hand bells. Strangely, I felt like crossing myself. Yes, I'm Jewish, but I was really touched by the gesture of supporting us that way.

5th Avenue was pretty difficult. Uphill, and at a time when you really want to be going downhill. But we made it.

At about 110th street I found myself thinking, "Today, I am an athlete. No matter what I've been, Today I Am An Athlete." It was a surprising thing to think, and very powerful. It became my mantra for several blocks, and also brought tears to my eyes.

Coach Lisa ran with me for a bit before we entered the park at 90th street, and was nicely supportive, although I was too tired at that point to respond normally. She told me later that I responded to everything with "good to know". "You're almost at the park." "Good to know." "Only 2 miles left." "Good to know."

I'm actually surprised I was that coherent: I remember my replies being more like incoherent grunts.

24 miles down, 2.2 more to go.

There were a few guys ahead of us with their names on the backs of their shirts, and the words "111 corridas and 1 marathon." (A corrida is a bullfight.) I'm pretty sure they were unrelated to the two gents I saw a mile and a half later who were wearing, respectively, bull horns and a matador hat. Although I don't really know.

The last couple of miles were hard. The crowd support was great, but I was really tired. I actually asked Jean if we could walk through the water station at mile 25 because I needed to collect myself. Then we were off and running again, to finish out the race.

We exited the park at the southeast corner, and took a right turn onto 59th Street. The crowds were incredibly thick here. I think there was a lot of noise, but to be honest I was mostly just focussed on the goal of finishing. And trying to keep up with Jean, who was finding all the holes in the crowd of runners, while people kept stepping in front of me. Looking back on it, I think it's pretty impressive that we were pulling ahead of lots of people at that point, although at the time I was just irritated at having to circle around people and accelerate to catch up to Jean.

Three long blocks and we were at Columbus Circle, and turning right to enter Central park for the last leg of the marathon.

Which, this being the New York City marathon, was uphill.

But it didn't matter. Much. There were crowds, and cheering, and huge signs saying "500" (meters), "400", "300", (count with me) "200", "100" and then the big finish.

We had made it.


The End

26.2 miles. 5 boroughs. Dozens of bands, millions of spectators, incredible energy. And now we had crossed the finish line and joined the ranks of marathon finishers.

We stumbled forward, got mylar blankets, and collected goodie bags with food in them. Jean was able to eat. My stomach was in turmoil and I just wanted to get to my checked bag so I could get my phone and call Maureen.

We stopped off to get our official pictures taken. (I hope I don't look too dorky with my arms raised.) And then we stepped into the slowest moving line you can imagine. The crowd inched forward. Then stopped. Then inched forward again.

After an eternity (and a lot of grousing on my part), the line thinned out, and we found that our legs wouldn't carry us faster than that inching pace anyway.

I got my bag, called Maureen and my parents, and we made it out of the park. Jim found us first, and apologized to me for not kissing me like he did Jean. (The handshake was quite enough, really.) Maureen found us, and had chocolate milk for me, which is a great recovery drink.

Jean and Jim headed off to go to a spa. Maureen and I went to the bus to go to my parents' place. The race was over.


Post-Race Thoughts

What an amazing experience. I definitely recommend it, or any marathon with good crowd support, to anybody. It isn't easy to train for something like this, but it's worth it. And if you're in your late 30's, please don't tell yourself, "I've got to run a marathon *before* I turn 40." I intentionally waited until I turned 40. There are people who do this at all ages.

I have some advice for those who'd consider running a marathon, and for those who'd consider going and cheering (which is also fun, and also important):

For Those Considering Running:

* You can do it. I trained with people who'd never run more than a couple of miles, and they were able to build up to a marathon. It's a gradual process.

* Get some coaching. There are better and worse ways to do things. I learned a *lot* from my coaches about good running form, how to handle hills, and a host of other useful things. I'm really glad I signed up with Team in Training.

* Don't be discouraged if a run goes badly. I had 2 long runs that went horribly. I'm talking about having to stop waaaay before I wanted to, and having to walk to somewhere where I could stop. Everybody has off days. The next run usually goes much better.

* If you can, try to find a person or two who naturally runs at the same pace as you do. I met some really nice people who ran either noticeably faster or noticeably slower than I do. When you're out running for a couple of hours, that can make things really difficult.


For Those Considering Cheering:

* Even if you're going out to see one person in particular, please cheer everybody. They're all doing something really hard, and need your support.

* If someone has their name on their shirt, call it out! Or if they've got a country, it's probably the one they're from, so that's a good thing to call out too.

* Supportive cheers are great: "looking good!" "Way to go!" "You've got this!" Haranguing people is less good: "Go faster!" "Don't slow down!"

* If you don't like crowds, there are plenty of places in any marathon that don't have 'em, and where the runners will really appreciate your cheering. Right now, Long Island City in Queens is definitely like that for NYC.


Anyway, thanks for reading all this. I had a lot of fun running the race. I'll definitely go back to doing half-marathons, and might do another full one, but I'm not sure. Still, it was a great experience.