My local club had a bus going to the start leaving at 8:00 AM, a much more civilized time than the NYRRC buses that board at about 5:45 AM. So I arrived at 8:30 for a 10:00 line-up and a 10:35 start. At the staging area I hung out with several other women from my club. Beep Beep and I had posted back and forth a while last Spring about anticipation of whether we'd be accepted to NYC, and then about getting the acceptances. After some renewed Forum postings, we started e-mailing over the last month or so about plans for the weekend, race, etc. Unfortunately plans to meet just didn't work out.
Coming over the Verrazano Bridge, almost at the toll plaza, you can look out the window and see all the men lined up FACING US using the world's largest urinal. Very funny and of course lots of rowdy comments on the bus! Fort Wadsworth in Staten Island was very wet from Saturday's rain but they put down straw or hay everywhere which helped somewhat. I did the bags on my shoes. It started to rain prior to the line-up. Cruel trick after the final weather reports had assured this wouldn't happen. I put my garbage bag on. I started thinking that maybe this singlet was a bad idea, should have stayed with the second of my planned outfits. Oh well. We stayed under a very big tent which was very uncrowded. Someone said they thought it was the elite women's tent. But there were no signs saying so and no one looked like they were elite. Very short lines at the port-o-sans near the women's corrals. Only about 5 deep vs. the usual 25+ deep at all the other NYRRC events. And they restricted them to women as the men can use that enormous urinal (which does face away from everything when you are on the ground). Due to the rain, I wasn't going to leave the big tent until the last minute. So I kept my eye on my corral until it started to move up to the bridge. Tossed the sweatpants ran to my group and got to where they were marching us on the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. Listened to some opening remarks, Star Spangled Banner, etc, etc. Tossed the foot baggies, tossed the garbage bag, though I must say the little hood thing I had fashioned out of it allowing only the visor part to stick out was rather creative. The tossing procedure was announced as keep handing stuff to the left.
I am waiting for the thunderous roar of the canon going off. People are making nervous conversation. Poof. Was that the canon? That little sound? Are we moving. Yes, we are, that was it. We're already on the bridge, so where is the actual start to start my watch? There's no balloon arch or anything. We're going, I'm moving, so soon after the start. Impressive. I'm looking behind me. Oh, up on that part of the bridge itself is something that says start that I can only see looking behind me, so I've passed it. I'm doing it now, I'm in the marathon!
I'm going over the Verranzano and trying to remember to
hold back. It was a quick start, nothing like the long
lumbering crawl I expected. I'm starting to feel hot in
the sweatshirt. This is feeling hard, I can't get into the
groove. Mile 1. Now the bridge has crested, we're going
downhill. It still feels hard. Well, it always takes me a
few miles to feel good. It's humid. No more rain but
humid. And it's so foggy, the towers of the bridge aren't
even visible. Mile 2. Off the bridge. A few turns.
We're in Bay Ridge. Now we're on 4th Ave. Take off cap,
toss sweatshirt. Hey, I actually got it in the garbage
can. 3 points! By the way, that rain stopped right around
the start. Oh, man. That hamstring thing is happening. Oh
man, I know I overtrained in the end, but I tapered, I
really tapered. Why is this thing acting up. Relax.
People are passing me which is fine, but they are poking me
here and there and feet are touching my feet and I don't
like that. And from that point on it became a very, very
different experience than what I expected. It became a very
individual, solitary, from within experience. I was aware
of all the spectators cheering, the runners around me, the
bands playing here and there, but somehow I was unaffected
by them. It was like I had blinders on. It was sort of
surreal. I just knew that this had to come from within and
that I was going to do whatever I had to do, dig as deep as
I had to to do it, but that it was going to all come from
within. The crowds, the noise, the mobs, the weather, none
of it seemed to touch me from that point on--not the good,
the bad, it all became irrelevant. I think I just felt I
could not spare an ounce of energy on what was going on
around me. I really felt like I was alone and wanted and
needed to be. This is 180 degrees from what I expected. I
expected to be so into the crowds and energized by them,
and expected to be on an emotional rollercoaster of highs
and lows but it just wasn't. Everything was irrelevant. I
just moved forward. And my mind wasn't racing. It was
part of that surreal thing, sort of a suspension of time
and space. I was running. That was all that was happening.
Now we're in Sunset Park. Soon we'll be in Park Slope.
Okay, husband and kids will be on the right at 16th St.
Two blocks, one block. There they are with the
signs--high five to husband, son, daughter, friend, gone. Friend
alert on 11th St. Move again to outside--hi, high five,
over, move back to center. Friend alert on Carroll St.
Where is she? Not there. Oh well. Hamstring hurting. Oh
man, balls of feet feeling some friction. My feet never
move in my shoes. Somewhere around mile 9 I sat on the
curb and untied my tightly triple knotted wet shoelaces,
took them off smoothed my socks, put them back on and made
them tighter from the part near the toes all the way to
where they are laced. I think the wetness is what made
them feel too loose. Better to take time and do this now
then suffer with blisters later on. Never had a shoe
problem after that. Going again. Hamstring thing still
happening. Two people are shouting Ben Gay. One has a
jar, one has a tube. Stick my had in the jar and get some
and reach up under lycra shorts and rub it on the
hamstring. So much for don't try anything new. Eventually
the hamstring thing died down. Maybe it was the Ben Gay.
One foot hurts for a while, inside somewhere new. Stops.
Other foot gets a similar thing. Stops. Moving along
rain at 10 miles. Eventually stops after a
while. Rain again at 12 miles. Heavier now.
Halfway coming up. 13.1 split is 2:20. I'll take that.
All along I was just doing a pace that felt comfortable and
natural. Pulaski Bridge - Queens. Man, Long Island City
is not pretty, all industrial and nothing like the part of
Queens I grew up in. Making sharp turns to the ramp of the
Queensboro Bridge (aka 59th St Bridge). A High School Band
in something like a marching band uniform right at the
awkward short turn onto the bridge--somehow they touched
me--like these kids are here for me--a rare instant of
connection, I don't know why then or there. On the bridge,
lots of puddles, can't always avoid them. Uphill, uphill,
man--when does this thing crest? Never. Uphill, uphill.
Man, how long is this damn bridge already? Finally, going
downhill. Thank you. Bridge, bridge, finally 1st Ave.
Pouring! Ten miles to go and it is pouring. These drops
are hitting my shoulders and arms hard. Lots of people out
in the rain. I feel isolated from them. They all seem to
be looking for their particular person. Now it's feeling
hard. I'm in the 70's now. Maybe I'll give this crowd a
chance. I move to the outer left. Here and there they call
my name. Or the name of my club (I'm wearing a club singlet
with my name pinned on above). Some mispronounce my name
because of the odd spelling. Some get it right. But I do
appreciate them now. It is helping me. Thunder! Absolutely
soaking wet, raining like crazy, and then I pass--the
table where they are handing out wet sponges. Why? I
couldn't get any wetter. What is the point. And now there
are hundreds, maybe thousands of wet sponges that I am
trying to avoid stepping on. Above the East 90's few people
are out. Finally at the Bridge into the Bronx. I know
it's a short time there, but it seems longer than I
expected. 20 miles. Where's the wall? No wall. Out of
the Bronx. No wall. In Harlem. Where are those school kid
banners I read about? Nowhere. Probably the rain? Here's
a choir in beautiful blue and gold robes singing gospel.
Cool. Thanks. 22. No wall. But that hamstring thing has
been back awhile. Now my quads are getting a little
painful. But the pace is not changing. And I am passing
lots of people. I am not trying to and I am not speeding
up but I am passing lots of people. 110th Street. Aren't
we going in the park here. No. Enter at 102nd. Very uphill
entrance. Coach of running class supposed to be here on
the left. No show. Must be the rain. In the park. Quads
HURT. I've run this park both directions, all distances.
But man it never felt so uphill. All uphill, so steep, how
can this be? Family will be by boathouse. 90's, 80's,
legs hurt but pace is consistent. 70's, Boathouse should
be coming up. Here they are--husband and kids with signs,
high five, high five, high five. Where's mother in law?
She's calling me. She's on the course. What's she doing,
running with me? She was keeping dry under a tree on the
other side and didn't want me to not see her. Now she goes
back off. Quads hurt and now calves too. Pain. Walk a
little, run again. 25 pain. Out of the park. Cruel. If I
could stay on the path in the park Very hard on 59th St.
Walk a little. Tell myself I've given birth twice, so I
can do this. It's only pain. Finally Columbus Circle.
Back in the park. Mile 26. Calves screaming, quads
screaming. Uphill to the finish. Cruel joke. There's the
finish line. Go, go. 4:42:52. Not bad! Guy jumps ahead
of me in the chute. Will change the order. So what?
Official time next day in NY Times: 4:42:55.