The New York Marathon - My Memory

It was about 3:30 AM on Sunday, November 4, 2007 when I finally got out of the hotel bed. The night had been filled with very short ‘naps’ and a great deal of tossing and turning. Since this was to be my 4th marathon, I was no stranger to the excitement that can rob one of sleep the night before the big event.

Still, this one was to be different. Only one week prior I had completed the Marine Corps Marathon. By now I understand what it feels like to train, mentally and physically, for the rigors of running 26.2 miles – and what the actual event feels like – but it is different running another event only 7 short days after the previous. “Can my body take the stress? Do I really want to do this? I’ve told so many people – will I be ashamed if I back out? WHAT WAS I THINKING?”

It was never my intent to do 2 marathons in 8 days. The Marine Corps Marathon and the New York Marathon are incredibly popular events, and because of this, they turn many applicants away. When I signed up for both I did so in hopes that the ‘luck of the draw’ would gain a spot for me in one of the two events. Never did I imagine that both events would grant entry! So I thought, “These are the 2 premier events still on my ‘to-do’ list of marathons! Why not train ONE time instead of two, run easy, and complete them both?” So that’s what I decided to do.

I would be remiss to not mention the amazing Marine Corps Marathon, “The People’s Marathon.” Aptly titled, as there is no prize purse and the runners are there for the fun and the experience. I had a great time, saw the DC area totally on foot, didn’t hurt myself, and came away with a renewed confidence that I could do 2 marathons in 8 days.

At 5:30 AM on Sunday the 4th I left the hotel room, boarded the elevator and headed for the lobby where I met Diego (from Brazil), Edgar (from Holland but currently living in London), and PJ (a very nice lady from Chicago) – my 3 car mates for the ride to Staten Island. We had all decided to go VERY early to avoid the transportation merry-go-round that would be public transportation to the start – shuttle to the airport, bus to Penn Station, subway to Bowling Green, Staten Island Ferry, then a bus from the ferry to Ft. Wadsworth, the starting point of the race. This was a great decision from a standpoint of comfort for the ride! However, it gave us the opportunity to sit outside and enjoy a brisk November New York morning for 4 hours!

We walked to the corrals and heard a voice from a darkened porch saying, “Welcome to Staten Island!” Nice way to start the experience... I left my newfound friends at the entrance to the runner’s corrals and made my way to the food stand to get a bagel, then on to the Gatorade stand. I also picked up a couple of Powerbars – hey, free food with a 26 mile run in front of you is a beautiful thing!! Our corral was an open field between an interdenominational church and the Coast Guard facility. Placing my plastic bag of various items under me, I hunkered down in the field and slowly ate my bagel and drank my Gatorade. After a few minutes a very nice young lady approached me and offered a large trash bag to me so I would have something to sit on. I graciously accepted and over -thanked her for her kindness. Still, this field appeared to have had visitors of the 4 legged varieties who relieved themselves. Any protection between myself and the cold ground and the aforementioned ‘leavings’ was GREATLY appreciated!!

It was COLD. There was no escape. I ‘hunkered’ – it helped for a while. Hands in pockets – hands under legs – legs tucked under – legs stretched out - anything to double up my body heat and preserve it. I was wearing my nifty neato polar fleece warm up, but the wind had ideas of penetrating that thin fabric, and the sun had not yet made an appearance. A couple of times I visited the portable toilets just to have 4 walls around me!! Finally, about an hour later but what seemed like forever, the sun started rising. There is a huge tree that stands over the field we were in, but the sun’s rays somehow managed to peek through to a small degree. It was comical watching the accumulating runners scramble to find the rare spots of sunlight, as if the light would magically bring them the warmth they all craved. In spite of a nagging desire to keep off my feet, I finally stood up and moved around looking for the elusive sunlight. Of course, time was our friend, and finally the sun came up over the tree and brought blessed warmth to the throngs of runners, volunteers and spectators. I found a spot where I could sit on a curb, lean back on a fence, soak in the sun and before I knew it I had slipped into a short nap.

Almost as if in a dream I could hear voices with a decidedly British accent. I kept my eyes closed and smiled inside enjoying their conversation – two English ladies. After around 5 minutes I looked their way and said, “Pardon me, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help hearing and enjoying your accent! Where are you from?” They told me that they were from London and they had been in the states for 4 days – had come over just for the NY Marathon. They told me that they had run in the London Marathon, but this was their first trip to the US and, of course, their first New York Marathon. I suspect that they were not the only citizens of countries other than the US who were in NY for their first NY Marathon – half of all the runners in the marathon are from countries other than the US. Walking by you could see so many people – proud of their home countries, yet so very happy to be in NY for this event. At one point a man approached me and said, “Parle vous francais?” I smiled and said (more loudly than necessary so maybe he could understand me) NO! He pointed to my water bottle and said something that didn’t, even remotely, mean anything to me, but I knew he was asking where I got the water bottle. Hmm. There were water stations EVERYWHERE. Oh well – he was French, after all! I pointed to one of the water stations and he nodded, smiled happily and wandered off to claim his prize.

Time passed. I thought it would never, ever get to be even close to the start time of 10:10 AM, but it was now 9:00 AM. I had warmed up ever so slightly so I thought it would be a good time to take my checked bag to the baggage stations. Before I went I decided to take a Powerbar and ‘fuel up’. Yum – a nut flavored Powerbar and a bottle of water. I took tiny bites and actually enjoyed my treat. I read the ingredients and the nutrient table – “250 calories, 3.5 grams of fat, 44 grams of carbohydrates” – just what a runner needs before taking off for 5 hours or more. I finished up my treat, took off my polar fleece pants, bagged them up then headed for the UPS Trucks. Yep. UPS Trucks. 71 of them, to be exact, and I needed to go to truck 41. Problem was, by now there were thousands of other runners who also wanted to drop off their baggage. The term “sea of humanity” was certainly appropriate – all of us seeking the correct ‘current’ of moving people to get us to our correct truck. This exercise took 25 minutes – oh my goodness! It’s time to go to the start area!

But first, a ‘potty break.’ Good idea – bad timing. I think everyone else had the same idea. Still, I picked the shortest (although probably the slowest) line and waited my turn to take care of business. 15 minutes in line, 1 quick minute to take care of buiness and I emerged, literally ‘relieved’ and headed to the start line. 25 minutes until race start!!

Orange Corrals. Blue Corrals. Green Corrals. And people everywhere. I took my place in the Orange Corral for bib numbers 43000 – 43999 and joined the 5 hour and 30 minute pace group. Not exactly your ‘elite runners’ – just normal folks out to enjoy a quarter day run through the boroughs of New York. I wished for a friend, yet reminded myself that all 39,000 runners were, in a way, my friends.

Time passed. 9:50. 9:55. The wheel chair race had started and the elite runners were on their way. 10:00. the crowd is getting restless – the PA system blares, “Only 10 minutes until start!!” 10:05 – “should I go potty one more time?” 10:08 – it’s almost here – “have I lost my mind?” Then, 10:10 AM, Sunday, November 4, 2007, and the New York Marathon has officially begun. We’re off! Sort of......

A shuffle – we turn a corner – shuffle some more – people strip off clothing and throw it to the side of the road. I smile a warm smile as I watch volunteers (including young children) pick up the clothing, sort it and put it in piles – piles that will bring clothing and warmth to many in need. I’m thankful for the generosity of the human spirit and pleased that runners are among the more generous of people. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle – a little faster now. 50 feet away is another corner to turn – a Marine helicopter flies over – a NY news ‘copter hovers overhead and the crowd cheers and waves to the helicopter as if all the people they know will see this and recognize them.

I check my heart monitor watch and see that my pulse is high – of course I am excited. Now the shuffle is giving way to a slow trot, which develops into a bit faster trot – we turn another corner and approach 2 orange colored arches that I assume are the start line. We cross through and make a hard turn to the left and we are finally on the Verrazano Bridge – the Marathon has begun!

Not so fast – actually the start line is still 50 feet away. I restart my watch and settle into a trot to approach the start. The huge groups have divided into two lines on either side of the bridge. The PA is SCREAMING at us, music is blaring, helicopters are everywhere, and FINALLY I cross the start line and am officially running in the 32nd New York Marathon!

Many people encourage a person to the point of beginning a marathon. In my case, no question, Karen, Alan and Alayna were instrumental in getting me prepared and to the starting line. How many Saturdays did I go off and leave them behind while I ran for 2-4 hours? How many mornings did I disturb them getting up at 4:00AM to take a run. My son saying, “how you doin’, Dad?” My daughter saying, “I’m proud of you, Daddy!” My wife confidently supporting me throughout the entire ordeal(s) – helping me through my doubts. I’ll never forget when I was running in the Disney Marathon in January of 2007 (this same year) – at mile 13 I knew I was finished. It was approaching 80 degrees, and Florida humid. Every step was labored, and I was more focused on the 13 miles I had in front of me than the 13 I had behind me. I called Karen and said, “I think I’m not going to make it. I think I’ll quit.” She wouldn’t let me and she encouraged me on. The family scrambled around making sure to see me and encourage me in as many places as possible, and they could not possibly know of the impact of that support. You see, getting through that seemingly impossible run convinced me that I could get through anything. Left alone, I would have quit. They wouldn’t let me, because they believed in me and they love me.

There were others who offered support. Steve Glidden, an AE and friend with Canon out West called to encourage on a regular basis. Steve sent a Marine t-shirt to help me through my training. He called me, along with Ron Olson and Don Hartenstine and perhaps others 2 days before the Marine Corps Marathon to cheer me on. My entire staff offered support – Aubrey, Shelly and Donna sent an e-card. Dave Patrick, track star extraordinaire for Villanova and one time 1 mile indoor record holder, gave me constant encouragement and a ‘special’ training hat. There are others that I have most likely missed, and I really hate to miss anyone, but all of the encouragement from those named and unnamed was incredibly important to me!

The Verrazano Bridge is almost 2 miles long, imagine a constant stream of people covering the entire width and length of the bridge jumping, shouting, happy to be on this excursion of 26.2 miles. Look to your left, right and up and you see helicopters providing images for the world to see. Look ahead and catch your breath as you see the skyline of the boroughs of New York, with Manhattan looking lonely without the twin towers looking over everything – now there is only an open spot. About half way over the bridge you cross the one mile marker – feeling strong – big hill behind you! Bottom of the hill, approximately mile 2 you leave the bridge and enter Brooklyn. First thing I heard was a BIG voice with a decidedly Brooklyn accent proudly yelling, “Welcome to Brooklyn!” Borough #1 on the long trek.

Brooklyn runs for approximately 6 miles – waves and waves of kids, adults, policemen, firemen, everyman – waving and yelling and smiling – doing their best to share their energy to help move you along. At this point, the runners are still full of adrenaline and excitement, and they jump, dance and wave their hands in unison with the myriad bands and the throngs of cheerleaders. During this stretch we are running parallel to the ‘blue’ and ‘green’ runners – everyone started in a different area, but we run parallel to each other on each side of the streets.

About 5 miles into the run all the water and Gatorade ‘came to call.’ When you are accommodating 39,000 runners there simply can’t be enough portable toilets, and when you do come across one, invariably there is a long line. Who can afford to give up 5 minutes waiting?

But, what’s that? In Brooklyn, NY, a Kentucky Fried Chicken? Say it isn’t so!! Expecting to see lines of runners flowing to and from the entrance to this, in my mind, oddly placed KFC, I cross the street and run to the door. “Mmmm – wouldn’t a piece of chicken or a big bowl of hot mashed potatoes be good right now!” Snap out of it – take care of business. The place is totally empty except for a couple of employees – one grunts at me, I smile and say “hello” and proceed to the one and only ‘potty.’ Alas, there is a young lady waiting. We each smile and acknowledge each other. The wait seems to take forever until, you guessed it, a runner emerges. The young lady takes her turn quickly, and then I take mine – then back out to the streets of Brooklyn. I only lost 5 minutes.

Run 6 minutes, walk 1. Run 6 minutes, walk 1. “What’s that sound over there in the middle of the road?” It’s the subway, running somewhere in the bowels of New York – the sound and the wheeze of the passing cars coming up through vents in the median.

Band after band. You want rock? There’s ROCK! You want jazz – got it, too. Drum corps, marching bands, string ensembles – and, hallelujah, a joyous choir singing their hearts out for the Lord - to the runners outside their BAPTIST church.

Smiling faces – clapping spectators – a spectacle to see! Mile 7, 8 – what’s this – mile 9 my legs begin to feel tired and heavy. “Oh, no”, I think, and I wonder if the physical strain of 2 marathons in 8 days has begun to take a toll on my almost 50 year old body. At this point the mind can play tricks, telling you what you can’t do – yet I kept remembering all the people who challenged me, but most of all I kept remembering my wonderful Karen, Alan and Alayna, and how I knew they were counting on me, and all the confidence they had in me. “I can’t quit!!!” But now I’m hot – the warm up top I’ve been wearing for 9 miles is starting to soak with sweat as my ‘tech’ t-shirt wicks the perspiration away into it. The bib is pinned snugly with 4 safety pins in my top – there is no way I can remove the pins, take off the top and pin the bib back to my t-shirt while running. All I can do is stop, fearing what that might do to my already tired legs. I stop, make the bib switch, briefly consider dropping the top on the side of the road but instead decide to tie it around my waist. My bib is slanted – I don’t care. I have 2 waist packs and the ‘arms’ of my warm up top around my waist – not exactly ‘sleek’ but I don’t care.

I start running again about 4 minutes after I stopped to shed my top, and my legs are fresh again! By now, the 5:30 pace group has caught up with me and I decide to run with them a while. They seem to be on a ‘run 5 minutes then walk 2.’ I stay with them about a mile but at around mile 11 it gets really crowded. We are nearing the end of Brooklyn and the crowds have swelled so much that they are narrowing the already narrow streets of the village we are running through. It becomes too much to stay with the group so I pull away and resume my ‘run 6 walk 1’ routine. Mile 12 – feeling good – ALMOST half way. Mile 13 – a hill begins as I approach a tributary coming off the East river. All the bouncing, swaying and dancing of the runners has diminished and many runners slow to walk up the slight hill. Oddly enough, my legs feel very strong and I keep running, feeling a surge in my energy and strength. And yes, I have taken Gatorade and any other slight snack any of the wonderful volunteers have offered me along the way.

I cross the bridge, head down the hill, take a hard left on 21st Street and a man yells, “Welcome to Queens!” I approach a large video screen at the corner of Vernon Blvd. and Jackson Avenue – runners and raising their hands and enjoying the image of themselves and all the other runners going by. The streets are curvy through this area of Queens, and I take the time to ‘high five’ smiling children who stand in the cool streets encouraging these throngs of runners. A smiling lady and her two children stand at the side of the road offering slices of orange – she’s doing this on her own with no NYC Marathon support structure around her. “Should I take it? Is it safe?” Shame on me!!! I graciously accepted a big chunk of orange from her, thanked her and smiled at her, then enjoyed the nectar of the orange and chewed on its pulp and somehow felt rejuvenated from it.

Hard left at mile 15 – long line of porta-potties. I decide that I should stop again and take my place in line. Gross as it seems, I take out a pack of peanut butter crackers to eat while I wait, this time hoping the line takes a while so I have time enough to finish all 6 crackers. Wouldn’t you know it – it moves quickly. I’m up to being next in line, and directly in front of me is an obviously inebriated man speaking Spanish to me. Somehow we understand each other, a word here and there, then my spot opens and I drop 3 remaining crackers, ‘do my business’ and start up yet another hill on my way to the Queensboro Bridge. This hill is much steeper but I manage to continue to pull the hill. Along the way people are stopped on the side of the road – this is a major covered bridge and there are even policemen on horseback helping people out. Top the hill, run down the shoulder, take a short walk, then cross mile 16 as I come off the bridge. ‘Only’ 10 miles to go!! Take a right.....

We’re in Manhattan. Oh, my, what a party!! How can you not feel the energy surging from the people urging you on. “Go! You are almost there! You can do it.” How many times have I answered under my breath, “YOU come and do it!” But these folks are genuine encouragers, and shame on me for having a moment of mild malice.

We start on Lexington and run for what seems forever through the long street of Manhattan. By my count we run for 68 city blocks – almost 4 miles – before we ever even turn. By now my effort is labored – I KNOW I can do it, but I have settled down into the very real pain caused by the constant pounding of my feet against pavement. I know I have 2 toes that will give up their toenails – the ball of my left foot is protesting in pain, but I don’t care. The clouds have covered the sky and it is below 50 degrees, but I’m comfortable and settled into my workmanlike effort. “Who cares how long it takes!! I’m going to finish 2 marathons in 8 days!!!”





Oooh – another bridge. It’s the Willis Avenue Bridge – it’s a very short one that takes me to mile 20! Mile 20 has always been somewhat of a personal victory to me in all my marathons. I think, “Only a 10k to go!” The spectators all cheer and tell you that “you are almost there?” Yeah, right. 6 miles is still a nice, substantial run, but having 20 behind me is a major victory. I think, “From this point on, the countdown has begun.....21, 22, 23, etc.” It becomes very real. I allow my mind to grasp the fact that we are really going to do this.

But I’m slowing down for sure. I’ve managed splits in the ‘12s’ for virtually the entire run, with the exception of my stops. Now, mile 18 is 12:32 – mile 19 is 13:16 – mile 20 is 13:40. I’ve been through this before – I’m not an ‘elite runner’ – although my pride would love a speedy time to brag about, truth be known, I just want to finish. My pride will be soothed completely by being able to brag about finishing 2 marathons in 8 days! And my 2 favorites, at that!

Left turn – one block. Not many spectators – we’re ‘out there’ right now in the Bronx – in the final ‘outland’ before we start into Harlem. Right turn, 1 block. Left turn and we run a slight curve to the right then approach the same river, only this time it is the Madison Avenue Bridge. Right smack dab in the middle of the bridge we hit mile 21. Split time: 13:53. Whoa.

Left turn onto 5th Avenue – the crowds are starting to increase in size – we are in the home stretch! 14 blocks ‘til we hit a park, The “Marcus Garvey Memorial Park”, and mile 22 – and a split time of 15:14. Now begins a slight incline that feels like a major hill, but I decide that it’s time to tough it out – no more marathons to run, let’s leave nothing ‘out here!’ 14 more blocks and we are now running right outside Central Park!! 7 blocks more, mile 23 – split time 14:51. People are yelling and screaming and since I know that I am in the final 20% of the runners I am amazed at the number of people still cheering us in. 16 more blocks, right turn – WE’RE IN CENTRAL PARK!!

I remember back in November of 2004 when I went to New York for a Dealer Advisory Council meeting. It was a few days before I was to run the Chickamauga Battlefield marathon, but a few days after the 2004 NY Marathon. I was staying in a Ritz-Carlton Hotel right next to Central Park. The traffic was heavy so my driver decided to take some back roads into the city and came into the area of the hotel through Central Park. I remember seeing the remnants of the marathon – the spectator stands, the portable toilets, all the ‘stuff’ required to support the runners and spectators of a marathon. It was at that time that I said, “SOMEDAY I WILL run the New York Marathon.” Now it is 2007 and God has given me the chance. As I run into the park the memory makes me smile and I give thanks.

Almost as soon as I got in the park I hit mile 24 – split time 14:55. Mile 24 – geez. I remember thinking, “Man, I’m in the park and I’ve still got 2 miles to go??” Oiy! But now it is a ‘run in the park.’ EVERYONE who has made it this far will surely finish. The sights and sounds are intoxicating – as we roll through the twists and turns of the park I decide to relax and enjoy the sights – people everywhere, and the ones who have already finished, proudly wearing their medals, cheering us on as if we are the pack leaders and elite runners. The running community is unique.

Mile 25 is ahead. Wow – it’s really getting close – and the split time was 14:36! Yes, it’s slow, but I actually sped up a bit! What’s that ahead? Another mile marker? No, it’s the marker for mile 25.2. How cool! Now I know I have exactly 1 mile to go. That 2/10ths took 2:42 or the equivalent of a 13:30 pace. Ooooh – I’ve gotten a bit quicker!

Hard left, hard right, hard left and now we have only ½ mile to go!! Somewhere from the deep, as if Jesus Himself reached down and lifted some of the weight off my legs, I go into my last half mile ‘kick.’ Probably around a 9 minute mile pace, but it felt like I was running at a 5 minute pace. 800 meters – my heart is pounding at a 165 rate. Keep it up – you’re so close! 400 meters and a hard right and I can see the finish area!! Hold the pace – passing people right and left – camaraderie replaced by competition! 400 yards – 200 yards – all I can see is the huge orange finish line – 100 yards – give it all you’ve got! A final kick – heart racing at a rate of 172 – and I cross the finish line of the 2007 New York Marathon! The clock reads 5:54:56 – my clock reads 5:43:45. My final split? 12:20.

I run through the finish and come to a stop just in time to receive my finisher’s medal. A smiling volunteer drapes it over my head and says, with a smile, “Congratulations!” as if I am the winner. Immediately I step into the photo area and get my finisher photo taken and I know my smile is a big one! From there I go where a metallic blanket is placed over my shoulders and taped in place. Someone hands me a bag filled with goodies – a water bottle, PowerAde, a bagel, and other items.

I laugh as I look at the sea of finishers, all draped in their blankets. It is comical to see what looks like an army of futuristic soldiers, all tired but full of excitement and enjoying the curious warmth brought on by this thin, light metallic wonder. I step to the right and someone removes my timing chip.

Now I want to retrieve my bag that I left with the truck at the beginning, but it looks difficult. I call Karen to tell her that “I’m in” and she excitedly congratulates me and tells me that they’ll meet me just outside the park. I pass truck #1 and feel angst over the fact that my truck is #41! I hear people complaining about the crowds and the slow movement – I think, “Get over it!” The NY Marathon is extremely well run. Looking to my right, I watch as a runner collapses at truck #1 where she has gone to retrieve her belongings. “Medic!” is the shout – one makes his way through the crowd.

One by one I pass the trucks – at around truck 30 I see another runner collapse. Finally I make it to truck 41, get my ‘stuff’ and turn around to go to the park exit. At the end of the path I feel a tremendous sense of joy when I see my beautiful family waiting on me –again – to congratulate me – again – to take care of me – again – to tell me that they are proud of me – again. My one constant in this life – my family – always there, always supporting me. Thank the Lord that He gave them to me!!

We walk to the corner in hopes of hailing a cab. Fat chance – all the cabs have fares already inside. We try and try, but no luck. Then a plain mini-van pulls up and rolls down the window. The driver flashes his license and offers to give us a ride for a seriously inflated price. No price is too high, and we accept the ride and begin our trek back to New Jersey.

What is it that causes a person to voluntarily run a marathon? To pay the entry fee and commit to the hours and hours of training? To set aside an entire weekend (or more) – to even take a day of vacation – to pay for a hotel, to pay for meals, and finally, to put your body to a level of punishment that could be used as torture – voluntarily.

I don’t know the answer – all I can come up with is “So I can know and say I did it.” To know that I have done something that 99.9% of the population will never do – most will never even think about it. To train the human body to do more than we think it should be able to – to join an elite group of people and breathe rarified air.

Is it worth it? Darn right it is.

Will I do it again?

= )