"Welcome to The Bronx"
Shouts a bombastic gentleman on the Willis Avenue Bridge as we enter his home borough. I wish I could match his energy but all I can muster is a meek smile and a muffled "thanks." I have nothing but respect for The Bronx. My cousin Anna used to live there. Fellow Oklahoman Mickey Mantle was a Bronx Bomber. Jennifer Lopez. But today it's the 5th borough we've entered on foot and I'm just not feeling it. The vibe is great - live music, partying, cheering. All things I would be loving if it weren't mile 20.
Mile 20. Entering uncharted territory. The farthest I've run in my life is 20 miles - 3 weeks ago during a training run. Every step from here sets a new personal record. Every step from here gets me closer to the finish line. Every step from here aches.
My GPS watch doesn't seem to be doing much better - around mile 16 it started going haywire - so I'm not sure how I'm doing on my pace. As I cross mile 20 I look at the elapsed time and I'm sitting at 2:56:27. My brain is still functioning enough to determine that 10 minute miles from here on out will get me in under 4 hours: 6 miles, 10 minutes/mile, 1 hour.. We won't think about the 0.2 right now.
10 minute miles. I can do 10 minute miles.
My feet are killing me. My lower back is tightening up. I still have the hill into Central Park.
I can do 10 minute miles.
"Well That Sounds Really Cool...
but I'll never run a marathon."
-Me, sometime in late 2014 after my good friend Jaclyn ran the NYC marathon
I've always loved the Big Apple & was really intrigued by the idea of seeing the city as a runner on marathon day. Jaclyn raved about the experience, but as someone who hadn't run any significant distance since high school football, it seemed an insurmountable task. Nonetheless, the idea continued to rattle around in the back of my brain.
Running through all 5 boroughs...Rambling down First Avenue completely devoid of traffic...The entire city partying and cheering you on...The views...The views!!
The plan started to coalesce this summer when I was conned into entering a triathlon in Austin over Memorial Day weekend. Some friends in Houston brought it up and it seemed like a reasonable feat - 750m swim x 12.5 mile bike x 3.1 mile run. They brought it up but never signed up so I was left to run it alone. The course through downtown Austin gave me a feel for the energy a city brings to a big race. After that weekend I started contemplating running an Olympic triathlon - double the distance - 1500m swim x 25 mile bike x 6.2 mile run.
As luck would have it, Buffalo was hosting an Olympic tri in July. Perfect. Based on my time in Austin I was hoping to finish somewhere between 3-3.5 hours. When it was all said & done I crossed the finish line at 2:53 and was brimming with confidence.
As you do when you have the possibility of running the NYC marathon bouncing around in your head, you look up the requirements for entry. You could qualify, but that would require running previous marathons and running them fast. Or you could raise money for charity. That sounded more sensible, but 26.2 miles was still a really long way to run.
I pulled the trigger while I was still in Buffalo, after receiving the terrible news that my cousin Michelle, who lives just outside NYC, had been diagnosed with breast cancer. This while staying with my Auntie Ann, who was diagnosed with the same affliction a few months prior. I decided right there that I would run to raise money for breast cancer research and to support my aunt & cousin who are stronger than I could ever imagine.
I signed up with Fred's Team, a charity that was founded in 1995 in honor of NYC Marathon co-founder and initial chairman Fred Lebow. During his 20 years as New York Road Runners president, Fred helped create marathons in Chicago, Los Angeles, Beijing, and London. Diagnosed with brain cancer in early 1990, he designated Memorial Sloan Kettering (MSK) as the NYC Marathon's first official charity. On October 9, 1994 Fred lost his battle with cancer, though his legacy and outsized contributions to the sport of running and cancer research live on.
In 2021 Fred's Team has raised \$7,195,425, 100% of which goes to research at the MSK Cancer Center. If you're reading this you probably contributed to that total. I sincerely thank you for that and I'm sure the wonderful people at MSK appreciate every penny.
"In running, it doesn't matter whether you come in first, in the middle of the pack, or last. You can say 'I have finished.' There is a lot of satisfaction in that"
-Fred Lebow
Let's Run
A cannon blast denotes the start of the race and it's go time. The first mile is all uphill, over the steep incline of the Verazzano Narrows bridge. This is the biggest climb of the day and thankfully it's right at the start while we're still fresh. I'm feeling good and the entire length of the 2 mile bridge I ogle the skyline of New York off to our left. Stunning views on a crisp, clear fall day.
The pace for a 4 hour marathon is just under 9:15/mile. During my training sessions I have been able to maintain that or better for most of my long runs. I haven't said it out loud but I think I can run it in 4. I figure if I do that I won't have any excuse to run another one. My strategy is to start with a lively but maintainable pace and bank some 8:30 miles that will give me a little slack on the back half.
After traversing the bridge, we spill out into the Bay Ridge neighborhood of southern Brooklyn through sporadic crowds and folks cheering from overpasses. At mile 4 we reach 4th Avenue, a 6-lane divided thoroughfare, where we first encounter the real party. Revelers line the streets, cheering, boozing, and holding up signs. I gain some power boosts by bopping signs with Mario mushrooms and laugh at folks with signs that say "don't forget, you PAID to do this!" and "only 20 more miles to go!"
This stretch is straight, flat, and I am feeling fantastic. My legs are strong and the miles are going down easy. We cross under the 9th street bridge and I see a building up ahead that looks just like Buffalo City Hall. Turns out it's the Williamsburg Savings Bank Tower and as we veer left past it I think to myself, "hmm that looks more like modernized Byzantine-Romanesque architecture, compared to the Art Deco style of Buffalo City Hall."
Actually I was thinking how cool it is to be running through one of the busiest intersections in Brooklyn, with the skyscrapers of downtown straight ahead and the Barclays Center a few blocks behind us.
I cross the 15k marker.
9.3 miles. 1:19:57. 8:35/mile pace.
Looking good.
Road Trip
My journey to NYC was a multi-stop road trip, staying with cousins, aunts & uncles, and friends.
Williamsville, IL - Fredonia, NY - Buffalo, NY - Victor, NY - Scranton, PA
I stayed a night in each location, leaving a trail of lightly soiled sheets in my wake. I should have roped in Tide as a sponsor.
I left Tulsa the Sunday before the big race and arrived in NYC on Friday. Once in the city, I made my way to the Javits Center on the West side of Manhattan to pick up my race packet. I scheduled my packet pickup for 4 PM, which seemed like a good idea at the time because I could grab lunch in Scranton before heading to the city. However in hindsight it was a horrendous decision as I hit NYC rush hour traffic.
Why anybody has a car in this city is beyond me. I just don't get it. The 9 miles to my cousin Michael's apartment in Crown Heights, Brooklyn took me an hour & 45 minutes. It's no exaggeration that I could have run that faster. It would have been a pretty relaxed pace too.
When I finally pulled down Michael's street I found a parking space right out front. He lives in the top floor of a rowhouse on a quiet street across from a recreation center. He was out of town at his sister's baby shower so I picked up the key he left with his downstairs neighbor who also happens to be one of his best friends in NYC. How 'bout that lil deal.
The apartment is quite large by NYC standards, with plentiful natural light to showcase Michael's vibrant paint selections and decor that only an art school graduate could pull off. I get situated and read for a bit before I cozy up and hit the sack.
Cruisin NYC
10 miles in we skirt the southern edge of downtown Brooklyn and turn north to Williamsburg. This might be my favorite stretch of the race, I'm still feeling strong and we're running through tree lined streets with a pub on every corner. People are jazzed to be out day drinking on a lovely fall day. The vibe pushes me on. Around mile 11 I see my buddy Bryce, who I grew up with in Tulsa. He and his girlfriend Camilla are holding an amazing homemade sign and I stop to take a quick picture. I'm still in good spirits but my dogs are starting to bark just a bit.
A few more miles through Greenpoint and we hit the Pulaski Bridge separating Brooklyn from Queens. It isn't very high or steep but it's a slog. In any case the views of Manhattan from the bridge are spectacular, so at least I have that goin' for me. We cross the halfway marker on the bridge.
13.1 miles. 1:52:43. 4 hours is within reach.
Logistics
The majority of my energy the day before the race was spent thinking about logistics. I wasn't worried about the actual run, I did my training and felt good about it. The logistics, on the other hand, were occupying an outsized portion of my mental capacity.
The challenge was twofold. First, it's not an "out & back" marathon, meaning the finish line's relationship to the start line is elsewhere. Second, this year we won't have a start line bag check - typically you can bring a bag of stuff to the start & they'll transport it to the finish for you. The combination of these two situations meant anything I took to the start I'd have to ditch and anything I'd want at the finish I'd have to drop off the day before. Sheesh.
The MVP of my logistical planning endeavor was my cousin Laura. She made the trip from Buffalo to ostensibly support her favorite cousin but the opportunity to day drink with all of New York City may have played a small part. One of her best friends, Sara, was hosting a marathon party just a few blocks from Central Park and the finish line. Sara graciously offered her apartment for post-race refreshments and showering. I had never met Sara. Her generosity was proffered strictly on the merits of my cousin. Laura has a reputational credit line that cannot be declined. She's fantastic.
So while the logistics were a challenge, I had some help. The only thing that kept me sane was a maniacal devotion to list-making. I had 5 active lists & when something would pop into my head I'd add it to the appropriate tally.
- To-do before race day
- To-do race day
- Pre-race bag
- Post-race bag
- Apartment bag
Doldrums
Halfway through the race the work really starts. I've felt pretty good up till now but I can tell the second half is going to be a grind. I'm not in any acute pain, it's more of a general malaise. A couple more miles and we reach the Queensboro Bridge. This is the one I was dreading. 15 miles behind me and a 120' climb ahead. Just a nice, easy run to the top of a 12 story building. It's not as tall or steep as the Verrazano, however the pep in my step has plummeted considerably.
I put my head down and trust the process, one foot after the other, don't try to do too much. A half mile of climbing and I reach the precipice, just another half mile of downhill into Manhattan. As we reach the bottom of the bridge there is a hairpin left and I take the outside track and holler "THREE WIIIIDE" as I make the turn. Nobody else gets the Nascar joke but I really crack myself up. It's the little things when you've been running for 16 miles.
We make a left turn onto 1st Avenue in Manhattan and my goodness what a party. Both sides of the street are completely lined with people who have seemingly stuck with the maxim "you can't drink all day unless you start in the morning." The feeling is electric, running down a wide open avenue with thousands of proud New Yorkers screaming their lungs out. Whatever malaise I've built up is melting away.
As we get through the 70s, 80s, and into the 90s & 100s in East Harlem the malaise returns. The crowd is thinner and the miles aren't going down as easy as they did in Brooklyn.
I cross 30k.
18.6 miles. 2:43:11. 8:46/mile pace.
We're on schedule, just keep truckin.
Final Preparations
The day before the race I met Laura in Manhattan with my post-race bag, which needed to be dropped off at the Naumburg Bandshell in Central Park, and my apartment bag, which needed to be dropped off at, well, the apartment. I picked up Laura near Union Station and headed uptown. We dropped off my post-race bag, which consisted of warm clothes, water, some snacks, and most importantly, a couple beers. We then moseyed to Sara's apartment, where I dropped off a change of clothes and entrusted my phone and wallet to Laura.
This was the biggest challenge of logistics day. All other issues paled in comparison to my phone & wallet. I'll want my phone after the race and I know I'll want to belly up to a bar so my wallet would be nice. I wasn't going to carry them during the race, so the only option I had was to leave them with Laura the day before and retrieve them at the finish line.
In preparation for this, I printed off directions from Sara's apartment to Michael's like we're back in the heady MapQuest days of 2005. Getting around Manhattan north of Houston is pretty straightforward, however once you get into Brooklyn you can get lost in a labyrinth of tangled streets, alleyways, and unmarked avenues. Fingers crossed.
The directions worked out, I found my way back making only a single wrong turn due to a street having a different name on one side than the other. The most disorienting thing about the whole ordeal (besides not having GPS, of course) was not having my phone to play a podcast or music on the drive. I had to scan the airwaves for auditory enjoyment just like old times.
Back at the apartment I prepared my pre-game meal of roasted sweet potatoes and a bit of pasta while watching The Harder They Fall on Netflix. I turned in early for the night, setting the alarm on my watch since, y'know my phone was across town.
Mile 23
Our jaunt into the Bronx is short lived - only about a mile before U-turning back into Manhattan for the final straightaway down 5th Avenue and the finish line in Central Park. Mile 21 came in just under 10 minutes. Mile 22 was a touch quicker. I'm going about 9:45 pace, plenty of leeway to get in under 4.
I cross the marker for mile 23 and know this is my final big test. Looking at the course elevation before the race, I know that almost the entirety of mile 23 is uphill. I have heard tales of people hitting the wall in marathons, wanting to keep going but their body not cooperating. If there were a time for that it'd be right about now. Nothing I can do now other than trust my training and push on.
The hill is as monotonous as it is punishing. A mild uphill grade that torments you ever so slightly with every step of the 80' climb. You'd probably never even notice it was a hill if you were in a cab headed downtown. There's something about running a marathon that gives you a perspective to a city you'd never get otherwise. Case in point - the week after the race I was walking through Park Slope with Mikey and got a strange feeling. It was a sort of nostalgic PTSD. I looked around and asked him if we were on the marathon route. We were indeed and I turned around to see the modernized Byzantine-Romanesque architecture of the Williamsburg Savings Bank Tower. As we waited for the light to change I put myself back in that place, back in the roar of the crowd, back in the pitter patter of feet on the pavement, back in the rush of endorphins that gave me that 4th Avenue feeling. If only I could bottle just a touch of the juice that the city has on Marathon Day.
After 10 minutes that seem like a day I reach the top of the hill and roll over into mile 24. We duck into Central Park and the end is near. 2(.2) miles. So close. Just before I hit mile 25 I see Laura with some friends and a sign cheering me on. A sight for sore eyes. She says she'll meet me at the finish and I get back to it.
Mile 25. 3:44:18. 9:01/mile pace.
16 minutes to finish the final mile(.2).
Race Day
I wake up the day of the race before my alarm and my watch reads 6:30. I'm pretty sure it's actually 5:30, because in an added twist to the logistical headache of this weekend, the clocks rolled back last night. My watch is GPS enabled, but isn't connected to Mikey's wifi so I doubt that it rolled back.
I check just to be sure and my mechanical watch reads 7:30. I guess it actually is 6:30. Not 5:30. I cancel my 7:30 alarm that I set to wake me up at 6:30. Which it is. Can we just get rid of daylight savings already.
Whatever the time I slept like a log. It was one of the best nights of sleep I've had in a while. Not having your phone within the same zip code can do wonders for your slumber it seems.
I whip up some brekky, pack my pre-race bag, and gear up, sticking to my checklists, lest I forget to lubricate my gearbox or tape up my nips. I've heard enough marathon horror stories to make sure I'm fully prepared.
It's a quick walk to the 3 train where I hop off at the Wall St station and wind my way down to the Staten Island ferry. I get there just in time for the 8:15 boat and snag a seat outside to take in the perfect weather and outstanding views. Mid-50s and sunny is ideal weather for running I've gathered in the few months that I've been training. Couldn't ask for anything better.
I take in the panorama of New York harbor before we're dropped off at the Staten Island terminal. There we head to a line of buses waiting to drive us the 3 miles to the start. I have to give kudos to the marathon organizers, they were on top of their game. It was exceptionally well organized and efficient for such a large undertaking.
The shuttle drops us off at Fort Wadsworth, where an entire marathon village has sprung up. It's a little before 10 AM and my wave goes off at 11:20 so I have some time to kill. I grab a water and a Gatorade and find a nice spot to sit, relax, and stretch. I see two waves of runners take off over the Verrazano and before I know it my wave is on deck. We shuffle through the gates and up to the edge of the bridge. The crowd is buzzing with a palpable nervous electricity. We're ready to get this show on the road.
Homestretch
25 miles in and I make a right on Central Park South, just outside the world renowned Plaza Hotel, New York's most exciting hotel experience. My legs are burning but we're so close now I can taste it. I pour some more coal on the fire. We're goin fast. One more right turn on Central Park West and the last 0.2.
That damn 0.2.
I gut out the final 1000 feet and proudly stride across the finish line. I give the Dick Nixon double peace sign and stop running for the first time in 4 hours. Well 3 hours 57 minutes & 26 seconds.
26.2. 3:57:26. 9:04/minute pace. We did it.
Just across the finish line I find cheerful volunteers handing out fleece lined ponchos and goodie bags of gatorade, water, and snacks. My legs feel like boards and the best description of my movement right now is a painful shuffle. I painfully shuffle through the crowd and find myself at another group of volunteers handing out medals. They drape a medal around my neck and I pose for a picture.
When I first started on this journey I was of the opinion that running a marathon was stupid. I'm pretty much still of that same opinion but I have to say getting that medal placed around my neck was marvelous. All the training runs, all the miles, all of it was hanging right there.
I've had plenty of people ask me if I'll run another marathon. Before the race the answer was always the same:
"Hell no."
But after this experience I may have softened my stance on the matter. After this experience I can't help but crack a wry smile. After this experience the answer tends to come out a bit different:
"We'll see."