Marathon morning, at a traffic light on the West Side Highway, the cabbie and I are chatting when suddenly, "BAM!" a Mercedes SUV slams into the back of us. Next thing I know, the cabbie and a guy in a halloween costume are standing in the middle of the highway arguing. The cabbie comes back and tells me this dude is clearly drunk; he's calling the cops. By now, I know I'm not seriously hurt. With the day I have ahead of me, I'll probably feel like I was in a car accident by Monday anyway and I really want to get going. Just as I'm starting to worry I won't meet my friends in time and I'll miss my ferry, the drunk weaves around us and takes off.We continue our way downtown and finally reach the ferry terminal. Inside, large groups of post-halloween revelers are scattered among large groups of marathoners. I feel like I'm in a Stanley Kubrick film. Like somehow, to someone, this all makes sense but damned if I understand it. Luckily, my friends are right there and the three of us make our way across the river.
My friend, Kristin Thor Budden, a triathlete I met at the Mighty Montauk in June, and I were put in the same start corral and had decided we'd attempt to run together. Our half-marathon PRs are within 30 seconds of one another and we both have a 3:20-3:25 goal for the marathon, which is her first as well as mine.
We both were worried we'd start off too fast, so we were careful at the beginning. I called out our average per-mile pace at each mile marker and she looked at our overall time and the ground we'd covered so far and told me how close to our goal pace we were. It was awesome teamwork. It was also nice to have someone there to chat with now and then to take my mind off the running. I made a conscious effort to take in the crowds as much as I could, too.
Brooklyn was amazing. Not surprisingly, there was a clear fondness for the runners from Italia. I particularly appreciated the Polish part of town. Passing by the Polish markets, I thought of my Babcia (grandma) and Dziadek (grandpa). They would be so proud of me right now. We reach the half-marathon marker in 1:40 and we're really excited by how well we're pacing ourselves!
Of Queens, I remember the 59th street bridge. How quiet and dark it was. Everyone says it's one of the hardest parts of the race for this reason, but I enjoyed the silence. Maybe because all of my training had been done alone and without headphones, it didn't bother me at all.
The bridge spills the runners out onto First Ave. in Manhattan, where the crowd is thick and the cheering intense. I must have been getting tired by now because as we passed the cross street that would lead me back to my apartment, I considered, for a second, how easy it would be to turn and head home. I didn't.
All the way up into the Bronx we go before crossing another bridge to come back down into Manhattan for the last 10k. I never realized before that Fifth ave., heading south, is practically all uphill! I was having a pretty hard time by this point. Random muscles in my legs were threatening to just seize up and drop me. I found myself consciously sending brain signals to them, telling them to knock it off and keep working like I taught them to. Kristin looked so good. She was really keeping me going at this point. Then, she said exactly what I needed to hear: "this sucks!" If she's hurting and still doing this, at the pace we've been keeping this far, I can too. "What will hurt more," I ask myself, "working this hard for another few miles or slowing down and accepting defeat?" This is not an option.
We finally get to Central Park. My park. If I added up all the hours I've spent here, the distance I've trained on these roads, it would be months of time and hundreds of miles. We surge through to the 800 meter mark, then 400 meters. I see the finish and let out a gigantic scream as I cross it.
We finished in 3:23:41. I'm really happy with this time, but more than that, happy that we were able to run a smart, strong first marathon. We held our pace throughout the entire 26.2 miles. Found it in us to dig deeper and push ourselves harder when it started to hurt and our bodies wanted to quit. We worked together and, while we were at it, had a little fun, too!
