New York City Marathon (Page 2)
Saturday, November 6, 1999Race report for Glenn's fifth marathon...
Date: Sat Nov 13, 1999
Subject: On the wings of penguins (NYCM 99)
Saturday, Nov. 6 @ 4:00 p.m.
Padrone RestaurantThe bus stops on 68th Street. Padrone is on 73rd. As I walk north, I see pink hats in the distance. I recognize Harriet, but not the others. As they get closer, I notice the man wearing a pink hat with pink lettering: RUNABE. It's the infamous (Run)Abe Slominsky, himself! He gives me a bear hug and, while I stop to catch my breath, Harriet explains that they're killing time before the 4 p.m. dinner.
1999 New York City Marathon Penguin Group Photo at Padrone Restaurant. (Glenn: Notice I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on at the International Fun Run — I'm standing on chair with arms outstretched. My New York host was working that day and I didn't have a key!)
Fun dinner with the Penguins and the New York City Deads. At my table, I met Hotflash!/Penguin Mary Sharrow for the first time since Boston '98 Flight School, Hotflash! Anne and her husband George, and Dead Matt. We pass around Becky Buckeye who now has a separate box, assorted drinking glasses, a diary, etc. Across from us is Elizabeth & Tony Lower-Basch, with Liz's parents. Excellent tiramisu. Great olives. Followed by the obligatory photo session with the fake double magnum of champagne. Rounds of good luck all around. If there's nervousness and tension in the room, it's not evident. To me, the mood is half-"been there before" and half-"let's get it over with". We're ready for tomorrow.
When I get back to Long Island City, I prepare my running gear and go to bed at 10:00 p.m. I'm restless on the sofa. I only manage two hours sleep in 30 minutes chunks before I wake up at 5 a.m.
* * * * *
Sunday, November 7, 1999
Marathon Day (Sunday, Nov. 7) @ 5:30 a.m.
New York Central Public LibraryI leave Plat's apartment in Long Island City, just across the river from Manhattan. It's still dark outside, but you can distinguish the outlines of the clouds in the Sunday sky. It's going to be sunny, I told myself. I catch the N train into Lexington Station and transfer to the green line. A couple of stops and I arrive at Grand Central Station, a mere two blocks away from the Central Public Library and the marathon start shuttle buses.
I'm here.
There was a lot to worry about: registration, accommodation, getting around the city... But the biggest concern I had was getting to the library on time. When I boarded the bus, I knew I was going to complete the marathon (it was just a matter of how well I would do it). The hard part was over. I sat next to a woman from Boston and a man from Denver. I told them, "You know, finding a way to get here this morning was the biggest problem for me. Training was easy. Getting to New York was easy. Even finding a place was easy compared to this. I can't believe I'm here!"
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 6:30 a.m.
Staten IslandThe bus crosses the Verrazano-Narrows bridge. We can see the starting area on our right.
As we enter the runners-only area, race volunteers are welcoming us: "Good luck," one says. "Have a good race," wishes another. A woman (obviously a resident) says in a characteristic accent: "Welcome to Staddin EYE-land, the best of the five boroughs!" You've got to hand it to the race organizers: Every little detail has been taken care of.
I look around. I'm the only Penguin here so far. It's not busy. In fact, there were plenty of port-o-potties empty and unused. A quick scan of the area: Where are the UPS baggage trucks, where are the food tents, where are the tents? Where's the "World's Largest Urinal"? I stake a claim to an new port-o-potty and took my time. No pressure. I hung around the Information tent and about a half-hour later, a group of penguins arrived en masse: Ken & Ellen Weissman, Kecia, Elizabeth L-B, Debbie Sullivan.
We find a space in a tent and lay down the tarp that Ron Horton gave us. We spend time talking and thinking about the race ahead. Reading the Times. Reading Runner's World. Chomping on a bagel. Drinking water. Three hours of waiting. In cold weather. Wearing really ugly t-shirts and sweaters that we planned to discard. In fact, a cold wind continually threatens to blow our tent down; we keep our sweats bags on the corners of the tarp. Thank God for the tarp. Without it, the Staten Island soil is a virtual heat sink. Every 30 minutes, one of us checks the marathon information booth for more Penguins.
And they arrive: Pam and Terry, RunAbe, Dan Wellner, Mary Sharrow... The wait is unbearable. Kecia says, "I don't know how I could wait here by myself." We all agree. Soon, every square inch of the tent is occupied. Some are catching 40 winks in sleeping bags. Others are showing off their race attire. But most are anxious: How much longer do we have to wait?
We hear scattered applause and turn around to see race officials carrying away the multicoloured balloon arches that were kept in our tent. It's getting close.
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 9:30 a.m.
Decision Time: I'm still wearing my sweatpants, my gloves, my jacket and my black turtleneck. The sun was out. It was mostly sunny, but a cold wind still blew hard. If there was no wind--even if there was less wind--I'd opt for my shorts. But the wind chill IS a factor. And my knees are sensitive to cold. I decide to wear the "full package", tying my jacket around my waist. Most of the others are wearing shorts. A few non-Penguins are going with singlets. Crazy.
Before we leave the tent for good, we review our race strategies. Most of us are aiming for a time between 5:00 and 5:30. Elizabeth L-B, we're all aware, is aiming for sub-4:00 and perhaps a Boston qualifier. Some of us are using the traditional run/walk. Others are taking breaks at the aid stations, which are plentiful and about a mile apart. I'm looking for 5:30, the time I did three weeks ago in Toronto as a "training run". My goal: Have fun. Take pictures.
At 9:40 a.m., we roll up the tarp and head for the UPS trucks. Everyone is standing now. They're making their last runs to the port-o-potties or finding their spots in line. We're scheduled to get into our corrals by 10:15 a.m. It's a human zoo. Luckily, there are enough of us that we make our way through the crowd unbroken. On our way to the baggage trucks, we find more Penguins: Jorge, Margaux from New Jersey and some lurking penguins whose names we didn't recognize from the list. But they wore the pink hat, too.
At 10:30 a.m., we finally settled into the first "X" corral, behind the "F" corrals. We start taking pictures, but there's not enough room to take them. Every time we LEAN, we bump into someone. It would make the perfect mosh pit. I start chatting with the runners around me. I wish them good luck. Right behind me are Kelie & Diane, two first-time NYCM runners. They're both wearing their names on their shirts.
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 10:50 a.m.
The howitzer fired. Helicopters circled overhead. No one moved. In fact, for the next 10 minutes, we walked a couple of steps and stopped. Walk. Stop. Repeat. We filed out of the staging area and onto the bridge. As we walked, we were careful not to step on garbage bags and leftover clothes. There was a small uphill to the perimeter fence and a corresponding downhill to the bridge roadway itself. All my fellow runners used it as an excuse to begin running. So as they left my sight, I kept walking. Why waste energy when I haven't crossed the starting line? I thought. I crossed the chip mats and started to shuffle.
I talked to my fellow runners and called out the names of those who put their name on their t-shirts or singlets. When I reached the peak of the Verrazano-Narrows, I looked on my left and saw the Manhattan skyline, the twin towers of the World Trade Centre. I was in awe. At this moment, I had to make a decision. I told myself before this race that I would have fun and take pictures. Now that I was actually running, I wasn't so sure. Should I just keep on running? Then I told myself: "You may NEVER get another chance to take this photo." I had my answer. I saw a professional photographer on the roadway and I asked him to take my picture with my disposable camera.
I knew how I would approach this marathon: I was going to have fun. I was going to ask people to do things for me. And I was going to help other people. I saw a couple of women taking each other's photo on the bridge and I volunteered to take a picture of both of them. When you look at the course elevation map, the V-N bridge is the highest point of the entire course. But I didn't feel a thing.
Next stop: Brooklyn.
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 10:30 a.m.
BrooklynThe Verrazano-Narrows bridge ends and I get my first taste of New York City Marathon spectators. They're awesome.
On both sides of Fourth Avenue, they've packed the sidewalks. I've set my watch to 10/1 intervals, but I can't hear the alarm. It's too loud! In the first two miles in Brooklyn, I realize that pinning my name to my singlet was the smartest thing I've done so far in New York City. The spectators are calling my name:
"Go Glenn!"
"Good work, Glenn!"
"Looking good, Glenn!"
"Gimme five, Glenn!"I yell back to them:
"YOU'RE THE FANS!"
"Fire Department rules!"
"Brooklyn: The best of the five boroughs!"
"NEW YORK'S THE BEST MARATHON IN THE WORLD!!!"
"I'm looking good? No, >>>>>YOU'RE<<<<<< LOOKING GOOD!"Above and Left: Sandy and Ryan (Ron Horton's sister and nephew) flank me in the picture above. FYI, the building in the background is the Brooklyn City Hall.
I'm slapping the hand of everyone who offers. Not everyone is encouraging, though. Every time I take a walking break, some say, "Shouldn't you be running?" or "Hurry up!" I blame it on ignorance: Does the average spectator understand the run/walk philosophy? Most of the time, I ignore them, but sometimes I yank THEIR chain: I'll say something like, "Hey! Gimme a break! It's my walk break! I've got 20 more miles to go!" After one guy yelled, "Go faster!", I slowed down and did an exaggerated, slow-motion run. Painfully slow. I could see him cringe :-) At the five-mile marker, I notice a twinge in my left knee. I've been running close to the left curb and I think that the camber of the road itself is causing my trouble. I run to the other end of the southbound lane, cross the traffic island, and continue on the northbound lane of Fourth Ave. Now the slant of the road will fall to my right. The twinge slowly disappears and I try to stay in the middle of the road for as long as I can.
I reach 10K in 1:20. Slower than expected, but considering the long wait at the start, I can't be surprised. I'm running in the northbound lane and cross a ChampionChip mat. However, I look at the southbound lane and see a mat there, too. What's going on? Then I realize: I was supposed to cross the mat in the southbound lane, the one for the RED START. First thought: "Have I ruined my race? Will they record my official time?" Then I think of the worst-case scenario: What if they think I cheated? They'll think I didn't complete the marathon. Under the timer, I see a volunteer wearing an NYCM jacket. I ask her if it's okay to cross both sets of mats. She says, "I don't know."
I'm also starting to feel the effects of my cheering. I start laughing at silly things like signs that read "Go Runners". There's definitely no PR in me today. And I'm sure that a sub-5:00 finish is impossible. I'll have to find another reason for finishing today.
I hear a loud cheer behind me and turn around. I see a man with one leg using two modified crutches, being led by an Achilles guide. I admire the man's courage. Then I tell myself: It's not whether I finish or not, but how I deal with the race. It's the struggle that's important. I've got to make something of this day. I recommit myself to helping others on the course and finding joy in every step I take.
I made sure to look around. All around. It's amazing how much you see if you just look up. I saw at least 100 people who were celebrating from their apartments: To each group I yelled skyward, "That must be the best seat in the house!" They cheered for us and it was nice to acknowledge their support.
Music surrounds us. A school band played the "Rocky" theme. The heavy metal band with the ear-shattering speakers. The homemade "jug band" playing on plastic pails. Latino music. Not to mention the recorded music playing from people's homes. I ran to the rhythm, stepping to the beat, and even stopped to dance: Head-banging. The "Cabbage Patch". The samba.
After I high-fived a gauntlet of youth volunteers at the end of Fourth Avenue, I was overwhelmed by a vocal explosion. What was that? I asked myself. I turned around to see a full gospel choir in front of their church, singing an inspirational song. And for the first time since the bridge, I completely stopped and listened.
Because of the cold breeze, I was still wearing my sweatpants. However, I was chafing. Just as I was starting to notice, I heard someone yell, "Vaseline!" I walked up to the man and said, "You can't believe how lucky I am right now." I scooped a glob, said thank you, and began applied it liberally. I warned them, "This ain't pretty." "Yeah," he replied, "don't worry about it. We've seen this before."
I started running again, with noticeably less rubbing, when 200 metres later, a lady yelled, "Vaseline!" I couldn't believe it--TWO Vaseline stations within 200 metres of each other! I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, up to this point, the spectators were offering paper towels, candy, chewing gum, oranges, water... in addition to the regular aid stations!
One offer I had to refuse. As teams played their Sunday softball at a park, I met a woman (inebriated) across from the diamonds. "Hey there Glenn... Why don't you join us?" (At that split second I forgot I was wearing a name tag and wondered, "How do you know my name?") She took my arm and repeated her request: "Why don't you hang out with us?" I was embarrassed: What could I say? A million thoughts rushed through my head, but I settled on the obvious: "I'd like to... But I'm sorry! I have a marathon to run!"
If this race was merely a half-marathon, I'd already be happy. But there was still Manhattan to conquer. And I still have to get through Queens and The Bronx. There's plenty more to come.
[Continued in Part 3...]
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